Seven Years. Not One Proof I Was Ever Loved

For seven years I had kept a hidden liaison with the daughter of the Falcone bloodline, my sister's sworn friend of the house.

One night, after too many glasses of red, she looked at me and said in that light, joking tone, "Dominic, I'll find you a better woman. So, can you stop clinging to me from now on?"

I stayed calm, my expression unreadable.

In my past life, I hadn't agreed to her proposal. I insisted on being with her instead. But long after, she avoided me, ignored me, and deliberately pushed me away.