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I Saw the Mafia Boss Pledge His Heart to Someone Else
NovelShort
Hoàn thành
On my birthday, under the harsh glow of streetlights, my capo declared his loyalty to another—their childhood bond paraded in front of the crew, each gesture a spark that set the room alight. I lin...
Chương (3)
第1章
It was my birthday, and Kael had sworn on his honor as Don that he would return early, that we would mark the night together. Yet he called in the afternoon, voice steady as ever, claiming a sudden engagement with the family’s business had detained him. I trusted him, the unspoken bonds of our crew echoing in my mind, and still I waited, heart lifting at the thought of sharing the evening with him.
I should have known better. His “engagement” wasn’t with the family ledger or the operations—it was with Via, his childhood companion, and together they laughed beneath the city’s neon glow, sparks of intimacy lighting their faces like fireworks against the night sky.
How cruelly ironic it felt.
I pictured him as if watching from a distance: his sharp, controlled expression, usually so unreadable, now softened with laughter, eyes tender as they rested on her. That was a gaze I had never received, a warmth I had never been allowed. Until now, I had assumed his aloofness was just who he was, a permanent shadow cast over any affection I might have claimed.
I laughed, hollow and bitter, before slicing into the cake that waited on the table. The sweetness filled my mouth but offered no comfort, no joy. It was sustenance only, as empty as the promises that had bound us.
I sent a message to him through the encrypted line we had once shared. His reply came instantly, calm, distant, as if nothing had been disturbed:
“What is it?”
I heard the faint echo of clinking glasses, the background buzz of celebration, and my stomach turned as my fingers dug into the table. I paused, counted two beats, and spoke deliberately:
“Where are you?”
“At the office. Why?” His voice remained that same polished mask of serenity. The sounds of laughter were gone, yet the warmth and light he had offered another lingered in my mind, suffocatingly vivid.
I glanced at the lingering image, at the joy that had excluded me, and whispered, cold and final:
“We’re done.”
“You stir trouble again,” he said, his tone like marble.
A thin, sharp smile touched my lips. “Enjoy your memories with her, Don. Perhaps you’ll treasure them more than you ever did ours.”
I ended the connection and rose, tasting the finality on my tongue. I could not remain in the estate of a man who had chosen another, even if he had once been my partner, my confidant. I gathered the untouched dishes, packed them carefully, and collected my belongings.
The ride back to my modest apartment was quiet, the night wind pressing against the windows as if urging me to remember who I was beyond his orbit. My parents had gifted me this place after my graduation, after my rites of passage, yet for months I had neglected it, swayed by his insistence that our lives—our territories—were too far apart to bind together.
The distance, I realized, was never measured in streets or alleys—it was measured in hearts, and ours were separated by oceans unseen, even under the same city lights.
Back in my quiet apartment, I arranged my few possessions, washed under the dim glow of the streetlamp outside, and finally surrendered to sleep alone.
By dawn, my secure line flickered with messages from him—weak tendrils of guilt:
“What’s come over you?”
“Return when your anger fades. Don’t be willful.”
I ignored them, letting them vanish into the emptiness of the room, as I had so many times before.
Via had always had a pull on him, a claim that summoned him whenever storms rattled her windows, whenever fear drove her into the night. I had argued, demanded, even threatened, but he always replied,
“Those with corrupt hearts see betrayal everywhere.”
Every abandonment had been repaired with flowers, gestures, and promises that lured me back into a love that had never truly been mine. But tonight, beneath the indifferent gaze of the city skyline, I understood—I was done.
This time, I would not return.
第2章
As I stepped out of the council room after the day’s business, I saw him waiting near the edge of the compound. Streetlights glinted off his broad shoulders and tall, commanding frame, every movement precise, deliberate, as if the city itself had carved him. Even passing associates couldn’t help but steal glances.
If it had been any other evening, I might have walked straight to him, letting him guide me to a quieter corner of the estate where fewer eyes could watch. But not tonight. Tonight, I wanted to pass as if I had never seen him.
I started toward the exit, but Kael’s long, measured strides brought him alongside me before I could disappear into the shadows of the alley. He made no mention of the last incident. His voice was calm, controlled—the low, steady rumble of a Don who had learned patience.
“It’s Alfred’s celebration tonight,” he said simply. “He’s invited the family and the crew for dinner.”
I paused under the glow of the streetlamp, watching him. “Very well,” I replied.
We walked in silence. The air carried a faint trace of jasmine from a nearby balcony, a subtle fragrance that clung to Kael like a quiet signature.
On impulse, I asked, “Do you like jasmine?”
His amber eyes flickered briefly, betraying a thought he didn’t voice. “It’s… acceptable,” he said.
I clenched my jaw. Then why do I always sense it around you? Why does it linger when you’re with her? I said nothing more.
When we reached the courtyard where Alfred’s gathering was held, I saw Via and the others waiting. Her eyes widened slightly at our approach, the faintest edge of surprise in her gaze.
“Good evening, Kael. Betty,” she greeted, voice smooth but measured. “We’ve been expecting you.”
I inclined my head lightly at Alfred. “Forgive me. I came in a rush and brought nothing.”
Alfred smiled. “I’ve already seen to it. There’s no need for apologies.”
Kael led me to the table. The seats were arranged so we faced each other directly. It was deliberate, a statement I did not need explained.
I released his hand and took my place across from him. Kael’s expression shifted for a moment, a subtle tightening around his eyes, but he said nothing. He sat beside Via instead, leaving a calculated space between us.
The unspoken judgment of the room pressed down on me. I had never truly belonged here. I had tried—careful gifts, gestures of respect, observing every rite, every tradition—but it had never been enough. Never recognized from the heart. I had been blind until now.
I did not speak. I ate in silence, tasting the food but feeling no warmth, no belonging.
Kael, by contrast, moved with the ease of a man born to command. He peeled small prawns for Via, his hands steady, precise. Normally he scorned such effort, letting subordinates handle it, finding the work beneath him. Yet tonight, he complained not once. When he finished, he cleaned his hands deliberately, every motion measured.
A sharp ache struck my chest. I had tried to let him go, yet seeing such tenderness directed at another cut deeper than I expected.
Alfred nudged Kael lightly. “Don’t favor one over another. Surely she deserves some too.”
For the first time that evening, Kael’s gaze landed on me. His brows drew together, his voice calm but edged with quiet authority. “Bring her another plate.”
“No.” My voice was steady, measured. “I don’t eat prawns.”
“Fish, then?”
“I don’t like it.”
“And chicken?”
“Neither.”
He stared, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Not a trace of hesitation. I met his gaze, lifted a linen napkin from the table, wiped my lips, and said softly, “I do not want what you offer.”
“Betty, are you upset?” Via asked, cautious. “Why not eat something? Please, don’t be mad at Kael.”
I lifted my chin, letting silence answer. The city skyline above watched in quiet indifference as the family gathered, as loyalties were tested, and as the space between us grew wider than any street or alley could measure.
第3章
Her hesitant glance made it feel as though the entire room was judging me, though in truth, I bore no fault.
“How could I be upset?” I said softly, my voice steady, edged with cool precision. “Please, enjoy your dinner. I have matters to attend to at my apartment. I shall take my leave.”
With a calm, measured smile, I gathered my satchel and prepared to exit the estate.
Alfred’s voice, sharp with provocation, rang out deliberately from across the table. “Still stewing over the fireworks I set up for Via?”
The mention of it prompted Via to speak quickly, her tone polite but calculated, like a strategist weighing every word. “Betty, I—my mood was poor that night. Kael only meant to lighten it with the display. Kael, perhaps you should offer her an apology.”
Kael’s amber eyes darkened, his brows knitting in irritation. “I merely set off the fireworks. Why should I apologize?”
The words landed like cold steel across the room. Silence pressed down on the table, tense as tightened wires.
Via’s gaze flicked toward me, her smile quiet but possessive, a claim made without words. It was laughable. The one who had caused the sting remained blind to his own fault, believing a gesture alone could soothe the wound, as if life would simply move forward without consequence.
I allowed a precise, cold smile to curve my lips. “Yes, you are correct. The display was impressive. Perhaps you should make such exhibitions a habit in the future.”
With that, I left, not sparing a backward glance.
As soon as the door of my apartment closed behind me, I caught Via’s voice floating faintly from the estate. “Kael, go. Apologize at once. Betty is clearly upset.”
“Do not concern yourself with her,” Kael replied, calm as ever. “She will recover in a few days.”
His words cut like blades to my chest. What had I done to earn such certainty from him?
I walked slowly through the quiet city streets under the early autumn sky. The cool breeze carried the scents of distant kitchens, wet asphalt, and the faint remnants of human warmth. Couples passed by, leaning close, laughing—an intimate display that tightened something inside me. Before Via entered his life, Kael and I had been like them—hands intertwined, hearts tethered by a bond I had thought unbreakable. So why had it unraveled so completely?
The night pressed against me, weighty and unyielding. My breaths came shallow, catching in my throat. Passing a small street vendor, I paused. Habit drew me there. I chose a simple iced treat, a small attempt to cool the fire burning in my chest.
The first bite was strange—salty, bitter, hollow. Then I remembered his voice, echoing in my thoughts: “You know it will chill your stomach, yet you cannot resist it.”
I looked down at the dessert, noticing tears glistening on its surface. No wonder it tasted off. I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my coat and turned toward my apartment.
The small device on the corner of my desk blinked faintly—Kael reaching out, as always, through our line of contact. “Have you returned?”
I ignored it. Another followed, soft but insistent: “The dinner went poorly tonight. Perhaps we should invite them again another evening.”
I remained silent, letting his words fade. Finally, his patience thinned, and I sensed the pull of his presence, a mental reach for me across the city. I set the device aside, letting the connection dissipate.
After washing up, I settled into the quiet of my apartment, hands brushing over the soft folds of blankets. My eyes caught a fleeting image on the line—a glimpse of Via, leaning against him, shy yet claiming him fully.
A single thought pulsed through the feed, clear and cutting: “It seems I remain your first choice, even after all these seasons.”
I let a small, self-mocking smile curl at my lips and sent back a final thought, sharp and unyielding: “Congratulations.”