When I pressed play, Camila’s gentle, almost syrupy tone flowed through the speaker.
“Anastasia, Leonardo is helping me repair some electrical issues here. The place has been empty for a while, so there’s quite a bit to fix. You should go on ahead—don’t wait for us.”
I stared at the screen for a long moment before closing the app. A familiar sting welled up inside my chest, but I forced it down before it could turn into something messier.
As I slid into the backseat of the car, another message appeared.
“Please don’t misunderstand,” her voice added. “Leonardo is only helping me because he feels bad. Being alone in a new city is really difficult.”
The implication was clear. She depended on him. And he answered—without hesitation.
My phone rang again moments later. Leonardo’s name flashed across the screen. I answered, and his frustration was immediate.
“Anastasia, why were you so distant earlier? Camila works under me—it’s my responsibility to make sure she’s safe. Her situation is temporary until housing is finalized. Surely you understand that helping her is reasonable.”
I let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
“Since when do you put this much effort into your employees? At the last company gala, you left early claiming you weren’t feeling well. I didn’t question it. But now you’re rearranging your life for her?”
Soft crying filtered through the background.
Camila’s voice followed, fragile and carefully measured.
“Leonardo… maybe I should go. I don’t want to cause issues between you and Anastasia.”
His response was immediate, sharp with protectiveness.
“No one’s going anywhere. Don’t listen to that.”
The tone hit harder than I expected. He hadn’t spoken to me like that in years.
I inhaled slowly, pressing my emotions back into place.
“You’re right,” I said calmly. “That was my mistake. I shouldn’t have asked. I’ve already left—don’t worry about coming back for me.”
I ended the call before he could say anything else.
And for the first time, I didn’t look back.
Anastasia’s POV
Leonardo’s questioning edge disappeared the moment my response landed—cool, detached, and unmistakably final. Whatever he’d been preparing to say stalled in his throat. I didn’t wait for him to recover.