I dated a mob boss for six years and we planned 99 weddings — guess how many times I became a bride.

Part 2 – THE PRINCESS RETURNS

The next morning, I packed my things and went to headquarters. I handed in my resignation to the capo in charge.

“You’re one of the best,” he said. “Sharp instincts. Reliable. Don’t throw this away.”

As he spoke, Anthony walked in. He had visible hickeys on his neck. He reeked of that same sweet perfume. I remembered how he used to hate marks. He said they ruined his image. Turns out he didn’t hate marks. It was that I left them.

The capo turned to him. “Perfect timing, boss. Talk to your girlfriend. She’s quitting. Did you fight again?”

“It has nothing to do with him,” I said firmly.

Anthony’s eyes fixed on mine. “Is this because I canceled the wedding again?”

The capo felt the tension and left quietly.

Anthony stepped forward, his voice rougher. “I told you, Helen hurt her foot. That’s all.”

“I’m not angry,” I replied. “I’m just exhausted. I need a break in a new place.”

“If you’re tired, take a vacation,” he said. “But don’t leave the syndicate. Now people will think Helen caused it. How is she supposed to maintain her position?”

He didn’t care about me, just Helen’s image. I didn’t answer. I looked at the hickey again. He noticed and raised his hand to cover it. “It’s just a mosquito bite,” he muttered.

I almost laughed.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “There we go. No more drama. I’ll take you to dinner. Let’s make peace. Okay?”

I said nothing. He mistook my silence for agreement. But I had already decided I wasn’t going to say goodbye.

“Anthony.” Helen burst in without knocking. “Oops,” she laughed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just need help with this deal.”

Anthony immediately turned to her. She approached, whispering, intertwining her arm with his. As they left, she left the door open long enough to throw me a smug smile.

The room fell silent. The bracelet on my wrist slipped. The one Anthony gave me on our first anniversary. “Strong as diamonds,” he had said. I stared at it for a long time. Then I threw it in the trash along with everything I still felt for him.

I left the city before dawn. No note, no message, no dramatic goodbye, just silence. The last thing I did was withdraw the funds from the safe behind the bookshelf. Not Anthony’s money, mine. Every penny I had earned in the last 6 years. I had kept it separate for a reason I hadn’t understood until now. Maybe I had always known I would need an escape.

By 8:00 in the morning, I was gone. No one saw me leave. No guard questioned me. In Monroe, everyone assumes that if you walk like you belong, you do.

The trip to Valparaiso took 5 hours. I didn’t turn on the radio. The silence was enough. Along the road, green hills passed like waves. And with each mile between Anthony and me, I felt my lungs expand. For the first time in years, I could breathe.

When I arrived at the complex, two guards dressed in black greeted me at the door. “Welcome home, Miss Isabella.” It had been years since anyone called me that.

Inside, the mansion was just as I remembered, tall columns, dark mahogany windows, reflecting both sunlight and secrets. My father was at the top of the stairs, flanked by advisers and lieutenants. His face remained indecipherable, but his eyes softened.

The moment he saw me, “It was time,” he said simply.

I climbed the stairs one slow step at a time. At the top, he extended his hand. I took it, and with that I returned to the world I had abandoned.

“Your room has been kept as it was,” he said. “Although I imagine you won’t rest much.”

He was right. I wasn’t here to hide.

That night, the heads of the five families gathered in the east wing for a dinner in my honor. It wasn’t a warm affair. It was a statement. She’s back, and she’s no longer just a mob girlfriend waiting for a broken promise.

I wore black. No makeup, no jewelry, just the faintest trace of the scars that 6 years had left behind. They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t need to. In this world, silence is louder than betrayal.

“Are you ready to reclaim your seat?” asked Don Victor, drinking from a crystal glass.

I nodded. “Yes, but not just my seat. I want control of the Western Docks, and I want total oversight of the Eastern Circuit.”

There was a pause. Sharp eyes turned to my father. He nodded with a single movement. “Granted.”

No more shadows, no more sidelines. I was done being secondary to a man who never saw me.