Chapter 1: The Princess Who Chose to Leave

To the world, I was Sophia Romano—the reckless, radiant princess of one of New York's most powerful families.

Vincent Moretti was everything I wasn't.

Controlled. Cold. Untouchable.

The heir to an empire built on fear, loyalty, and blood.

But behind locked doors, there was another Vincent.

The one who pulled me close and called me Principessa as though the word belonged only to us.

For three years, that single word had been enough to make me believe I belonged to him too.

Tonight, I knew better.

Vincent stood beside the bed, fastening the buttons of his black shirt with the same calm precision he brought to everything else in his life.

I watched him from beneath the sheets.

"Not staying tonight?" I asked.

"Family meeting."

He reached for his watch.

"At this hour?"

"Business doesn't care what time it is."

"Neither do I."

His eyes finally moved to me.

For half a second, something warm appeared in them.

Then it disappeared.

"Be good, Sophia."

I hated when he said that.

As if I were still the nineteen-year-old troublemaker Don Romano had dumped into his office three years earlier.

As if nothing between us had changed.

"Vincent."

His hand paused at his tie.

"Hmm?"

Tell me you love me.

Tell me Isabella coming back means nothing.

Tell me I've spent three years loving a man who was secretly loving me too.

Any one of those would have been enough.

Instead, I smiled.

"Nothing."

Vincent studied me for a moment.

Then he leaned down and kissed my forehead.

"Get some sleep, Principessa."

My chest tightened.

There it was.

That cursed word.

The word that had kept me beside him long after common sense told me to leave.

The bedroom door clicked shut behind him.

I waited until his footsteps disappeared.

Then I reached for my phone.

My father's number sat near the top of my contacts.

I hadn't willingly called Don Romano in weeks.

Tonight, I did.

He answered on the third ring.

"Sophia?"

"Father, tell the Sterlings I accept."

Silence.

"Accept what?"

"The marriage alliance."

"You're serious?"

"Completely."

His surprise turned to excitement almost instantly.

"I'll call them tonight. Their eldest son is ill, but the Sterling name still opens every door in Boston. This is good for both families."

Good for both families.

Of course.

Never good for Sophia.

"I have one condition."

"Name it."

"We'll discuss it in person tomorrow."

"Fine. But don't change your mind again."

I looked toward the door Vincent had just walked through.

"I won't."

After hanging up, I noticed a phone on the nightstand.

Vincent's second phone.

He must have forgotten it.

The screen lit up before I could look away.

Isabella.

My stomach twisted.

I shouldn't have read the message.

I did anyway.

Vincent, thank you for taking me to the hospital today. The doctor says I'm recovering well. I don't know what I'd do without you.

Another message followed.

Movie tomorrow? Just like old times?

A kiss emoji appeared at the end.

I stared at it until the screen went dark.

Vincent had taken Isabella to the hospital.

Two months earlier, I'd cracked a rib during training.

He had sent his driver.

I remembered sitting in the emergency room alone, defending him to myself.

He's busy.

He trusts the doctors.

He knows you're strong.

I had always been talented at inventing kinder versions of Vincent.

Tonight, I wanted the truth.

I dressed quickly and slipped out through the side entrance.

Vincent's car was already leaving the property.

I followed from far enough behind that his security detail wouldn't notice me.

He didn't drive toward the Moretti estate.

There was no family meeting.

His car stopped outside a small Italian restaurant on Mott Street.

I parked across the road.

Vincent stepped out.

A woman in a white dress waited beneath the restaurant awning.

Isabella.

Even from across the street, I recognized her.

Vincent walked toward her.

She smiled.

A strand of hair blew across her face.

Vincent reached out and tucked it behind her ear.

Such a small gesture.

It destroyed me more effectively than a gunshot could have.

Vincent had touched me a thousand times.

But tenderness from him was rare enough that I had spent years collecting every scrap of it.

A forehead kiss.

A hand at my back.

Principessa whispered in the dark.

And there he was, giving Isabella tenderness without being asked.

I thought about the first day I met him.

I was nineteen, furious at the world and determined to make everyone around me suffer for it.

My father had sent me to Vincent because, according to him, I needed discipline.

"Sophia needs to understand how this family operates," Don Romano had said.

"She's clever, but she treats everything like a game. You're the only person she might listen to."

I hadn't listened.

On my first afternoon in Vincent's office, I'd deliberately worn a skirt I knew would annoy him and sat across from his desk while he reviewed documents.

"Close your legs, Sophia," he said without looking up.

"Why?"

"Because you're representing the Romano family."

"Maybe I'm improving its reputation."

Vincent finally raised his eyes.

Cold gray met mine from behind gold-rimmed glasses.

"Get out."

I fell in love with irritating him before I fell in love with him.

I hid ridiculous notes in his files.

Ignored instructions.

Changed meeting schedules just to watch his jaw tighten.

Once, I put a laxative in his whiskey.

He discovered it before drinking.

Of course he did.

Vincent had placed the glass in front of me instead.

"Drink."

"I'm not thirsty."

"Interesting."

"Why?"

"You were thirsty enough to pour this for me."

I smiled sweetly.

"Maybe I'm learning hospitality."

His mouth almost twitched.

Almost.

"You're intelligent, Sophia. One day I hope you decide to use it."

I should have hated him.

Instead, I became obsessed with breaking that perfect control.

Eventually, I crossed a line I should never have crossed.

I put something in his drink.

It was reckless, dangerous, and unforgivable.

I had expected anger when he realized what I'd done.

What followed changed the shape of our relationship forever.

The next morning, I woke expecting Vincent to send me back to my father and erase me from his life.

Instead, he sat beside me.

His fingers brushed my cheek.

"Principessa," he murmured.

"This stays between us."

That should have sounded like a warning.

I heard a promise.

For the next three years, we existed in a place without a name.

By day, Vincent was my father's trusted ally and the Moretti heir.

By night, I belonged in his arms.

He never called me his girlfriend.

I never demanded that he did.

I convinced myself labels didn't matter because the way he looked at me when we were alone had to mean something.

Then Isabella came back.

My birthday was the first time I understood how fragile my fantasy really was.

I had booked a table at the restaurant where Vincent and I first had dinner together.

I wore a red dress he once said made it impossible for him to concentrate.

Inside my purse was a small velvet box.

Not a ring.

A pair of antique cuff links that had belonged to my grandfather.

I had planned to give them to Vincent before telling him I loved him.

I waited three hours.

He never came.

The following morning, photographs flooded social media.

Vincent at the airport.

Isabella in his arms.

The Moretti heir welcoming home the woman everyone once expected him to marry.

I got drunk that night.

Then I went into Vincent's study and smashed every photograph of Isabella I could find.

When Vincent returned, he looked at the broken glass.

Then at me.

I waited for anger.

Jealousy.

Anything.

He simply called a maid.

"Clean this up before Sophia cuts herself."

Then he walked past me.

That was the night my heart began to die.

But leaving Vincent wasn't as simple as walking through a door.

He had become my habit.

My weakness.

The one person who made the Romano estate feel less lonely.

So I stayed.

Until tonight.

Across the street, Isabella laughed at something Vincent said.

He opened the restaurant door for her.

They disappeared inside.

I didn't follow.

There was nothing left to see.

By the time I reached the Romano estate, my father and stepmother were still awake.

Don Romano turned off the television as I entered.

"You're here. Good. What's your condition?"

Maria sat beside him.

My father's mistress once.

My stepmother soon, if she got what she wanted.

I remained standing.

"I want you to disown me."

My father's expression froze.

"Excuse me?"

"I'll marry the Sterling heir in Boston. In exchange, you remove me from the Romano family."

Maria's eyes widened.

She tried to hide her satisfaction.

She failed.

"Sophia, stop being ridiculous," my father snapped.

"I'm not being ridiculous."

"Do you understand what you're giving up?"

"Better than you think."

"The Romano name protects you."

"The Romano name killed my mother."

The room went silent.

My father's face drained of color.

"We've discussed this."

"No. You've lied about it."

"The crash was an accident."

"She crashed while driving to confront you because you were sleeping with Maria."

Maria looked away.

"Don't involve her," my father warned.

I laughed.

"That's rich."

"Sophia."

"You've been pushing the Sterling marriage for five months. Once I'm gone, Maria gets everything she wanted. Her daughter gets the Romano name, and you finally get a family that doesn't remind you of what you did to mine."

My father stood.

"Enough."

"Disown me."

"You wouldn't last a month without this family."

"Then let me fail."

"You think Boston will save you?"

"I'm not asking Boston to save me."

My voice trembled despite my best effort.

"I'm asking you to let me go."

For a long moment, Don Romano stared at me.

Then his anger hardened into something colder.

"Fine."

Maria turned toward him.

"Darling—"

"She wants out? She's out."

He looked directly at me.

"Tomorrow, Sophia Romano no longer exists as my daughter."

The words hurt.

I had asked for them.

They still hurt.

"Deal."

I turned toward the staircase.

"One more thing."

My father glared at me.

"Tell the Sterlings their bride isn't the Romano princess anymore."

"What?"

"Tell them they're getting an orphan with no inheritance and no family protection."

I forced myself to smile.

"Then ask whether they still want me."

I climbed the stairs before either of them could see my face break.

The moment my bedroom door closed, I collapsed against it.

The tears came without permission.

I covered my mouth so no one downstairs would hear.

My mother was gone.

My father had chosen another family.

Vincent had chosen Isabella.

And in two weeks, I would leave New York to marry a man I'd never met.

It sounded insane.

Maybe it was.

But for the first time in years, the insanity belonged to me.

I wasn't waiting for Vincent anymore.

I wasn't waiting for my father to love me properly.

I wasn't waiting for anyone to choose me.

My phone lit up.

Vincent.

Where are you?

I stared at the message.

Another arrived.

You left without telling me.

Then another.

Sophia.

I almost replied.

My fingers hovered over the screen.

Then I turned the phone face down.

"Goodbye, Vincent," I whispered.

A noise from downstairs interrupted me.

Furniture scraping across marble.

Voices.

Maria laughing.

I wiped my face and opened the bedroom door.

Workers were carrying suitcases through the entrance hall.

Someone stood beneath the chandelier giving instructions.

A slender woman with dark hair.

My stomach dropped.

Isabella.

She looked up.

Our eyes met across the staircase.

Then she smiled.

"Sophia," she said softly. "I hope you don't mind. Your father invited me to stay for a while."

Behind her, the front doors opened again.

Vincent walked inside.

His gaze found Isabella first.

Then it lifted to me.

For the first time that night, his expression changed.

"Principessa?"

I gripped the staircase railing.

Two weeks.

I only had to survive two more weeks.

Then Sophia Romano would disappear from New York.

And Vincent Moretti would finally learn what it felt like to call for his princess and receive no answer.