Page 124 of Sinful Lies

She sighed, her perfectly manicured nails drumming against her cup. “Because I’m leaving, Jade. I’m running away.”

What?

She continued, her voice softer now. “Angelo’s organized everything. A new home, a new name… even a job. Far, far away from all of this.” Her lips curved into a faint, almost wistful smile. “You’re never going to see me again. But before I go, I needed to make amends—and ask you for a favor.”

I tilted my head. “A favor? From me?”

“I know I’m not in a position to ask, but… please, Jade. Take care of him. I know you argue like cats and dogs, but anyone can see how smitten he is with you. The way he looks at you, it’s not just lust. It’s something deeper. And you?—”

“Luciana,” I interrupted, holding up a hand.

But she pressed on. “He doesn’t deserve to suffer any more, Jade. He’s suffered enough for ten lifetimes.”

With that, she stood up, her hand brushing my shoulder in what I assume was meant to be a comforting gesture.

“Goodbye, Jade,” she murmured before walking away, her heels clicking against the tile as she disappeared through the café door.

And in that moment, I knew—really knew—I’d never see her again.

I realized she’d done the impossible: she’d cranked up the guilt I’d been trying to suffocate all morning into a full-blown, suffocating bubble.

Thanks a lot, Luciana. You’ve really outdone yourself.

How the hell am I supposed to kill him now?

Chapter

Thirty

“Men should think twice before making widowhood women’s only path to power.”

?Gloria Steinem

Angelo

“Greg’s back in Aspen. Hiding in his mansion. I checked his phone bill—he’s called the same number twelve times this week.”

I nodded, barely hearing him over the steady tap of my pen against my chin.

Tonight was Christmas Eve.

My parents’ mansion in the Hamptons was prepped for the family dinner—a house I’d forced them to buy, not out of love or tradition, but to carve out my own space to face the demons that had refused to die.

A battleground disguised as a home.

The city didn’t control me anymore. Nothing did.

I was supposed to catch the helicopter in an hour, but the day had been a grind—putting the finishing touches on Scarlett’s Times Square show for tomorrow, ensuring everything was flawless.

Hell, I had even wasted time playing Santa for my family.

“Mio figlio–”

“I know where the bastard is,” I snapped, not bothering to look at him. “I just don’t have time to drag his miserable ass out of hiding today. Let him sit in his gilded cage and have one last Christmas with his family. Let him pretend he’s safe for one more fucking night.”

My father stayed silent, smart enough not to push further.

I should’ve dealt with Greg weeks ago—I knew that.

---