Bulletproof Heart Finally Breaks

The next afternoon, I decided to go to Lorenzo’s estate to get my things.

If this was really the end, I had to erase every trace of myself from his life.

I let myself in with my key. The villa was as quiet as a tomb.

Lorenzo wasn't here. Probably with Juliana.

I went straight to the bedroom and started packing my clothes and jewelry.

Every piece held a memory. Every memory was now a joke.

Walking past his study, I noticed a hidden door, slightly ajar. I’d never seen it before.

My feet moved on their own. My hand was on the handle before I’d even made the choice. I stepped inside.

And the air left my lungs in a single, painful gasp.

The walls of the secret room were covered in oil paintings of Juliana.

Juliana at eighteen, her smile innocent. Juliana in a wedding dress, looking like a saint. Juliana sprawled on a bed, a languid, seductive look on her face.

Each painting was a masterpiece. Each one screamed of the artist's deep, obsessive love.

I counted. There were over twenty of them.

Some dated back more than a decade, before he and I were even together.

So, for the ten years we were "in love," he'd been secretly painting another woman.

While I thought I was his world, his heart was a shrine to someone else.

I was just her understudy. The thought was a shard of glass in my gut, and before I could even pull it out, I heard Lorenzo’s voice.

"Jules! Are you okay?"

I hurried out of the secret room just in time to see Lorenzo carrying Juliana through the front door.

Her face was pale, one ankle bare and swollen. She was hurt.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Jules twisted her ankle," Lorenzo said, gently setting her down on the sofa like she was made of glass.

He wouldn't look at me.

"Just a sprain?" I eyed Juliana's frail, pathetic act.

"Yes, I just missed a step on the stairs," she said weakly. "Thank God Lorenzo got there in time."

Lorenzo immediately knelt in front of her, examining her ankle. "Does it still hurt? I'll call the doctor right now."

Watching him kneel before another woman was like a knife in my gut.

"Lorenzo," my voice was ice. "Do you have any idea whose daughter she is?"

He looked up, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

"She's the daughter of the homewrecker who destroyed my family," I spat. "And now you've brought her spawn into our bed."

Lorenzo's face darkened.

"Bella! What the hell are you saying?" he shot up. "What do their parents have to do with us? That's a fucked-up thing to say!"

"Fucked up?" I laughed, a bitter sound. "You two are what's fucked up!"

"Enough!" Lorenzo roared. "Stop being so fucking dramatic, Bella."

Dramatic.

That’s what he called it.

Just then, Juliana held up her right hand. A gold ring flashed in the light.

"Bella, are you mad about this?" she asked, all innocence. "Lorenzo said it was just a regular ring."

A regular ring.

My heart seized.

It was the Moretti family signet ring, passed down for generations, engraved with the family's lion crest.

"Lorenzo, remember when I begged you to let me wear this?" I stared at him.

His face went pale. "Bella..."

"What did you tell me then?" I pushed. "You said it was against tradition. That there were rules."

"So what about now? Why does she get to wear it?"

Lorenzo’s jaw tightened. "Nothing is going on," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "I already promised you another party. Stop making a fucking scene."

Nothing is going on.

I looked at them and wanted to scream with laughter.

"Ah!" Juliana suddenly clutched her chest, her face turning white. "My... my heart... it hurts..."

"Jules!" Lorenzo scooped her into his arms. "I'm taking you to the hospital!"

He rushed out with her, throwing over his shoulder, "Bella, we'll talk when I get back."

The door slammed shut, leaving me alone in the vast, empty living room.

I looked around and a brutal truth hit me.

In this entire house, the home we’d supposedly shared for ten years, there wasn’t a single photo of me.

Not in the living room. Not in the bedroom. Not in the study.

But in his secret room, there were walls full of Juliana.

I walked back into the secret room and looked at the paintings again.

Each one was so full of love, so full of devotion.

And me? In ten years, I didn't even get a single picture frame.

I started clearing my things.

The matching mugs we used. In the trash.

The framed photos of us. In my bag to take away.

The necklace he gave me on our first date. I left it on the nightstand.

Six more days.

Six more days until I gave Lorenzo his final gift.

Six more days until I was done with Lorenzo Moretti for good.