The Night He Left Us in the Snow

Before I could speak, Adrian had already answered for Lucia.

“You don’t have to be so formal with Elena.”

He straightened the slightly crooked collar of her white suit as he spoke. Lucia looked up at him with a faint smile, then turned back to me with the speech draft still in her hand. My revision timestamp was still in the footer, but no one questioned why she was holding my draft.

After the launch, the port defense system climbed to the top of the industry feeds. At the reception, Lucia became the center of the room. She held Adrian’s arm while greeting investors, union representatives, and Moretti advisers. Whenever someone asked a technical question she could not answer, Adrian answered for her and moved the conversation along.

I left after finishing a glass of water near the side entrance.

Back at the company, I started packing my office. Half the certificates on the wall had already been removed, and an empty box sat beside my desk.

Then my phone lit up.

Lucia had sent several photos.

In the first, Adrian poured water for her in the hotel suite. In the second, his coat covered her shoulders. In the third, she leaned against the sofa with red-rimmed eyes while he brushed her hair back from her face.

Elena, I’m sorry. I know you worked hard for this, but Adrian said I needed a beginning too.

I turned the phone facedown.

Ten minutes later, I posted a statement through my professional account and sent it to the industry platform and Moretti Security’s main partner channels.

I, Elena Reed, permanently withdraw from Moretti Security effective immediately. I will no longer serve as project lead for the port defense system, nor will I provide any technical endorsement for Moretti Security’s release, promotion, or delivery of the system. The core architecture and principal development work were completed by me. I accept no responsibility for any technical, delivery, or security risks arising from its future use without my participation.

The statement spread faster than the launch.

Partners began calling to confirm authorization. Several port contracts paused. The stock that had been rising all afternoon dropped sharply before market close.

When Adrian pushed open my office door, my desk was nearly empty.

“Elena, why did you post that statement?”

I placed the last notebook into the box.

“Lucia made it clear at the launch. She represented Moretti Security. With her there, you should have enough.”

“Do you know how much damage that impulsive statement caused the company?”

“That is your company.”

“It is also the project you spent three years building.”

“Not anymore.”

Before Adrian could answer, an employee rushed in.

“Don Moretti, Miss Lucia is on the rooftop terrace. She says she’s sorry to you, to the company, and to Miss Reed.”

Adrian ran for the door while I finished packing.

The rooftop terrace was already crowded. Lucia sat outside the railing, gripping the iron bars behind her while the wind pressed her white skirt against her legs. Adrian stood at the front of the crowd.

“Lucia, come down.”

When Lucia saw me, tears slipped down her face.

“Elena, I’m sorry. I was foolish. I took credit for your work. Now everything has turned out like this, and I don’t know how else to make it right.”

She leaned outward as she spoke. The crowd gasped, and Adrian crossed to me in a few strides.

“You’re the only one who can make her come down now.”

“Delete the statement,” he said. “Post another one. Say you lost control of your emotions. Say you still support Moretti Security.”

“She just admitted she took my credit.”

“She is sitting outside the railing.”

“So?”

Adrian grabbed a box cutter from a maintenance cart beside the terrace door and pressed the blade to the side of his neck.

“Elena, do you really need her to jump before you’ll forgive her?”

Seven years ago, when the Moretti family refused to accept me, Adrian had stood before his father with a knife in his hand and forced the entire family to yield. Back then, he said that if they would not accept me, he would give up the Moretti name.

Now he was using the same method to make me back down for Lucia.

I took out my phone and deleted the statement in front of everyone.

Then I posted a new one.

My earlier statement was posted due to personal emotional distress. I am currently in further communication with Moretti Security regarding subsequent project arrangements.

Lucia was helped down almost the moment the new statement went live. Adrian rushed forward and held her as soon as her feet touched the ground.

“Are you insane?” His voice shook. “Do you know what would have happened to me if you had fallen?”

Lucia cried into his arms while the crowd gathered around them.

While the crowd closed around them, I picked up my box and left Moretti Security.

On the way back to the apartment, I called Marco, a college friend who now handled private investigations and corporate risk.

“Look into Lucia for me,” I said. “Medical records, accounts, recent transactions, and anything unusual around today’s launch.”

Less than an hour later, he sent me a preliminary file.

It confirmed what I had already guessed.

Lucia’s performance on the terrace had not been improvised.

The next day was our engagement ceremony.

The Moretti family had booked the most expensive hotel in Chicago, and every guest was waiting for me to enter. Adrian stood onstage in a perfectly tailored black suit, holding the engagement ring he believed I would wear.

He probably thought I was still angry. He probably thought that if he gave me enough dignity, I would eventually appear.

By then, I was already seated on a private jet waiting for clearance, my father’s old silver cufflinks in my coat pocket.

My phone lit up with Adrian’s message.

Stop this. Everyone is waiting for you.

I deleted it, then blocked his number, his family, and everyone who still believed I belonged to the Morettis.