Chapter 4

I didn't sleep.

The red dress my father had laid out on my bed looked like a warning. Versace, blood red, expensive, tight. The dress of a Lombardi wife.

Downstairs, I could hear Sofia in the kitchen at 6 AM, making espresso for my father. I could hear the clink of cups from the staff quarters. Jace was awake too.

He hadn't replied to any of my messages.

ME: Jace please. You know I didn't mean it. It was pretend.

ME: Your mom will lose her job. My dad meant it.

ME: I still have the ring. I'm wearing it.

Delivered. No read.

At 7:30 AM, I had to go to school. Final exams. Italian Literature. I had studied for this exam for months in that tiny stone room with Jace tutoring me. Now I had to sit in the exam hall pretending I didn't know the boy who sat two rows behind me.

Chiara was waiting for me at the school gates of Liceo Classico Alessandro Volta. Her pink umbrella was gone. Her face was strange.

"Elena," she said, grabbing my arm. "We need to talk. Now."

She pulled me behind the chapel, where no teachers went.

"Did you tell Alessandro Lombardi's sister about Jace?" I whispered.

Chiara's eyes went wide. "What? No! Why would I—"

"Because someone heard us yesterday. In the staff quarters. My father said he saw me looking at the staff quarters. Only you knew—"

"It wasn't me!" Chiara hissed. "Elena, I swear on my mother. I deleted that video a year ago. I never told anyone. But... I heard you guys fighting yesterday. I was dropping off the laundry for Sofia. I heard you say 'break up'."

My stomach dropped. "You heard that?"

"I heard him shout 'Get out'! The whole garden heard it, Elena!"

So it wasn't just Chiara. It was anyone near the staff quarters.

"I have to fix it," I said. "I have to tell him it wasn't real."

Chiara grabbed my hands. "Elena, listen to me. My cousin works for the Lombardis in Milan. Alessandro Lombardi is... not a good man. He had a girlfriend last year. He cheated on her and then paid her to stay quiet. My cousin said he has anger issues. If your father forces you—"

"I know," I whispered. "That's why I need Jace."

The exam bell rang.

I walked into the exam hall. Jace was already there. In his old washed uniform that Sofia ironed every night. His eyes were red. He didn't look at me once during the three-hour exam.

When I handed in my paper, I brushed past his desk and dropped a folded note.

He didn't pick it up.

Matteo from the front row picked it up instead. "Ooh, love letter for the houseboy?" he laughed loud enough for the teacher to hear.

Jace stood up so fast his chair screeched. He walked over, took the note from Matteo's hand, ripped it in half without reading it, and threw it in the bin.

Then he looked at me for the first time that day.

Cold. Empty. Like I was a stranger.

My chest caved in.

That was the first part of the breakup that wasn't a breakup.

The second part happened at 8 PM.

The Lombardis arrived in a black Maserati convoy. Two cars. Alessandro, his mother, his father. My mother had returned from Milan and was all smiles. My father had opened the Barolo.

I wore the red dress. The wire ring was still around my neck, hidden under the dress, scratching my skin.

"Elena, this is Alessandro," my father said proudly.

Alessandro Lombardi was handsome, like a model. Twenty-five, perfect teeth, perfect watch, perfect suit. He kissed my hand.

"Bellissima. My sister showed me your Instagram. You are even more beautiful in person."

His hand lingered too long. His eyes went straight to my chest.

Behind him, through the dining room window, I saw a light on in the staff quarters. Jace's light. He was watching.

Dinner was torture. They talked about steel, about Milan, about merging our lake hotels with their factories. They talked about my womb like I wasn't there.

"Alessandro wants three children," his mother said, smiling at me. "And Elena is young, healthy, from a good Como family. Perfect."

I smiled so hard my face hurt. Under the table, I texted Jace.

ME: Please look out your window. Please see me. I hate this.

No reply.

Then Alessandro's phone buzzed. He looked at it, smiled, and showed it to my father.

"My sister Chiara told me something interesting," he said. "Actually, not my sister. Your daughter's best friend. Also named Chiara. Small world, Lake Como."

My blood froze. Chiara.

He turned his phone to me. It was a screenshot of my messages from last night.

JACE: Staff quarters. Back window. Come if you want.

ME: [My reply saying yes]

The old messages. From a year ago. The night we started.

"My sister's friend said you have a boyfriend," Alessandro said lightly, but his eyes were not light. They were angry. "A houseboy? Is this true, Elena?"

The table went silent. My mother gasped. My father stood up.

"What is this?" my father roared.

It was Chiara. It had to be Chiara. She had kept the screenshots even though she deleted the video.

I stood up too, shaking. "Papà, I can explain—"

"EXPLAIN WHAT? THAT YOU ARE SNEAKING INTO THE STAFF QUARTERS LIKE A—"

He didn't finish. Because at that exact moment, the dining room door opened.

Sofia stood there, in her uniform, holding a tray of tiramisu. Behind her, Jace.

He wasn't supposed to be in the main villa during a formal dinner. Ever.

Sofia's face was white. "Scusa, Signore Bianchi, I— Jace was helping me carry—"

Jace stepped forward. He was in clean clothes, his hair combed. He looked straight at my father, then at Alessandro, then at me in the red dress.

"No need to explain, Mr. Bianchi," Jace said, his voice calm. Too calm. "Elena and I broke up yesterday. You can ask anyone. We are done."

I stared at him. What was he doing?

"It's true," Jace continued. "We were... a stupid school thing. She ended it yesterday. She told me she wants to marry a real man from Milan. So you don't need to worry. Your daughter made her choice."

Every word was a knife. He was saying the lines I had given him yesterday for our fake breakup — but he was saying them like they were true.

Alessandro smiled, satisfied. My father sat back down, breathing hard.

"See? Young love. Over," Alessandro said, putting his hand on my waist. His fingers squeezed. "Now, where were we? The wedding in September?"

Jace's eyes flicked to Alessandro's hand on my waist. His jaw clenched so hard I thought it would break. For a second, I thought he was going to hit him, billionaire or not, right there in my father's dining room.

But Sofia grabbed his arm. "Jace, andiamo. Now."

Jace let himself be pulled away. At the door, he turned back one last time and looked at me.

And he mouthed one word: Liar.

Then he was gone.

The staff quarters light turned off that night and didn't turn on again.

That was the third part of the breakup that wasn't a breakup.

At 2 AM, I couldn't stand it. I put on my father's coat again, barefoot again, and ran through the rose garden to his back window.

It was locked. For the first time in two years, it was locked.

I knocked. Softly, then harder.

"Jace? Please. You know I was acting. For them. Please open."

No answer.

I slid down to the cold mud, in my red dress, now dirty, and cried.

From the small window next door, Sofia's voice came, tired and sad. "Elena... go back to bed, cara. He left."

I looked up. "Left? Where?"

"He took the early bus to Milan. He said he has an interview. For that boat app he always talked about. He said he won't be back until he is someone."

The wire ring around my neck felt like ice.

Two years. He had said give him two years. But now he was leaving early. Because of me.

Inside the main villa, my father was already talking to Alessandro's father about a September wedding.

And on my phone, a new message from Chiara:

CHIARA: Elena I'm so sorry. Alessandro's sister threatened to tell your dad about the video if I didn't give her proof you were dating Jace. I had to send the screenshots. She said she would ruin my family too. Please forgive me.

I didn't reply. I just sat in the mud in front of a locked window, wearing a copper wire ring that no one could see, waiting for a boy who had just left Como to become a millionaire.