Page 181 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4
Amelia would hold on to that as some kind of confirmation she was doing the right thing by not chasing after him.
Something she, sadly,didwant to do. She knew it was the wrong impulse, but it existed within her nonetheless. So much so that when she passed his bedroom door on her way to handle their guests, she stopped.
Then stepped inside. She looked around, those tears filling her eyes again. She would cry over him again. She wouldn’t promise herself not to. But she would not do it this morning when she had work to do.
Before she turned to leave, she noted that his bag sat on the chair in the corner. He hadn’t taken it with him, but he had taken her car.
Perhaps he wanted her to chase after him.
“He’ll be sorely disappointed,” she announced firmly to the empty room.
And still, she did not leave. She stared at the bag. The bag that clearly had next to nothing in it. What had he brought with him?
It was none of her business, of course. But what did she care about his privacy right now? He’d run away from her love. Why couldn’t she poke through his things?
Okay, she was reaching, but she didn’t care. Her choice. Her consequences. She marched over to the chair, pulled the zipper with more force than necessary. Inside was something wrapped in a soft cloth. Heavy and square. She hesitated, then leaned in to the anger that had led her here.
She jerked it out of the bag, then unwrapped it.
It was a picture frame. Inside, was a Christmas-themed portrait of the Follieros. Aurora couldn’t have been more than four, Diego a tall and handsome teen. She flipped over the picture, surprised to see her father’s handwriting on a little note taped to the back.
May they always be with you.
Bartolo
Because this was his family. His castello. His responsibility.
Not hers.
And even though her heart broke for him and all he was turning away from, she knew she had to do what she’d claimed she was going to.
She made her choice. She’d deal with her consequences.
She was done with the Follieros. She had stayed on as some kind of keeper of Diego for her father, not herself. If she stayed now, it would be for Diego.
Not for Amelia.
So it was her turn to leave. His employ. The castello. She would not wait for him to come around. She would not keep playing house thinking he might.
No, she was going to go live her life.
And Diego Folliero could go to the hell he’d chosen.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“You must wake up, Diego.”
Diego did not open his eyes, even as the voice got more insistent.
He was too used to ignoring his mother’s proclamations. They were never what he wanted to hear, and she always—
His mother.
His eyes flew open, then crashed closed again at the painful, searing light causing untold agony throughout his body. He threw his arm over his eyes, but the pain the movement caused nearly sent him hurtling back into the blackness.
He was freezing, shivering. Everything hurt, ached, throbbed. He was wet and cold and…outside? What had happened? Where was he? Why had he thought he’d heard…
He blinked his eyes open more carefully this time. It was still blinding because there was nothing but blue sky above him and white snow around him. He managed to turn his head a little to the right.
