The finance people moved quickly after that.
Too quickly.
Always eager to stay on the good side of whoever held power in the Family's front operation, they rushed to process my final pay, efficiency driven not by professionalism but by their desire to please the Don's favorite.
I still had work to finish. A stack of client materials from the hotel accounts that needed to be handed over properly. So I sat down, sorted everything, organized the files carefully, and prepared to send them to Salvatore.
But the moment I tried to log into my account, access denied.
I tried again.
Nothing.
My account had already been deleted. Completely wiped.
There was only one person who had the authority to do that.
Salvatore.
I paused for a second, staring at the screen.
Then I pulled out my phone.
I sent him a message.
No response.
I called.
The call didn't even go through.
Blocked.
Messenger.
Blocked.
Everything. Every possible way of reaching him, gone.
I stood there for a moment, completely still.
Stunned.
But only for a moment.
Then I exhaled slowly.
I smoothed the edge of my skirt until the crease was sharper than anything I could bring myself to say.
Picked up my bag. Packed the last of my things. Cleared every trace of myself from what I could still access in the system.
And walked out.
No hesitation.
No looking back.
Past the associates who wouldn't meet my eyes. Past the corridor where a soldier held the door open for me with the careful neutrality of a man who had already chosen whose name to forget. Past the front entrance of the Bellomo social club, where the awning cast its shadow over the sidewalk like a territory line.
I didn't go home.
I went straight to the airport.
