When he said we would be seeing a lot of each other.
He hadn't been exaggerating.
He had brought her directly into the Family's front operation.
As my superior.
The room fell silent.
Every pair of eyes turned toward me.
For the past few weeks, ever since the previous overseer severed ties and disappeared upstate, I had been the one handling most of the responsibilities. Everyone assumed I would move up in the ranks.
It seemed obvious.
Until now.
Salvatore added Adriana to the internal chat right there in front of everyone. Almost immediately, both of them sent messages.
Their profile pictures appeared side by side.
Matching.
A couple photo.
Smiling.
Perfect.
The implication couldn't have been clearer.
The rest of the morning passed in a haze of whispers and distracted glances. No one was really working. Everyone was watching.
Talking.
Judging.
But I didn't care anymore.
I was leaving.
Before lunch, I drafted my letter severing ties and sent it through the proper channels.
With nothing left tying me here, I stood up and walked to the back room.
I needed something warm. Something simple.
I made myself a cup of honey grapefruit tea, watching the steam rise slowly, the scent soft and calming. Sweet. Light. Nothing like the bitterness I had just left behind.
I had barely taken two sips when the door opened again.
Adriana walked in like she owned the place.
Confident. Unhurried.
She made herself a coffee, then walked over and sat down right beside me, crossing her legs elegantly as if she were settling into a throne that had always been hers.
Her presence filled the room.
Her voice, when she spoke, was smooth and sweet, but underneath it, there was something sharp.
"Elena," she said, her lips curving slightly, "I know you've been Salvatore's little secret for five years."
She tilted her head, studying me.
"But I'm his public donna now."
There was a pause.
"I'm back," she continued softly, "and it's time for the mistress to know when to leave."
Her smile didn't waver.
"As long as you keep your mouth shut like you always have," she added lightly, "I won't make things harder for you."
The threat was gentle.
Polite.
But unmistakable.
As she spoke, Adriana casually unlocked her phone and tapped on a voice message, holding it just close enough for me to hear.
The recording played.
It was the little boy from yesterday.