Chapter 6

After the deal at the docks wrapped up clean, Dominic drove us upstate to a lodge in the Catskills he'd been promising me for months — a private weekend, just the two of us, to watch the first snowfall of the season.

Except when we pulled up the gravel drive, Valentina was already on the porch with a glass of wine. Along with Marco, Sofia, and half the crew.

Whatever warmth I'd been holding onto went out like a candle.

Dominic must have felt me stiffen beside him, because he leaned over and said quietly, "Brought a few people along. Figured it'd take the edge off after the job."

I kept my jaw tight. "Whatever you want."

Inside, Valentina had already claimed the seat nearest to Dominic — angled toward him, touching his arm when she laughed, leaning close to murmur things I couldn't hear. By the time the group gathered on the back deck to watch the snow start falling over the valley, they were standing shoulder to shoulder like a portrait.

The first real snowfall blanketed the mountains in silence. Everyone stared. Then Valentina's voice cut through the hush, clear as a bell and aimed like a bullet.

"Dom, remember? The first winter after you took over the East Side. We came up here and had that terrible fight. You swore you'd bring me back when things calmed down." She turned to him, eyes glistening in the porch light. "You always keep your word."

I looked over. Valentina stood pressed against his side in the falling snow, gazing up at him with an expression designed to look effortless. His hand rested on the small of her back — casual, possessive, familiar.

"I don't break promises." His voice was soft. Almost reverent. "Not to you."

It felt like someone had slid a blade between my ribs and twisted.

So this place — the lodge he'd talked about for months, the winter getaway I'd been looking forward to — had never really been meant for me. I was just the placeholder. The understudy standing in until the lead walked back onstage.

Under the falling snow, I turned and walked away. No one called after me. Flakes caught in my hair, soaked through the collar of my coat, melted against my neck. I felt none of it. Just put one foot ahead of the other, mechanical and numb, as though retracing every one of the eighteen hundred days I'd spent believing I was enough.

I don't know how far I walked. The cold didn't register. Nothing did.

Two days after we returned to Manhattan, I went straight to the Moretti estate.

Enzo was waiting behind his desk as though he'd expected me at exactly this hour.

"The final handover's done," I said. "I'm ready."

He regarded me for a moment, then reached into his desk and lifted out a black leather case. When he opened it, a signet ring sat on dark velvet — the Moretti crest, cast in white gold. The mark of a family boss.

"Starting today, you're no longer Dominic Russo's underboss." He slid the case and a set of encrypted phones across the desk. "You're running the West Coast. The Seattle territory, the port pipeline, the Salazar negotiations — all yours." A rare warmth entered his voice. "Congratulations, Serafina. You're the first woman in this family's history to hold a territory. And the youngest boss we've ever appointed."

My fingertips traced the engraved crest on the ring's face, feeling the weight of everything it represented. Five years of patience, sacrifice, silence — compressed into this single cold circle of metal resting in my palm.

I slipped it on. It fit perfectly.

Back at the penthouse, I tucked the ring, the phones, and my new credentials into the suitcase and latched it shut. My whole body felt ten pounds lighter, as if I'd set down luggage I hadn't realized I'd been carrying.

After a shower, I stretched out on the bed with a book, waiting for sleep that wouldn't come.

The bedroom door crashed open. Dominic stood in the frame, still in his overcoat, chest heaving like he'd taken the stairs.

"Why isn't your name on any of next week's assignments?"

I set down my book, voice level. "I've been burning out. Told Enzo I needed a few days."

A lie I'd practiced so many times it rolled off my tongue without friction. I'd made Enzo swear secrecy — and I certainly wasn't about to explain myself to the man standing in front of me. This operation I'd bled for over five years, these streets saturated with memories — I was done with all of it.

His shoulders dropped visibly. "Good. That's — good. I was worried you were—"

He didn't finish. Instead he crossed the room in two strides and sank to one knee beside the bed, gripping my hand hard enough to feel his pulse hammering through his fingers.

"We said we'd run this together. Until the end." His dark eyes burned with something close to desperation. "Sera, don't lie to me."

My chest constricted like a fist had closed around it. The audacity — demanding my honesty when every word out of his mouth for months had been a half-truth wrapped in a smile.

"Okay." The word left me barely above a whisper — my first real lie to him. And my last.

He leaned in to press his lips to mine. I turned my head. The rejection froze him mid-motion.

A beat of silence. Then, carefully: "New Year's Eve. Let me take you somewhere — Buenos Aires, maybe. Or Monaco. Somewhere nobody knows us."

"No."

"Then Prague. Just the two of us. I'll clear the whole week."

I shook my head again. Five years of this — always a different city, always somewhere far enough that nobody from the family would see. Hidden in hotel rooms across continents, never once standing beside him in his own city. But this time, I only wanted to quietly count down the days until I vanished.

"New Year's Eve," I said finally. "Take me to Rockefeller Center. Just for a few photos."

He stared as if I'd spoken a foreign language. "Rockefeller Center? I could take you anywhere in the world. Why stay in New York?"

"Just photos." My voice was very quiet. "You hold the camera."

He didn't need to be in the frame. I wouldn't carry a single image of him into my new life.

His jaw worked. Then he gripped my hand tighter, urgency sharpening his tone. "After the family's New Year's gathering — I'm going to tell Enzo about us. Tell everyone. Publicly. I just need a little more time."

I closed my eyes. "Go take a shower. It's late."

The bathroom door clicked shut. Water began running.

I lay still, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion settling into my bones like concrete.

Five years. He'd always asked me to wait. Just a little longer. Just until things settle. Just until the timing's right.

But this time, I was done waiting.