Lahat ng Kabanata ng No More Leftovers: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

The next day, Luca took me to see the new house.It was the lake villa prepared for the alliance, with pale stone walls, electronic gates, and Moretti security. I walked toward the front passenger seat, and Luca caught my wrist. "Wrong seat, sweetheart. That's Bianca's."Bianca stepped out onto the porch right on cue. Luca opened the door for her with a naturalness. "She's been thinking about buying a quiet place for her foundation archives. She'll come look with us."I sat in the back. "Sure."Luca and Bianca discussed charity auctions and political donors as if I weren't behind them. I watched their profiles and understood that I had never been in the back seat. I had been in the margin.Bianca fell in love with the upstairs master bedroom because it faced the lake sunrise. She stood by the glass with shining eyes. "The light is perfect. My paper files wouldn't warp here."Luca answered without hesitation. "Then it's yours. Come stay whenever you want. I'll have the designer turn it

Someone knocked on my door.Luca stood outside and spoke as if he were asking for a minor favor. "Elena, Bianca's award only happens once. It starts at ten, and the press will be everywhere. She can't handle it alone."I looked at him. "So?""Can we move our wedding to the evening? We'll skip the pickup and family toasts and go straight to the banquet."I almost laughed. How many times did he think a wedding happened in a lifetime?A maid downstairs muttered, "First weddings don't happen at night in Chicago. That sounds like a makeup wedding."My mother snapped, "Nonsense. It's a modern world. Don't bring old wives' tales into this."Luca stepped into my room. His eyes were gentle and certain. "Elena, is that okay? You're the understanding one."I looked at him and remembered a day from childhood. I once won second prize in an art show, but my parents went to Bianca's violin solo. Luca promised he would come, then went to Bianca's concert too. I stood alone on the stage, facing other p

A week after the attack, Savannah mornings smelled like salt, wood, antiseptic, and old leather.Aria's studio sat under a wooden sign: Harbor & Hide Restoration. I worked with a bandage hidden under my sleeve until the tremor in my hands faded. The first time I put my palms on the cutting table, my heart steadied. Leather was not like people. It had grain, temper, and scars. You followed its texture, mended the right place, and stitched slowly. I liked that kind of control.In Chicago, I was the assistant who got headaches over casino reports. Luca said I failed at everything. My parents said I couldn't match Bianca. I almost believed them.Then my first restored antique trunk was bought by a home blogger. She posted photos online, and the comments exploded.[This craftsmanship is gorgeous.][Please tell me she takes custom orders. I will wait.][Something about an old piece being saved just hits hard.]Orders came in like a tide.People were willing to pay for what I made and wait a

Footsteps sounded outside.Rowan walked in with Finn, who carried a half-finished leather pouch and came straight to my side. I crouched and adjusted the thread for him. "Go slower here, or the stitch will tilt."Rowan wiped a dot of wax from my cheek. The gesture was natural, but close enough that Luca couldn't enter between us.Luca stood aside with nothing to say. He watched Rowan and me discuss leather, watched Finn hand me his pouch, and watched me smile.Something in Luca's expression broke. That day, he left in a rush. But he came back the next day, and the day after that. On the fourth day, he didn't come inside. His car sat at the end of the lane from afternoon until dark.Every time he came, he brought a different gift. A cashmere wrap made for me. A pocket watch engraved with my name. Leather tools from Paris.With every gift, he said the same thing. "There's only one. I chose it only for you."I returned everything I could return. The pieces that couldn't be returned went i

One year later, Rowan and I held a small wedding in Savannah.There was no mafia convoy, no media, and no one using my wedding as a stage. Warm string lights hung across the courtyard. Aria made lemon pies, and Finn guarded the ring box.I didn’t invite my parents. I didn't know whether they knew. I didn't want to know.One hour before the wedding, my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.[I heard you're getting married today. I wish you happiness.]I looked at it for a few seconds and did not reply.At the same time in Chicago, Luca sat in the empty penthouse. The phone screen lit his face. The message showed read, but no response came.He stared at the conversation and suddenly smiled with red eyes.Bianca had told him about the wedding. Luca locked himself in his study for the whole night.He wanted to go. He wanted to see Elena in a wedding dress and see whether she smiled at Rowan that way.In the end, he did not go. He didn't dare.He feared that if he stood outside