I stood there, watching their figures disappear from view. Strangely, I didn't feel much of anything. No anger, no heartbreak, not even disappointment. Maybe it was because, deep down, I had always known this was how it would be. The moment someone else called, I would be the one he let go of without a second thought.
After he left, the room slowly came back to life. At first, the voices were low, hesitant, but it didn't take long for them to return to normal.
"Jesus, I've never seen him that angry before."
"Think he's serious about her this time?"
"Obviously. Anyone can see it. People who throw themselves at him just come off cheap."
Another round of laughter followed, louder this time, more careless.
They didn't bother lowering their voices. There was no need. Dante didn't care about me, so why should they? I was the heir's wife, and not a man in that room flinched when they laughed at my name. That told me everything about what the Falcone name was worth when the Falcone heir had already turned his back.
The weight he had placed on me earlier had aggravated my already fractured shoulder. The pain pulsed steadily now, spreading down my arm. I lifted my hand and pressed gently against it, trying to steady myself as I prepared to leave.
Then I heard a voice behind me.
"Adriana."
I turned to see Luca standing there.
His expression was tight, his jaw set as if he were holding something back, something he didn't want to say out loud. "Let me drive you home."
He must have been there the entire time. He had seen everything, heard everything, from beginning to end.
I didn't know what he thought about any of it. I wasn't sure I cared anymore.
Luca had always been there, Dante's closest friend, the consigliere-bred ally who moved between the Valente outfit and the Falcone inner circle like a man who belonged in both rooms. From the moment I fell for Dante, Luca had been at his side, witnessing every step of it, every humiliating moment I had tried and failed to hide. There was no point pretending now.
I said nothing, just followed him out.
The ride home was quiet, almost suffocating in its stillness. The city lights flickered past the window in blurred streaks, but neither of us spoke. Luca kept his eyes on the road, his hands steady on the wheel.
When the car finally stopped, I reached for the door handle, ready to leave without a word.
His voice stopped me.