His Talisman, My Severance

Samuel Costello, the Mafia heir I’d been seeing, sent a black card to my door.

It was his version of a severance package.

The PIN was 9999. He was trying to humiliate me with his money and power, waiting for me to cave like I always did.

But this time, I sent the card back, along with a blood-stained dagger. That dagger was the "talisman" he'd given me for protection. Now, I was using it to sever our last tie.

I cut off all contact.

Three days later, his sister, Fiona Costello, called.

"Samuel has a seat reserved for you at the dinner. Come back and admit you were wrong, or you will face the consequences. As long as you're willing to return, he'll pretend nothing ever happened."

I glanced at the plane ticket on my table and replied coolly.

"Tell him he'll have his own fires to put out."

As for me, I was heading to a museum in Seattle to start my new life as an art restorer.

From this moment on, in life and in death, we were nothing to each other.

————————

1

I found Samuel Costello in his family's private club. A tattoo artist was reworking the ink on his back. I slapped him across the face.

In the room, Samuel was shirtless. Next to the thorny rose he’d once had inked for me, another woman's name was being etched into his skin: Roxanne.

I stood before him, my voice trembling. "Really, Samuel?"

He clicked his tongue in annoyance and rubbed his brow as if he had just heard a ridiculous joke.

"Trinity, we're dating, not swearing a blood oath. Do I need your approval to get a name tattooed on my body?"

After speaking, he shot a glance at Roxanne Rinaldi, who was perched on a nearby chair.

Roxanne spoke softly, her voice a sickeningly sweet tremor of victory, "Trinity, I'm sorry, it's all my fault. Please don't blame Samuel…"

"Enough," Samuel cut her off, but his gaze stabbed into me like an icicle. "I did this willingly. It's not a big deal. Did you have to make a scene? What's next, another one of your disappearing acts?"

Walking out. It was my only move.

This was the eleventh time we had talked about breaking up over Roxanne.

It had been four years since we first met at an art museum. We had argued countless times, and every single time, I was the one to cave.

Samuel had probably grown accustomed to it.

But this time, I was done compromising.

I didn't have the energy to fight him anymore. I just nodded and turned toward the door.

Suddenly, Roxanne rushed over and grabbed my hand. Her fingertips were ice-cold, her voice filled with undisguised gloating.

"Trinity, don't be angry. Samuel really loves you. When he told the tattoo artist to start, he was crying out your name…"

I yanked my hand away.

A violent wave of nausea churned in my stomach.

Samuel strode over, shielding her behind him, and stared at me. "If you can't handle it, get out," he hissed. "Don't stand there being an eyesore."

I saw the way he shielded her, and a bitter laugh escaped me.

"Fine," I said calmly, then closed the door on them.

The elevator descended. I didn't cry.

When I reached the lobby, the uniformed doorman offered a sympathetic glance, then bowed his head and pulled the heavy oak door open for me.

A sharp wind cut through the night. I walked two blocks before I could hail a taxi.

The driver asked me where I was going. I said, "Just drive."

Encrypted messages from Samuel flooded my phone.

"Are you done throwing a fit?"

"Come back."

"Trinity, don't test my limits."

The last one read: "Are you sure you want to do this? You'd better think about the consequences."

I didn't reply.

The neon lights smeared into chaotic streaks, a perfect mirror for the last four years of my life.

My relationship with Samuel began with an art restoration. I spent three months restoring a damaged Baroque oil painting for the Costello family. The first time we met privately, my heart nearly beat out of my chest.

He had once cleared out an entire gallery for me, appeared at my door covered in blood after a late-night gunfight, and even commissioned a private fireworks display for my birthday.

But he was also the one who pushed me away, time and again, for the sake of the alliance with the Rinaldi family.

A notification popped up from a group chat with Samuel's inner circle. Someone had tagged him.

"Heard you and Roxanne got your ink touched up at the club? Did the little artist throw another fit?"

Samuel had added me to this group three years ago, but I’d never said a word. They had probably forgotten I existed.

Samuel replied immediately.

"Don't get me started. It's so damn annoying. Now she's giving me the silent treatment, won't even reply to my messages."

"Ha, she's getting bold! Daring to ignore you? I say take the chance to have a few quiet days. You find her clinginess annoying anyway, don't you?"

"I bet she won't last until morning before she comes crawling back."

Samuel replied: "You're right."

Immediately after, he sent the black card. Our breakup "severance package."

No one knew the full story, but everyone understood the humiliation.

I accepted it, and sent back my own "gift."

The card, and the dagger.