Not Afraid of the Mafia Heir’s Threat Chapter 04
The camera felt heavy in my hands.
It weighed on my palm like a stone.
On the screen was the photo Lorenzo had just taken of me sleeping.
My brows were drawn tight even in sleep, tear tracks still clinging to the corners of my eyes.
One strap of my nightgown had slipped off my shoulder, exposing too much skin.
Slowly, I hit delete.
Then I went through the rest of the camera.
Nothing.
Nothing.
My fingers moved faster and faster across the screen.
In the end, all I found were photos of Gianna.
She was fully dressed in every one of them, smiling softly at the lens.
I kept scrolling.
There were pictures of her sitting quietly with a book.
Pictures of her walking into class with textbooks in her arms.
A side profile of her in vocal training, head bowed as she took notes.
And more.
So many more.
Countless little moments, all captured one by one.
A whole archive of Gianna.
It looked tender.
It looked cherished.
I started crying while I laughed.
So this was what Lorenzo meant when he said he only felt sorry for her.
Back when he first bought that camera, we’d gone to the coast together once.
Someone had asked him to take our picture.
he declined with a polite, cool smile, saying, “I only photograph Sera.”
The sun had been bright that day.
I’d blushed so hard I could barely look at him.
I used to think I was the one person in Lorenzo’s world who could never be replaced.
Apparently, I had been wrong.
Something inside me snapped completely.
I dragged out every photo frame in the house and started smashing them with the camera, one after another, until my arms gave out and glass shattered across the floor.
I sat there in the middle of it and realized something for the first time.
Chasing someone who never turned around was exhausting.
And I was done.
By the time evening rolled in, my empty stomach was cramping with hunger.
I got up barefoot and made myself a bowl of noodles.
The water in the pot was still and clear, like a mirror, reflecting my completely wrecked reflection.
While I was waiting for it to boil, my phone buzzed.
Vanessa had sent me a screenshot.
It was one of Gianna’s Instagram stories.
[Got harassed while singing at a bar tonight. Good thing he was there.]
Attached was a photo.
In it, a man lounged back on a sofa, relaxed and careless, his head dipped slightly as if he were giving someone instructions.
Vanessa was furious. “What is this, a hard launch?”
“Does Gianna not know Lorenzo is your boyfriend and your fiancé?”
“And Lorenzo just let her post that? Does he have any boundaries at all?”
The water boiled.
I dropped the noodles in before texting back flatly, “He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”
“And I’m not marrying him.”
After I confessed to Lorenzo, he’d arranged for both families to meet.
That was when our engagement had been set.
All that was left was waiting until graduation.
Vanessa went silent for three whole seconds.
Then my phone started vibrating nonstop.
“Oh my God, you finally came to your senses!”
“But what about your family?”
“Is this going to be a huge mess?”
Something warm spread through my chest.
I cleared my throat. “No.”
My parents had always thought I became too small whenever I was around Lorenzo.
It had taken me forever to wear them down before they agreed to the engagement in the first place.
I pulled out a carrot, carved a smiley face into it, and ate the whole bowl of noodles standing at the counter.
Outside, thunder cracked across the sky.
Wind whipped the white curtains into the air.
I shivered.
Then my phone rang.
Lorenzo sounded gentle, apologetic. “Sera, something came up with a friend.”
“I’m not coming back tonight.”
“If you can’t sleep, there are sleeping pills in the cabinet.”
Another streak of lightning flashed, lighting up my face in the dark.
I had struggled with insomnia for years.
Thunderstorms were the worst.
Back on the farm, my grandmother used to stay with me.
Later, after I met Lorenzo, he found out and looked at me like I was ridiculous. “How are you this scared of a storm?”
Then he’d open his arms and say, “Come here.”He’d say, opening his arms wide.
For eleven years, that had never changed.
Not once.
Until tonight.
I didn’t reply, and I didn’t know what I even could have said.
Pretend I knew nothing?
Lose control and demand answers?
Either way, it would have been ugly.
And it didn’t matter anymore.
So I called my parents.
My mother sounded worried the second she picked up. “Call off the engagement? Did you and Lorenzo fight?”