
You Were My Goodbye
Chapter 4
In the bathroom, I found my clothes in a heap on the floor.
His were neatly hung on the rack by the door. Separate. Orderly.
The sight stung. I sighed, changed quietly, and left the hotel.
Chiara called, her voice strained. "Valentina, they want half a million."
The sky was gray. No sun.
She'd spent most of her savings on my treatment. I had almost nothing left.
"They said if we don't pay, they'll expose everything and never tell you where your mother's ashes and belongings are."
"I'll try to borrow. We should have it by next month."
"Okay."
After hesitating, I dialed a number.
It took a while to connect.
"Valentina? What's up?"
"Dr. Marco, I'm sorry to bother you. I…"
He sounded busy. After some shuffling, he reached a quiet place. "Trouble?"
I took a deep breath. "Can you lend me four hundred thousand?"
It was the first time I'd ever asked anyone for money. My whole body burned.
A commotion on his end: "Dr. Marco, emergency surgery."
"Got it."
I didn't expect much. I was ready for him to hang up.
But at the last moment, Marco said shortly, "Send me your account number. I'll transfer it today."
Then the line went dead.
The sky stayed gray.
But the cold dial tone suddenly felt warm.
That evening, the deputy knocked on my desk. "VIPs tonight. You're coming."
A few hours earlier, I'd asked him for an advance on my first month's salary. With that, the borrowed money, and my savings, I barely scraped together the half million.
When I walked into the private room, I saw Nico.
He was working the room with ease, exchanging pleasantries. The chandelier light traced his sharp profile.
The deputy gave me a small push.
All eyes landed on me.
"Mr. Barzan, is she one of yours?"
Nico glanced at me casually. "Yes. New."
"A new girl you personally bring around? Not bad-looking."
Chatter, then everyone sat. The deputy placed me next to Nico. He whispered, "Be smart tonight. Take the drinks when you need to."
"Mr. Barzan, can your new girl drink or not?"
Before Nico could answer, the deputy jumped in, "She can, she can."
He pushed a glass toward me. "Start with a toast."
Nico said nothing. Just smiled and tapped the table.
I held my breath and downed it. The liquor burned through my throat, my stomach churning.
Cheers erupted. They were about to pour another when Nico changed the subject. "What were we talking about? Let's continue."
Throughout the night, people tried to toast Nico, but he claimed a bad stomach and didn't touch a drop. The deputy funneled every drink to me.
Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. I went to the bathroom.
I turned on the tap and retched. My hair came loose and fell into the sink, getting wet.
After texting Chiara, I slumped over the counter, eyes closed, panting.
Footsteps approached from outside. The door opened.
I assumed it was some woman.
But it was Nico. Calm. "Can't handle it already?"
I pushed myself up, wobbled, tried to walk past him.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
His large hand went to the back of my neck. Hot.
"Let me go."
My throat was raw from stomach acid. Every word hurt.
Nico easily dragged me to the mirror, turned me to face it, and lifted my chin. He smirked.
"Take a good look. You think it's safe to walk out looking like this?"
My reflection stared back—wet eyes, flushed cheeks, tangled hair, collar open.
He stared through the mirror, openly, greedily.
I closed my eyes, trembling. "Who's more dangerous than you?"
He laughed softly and kissed my ear. "Come home with me tonight, okay?"
"Get lost—"
He silenced me with his mouth, crushing the air from my lungs.
Under the influence of alcohol, my blood felt like molten lava.
Lights blurred. Water dripped like acid on my heart.
Agony.
I broke out in a cold sweat, weakly hitting him.
Dragged back to that dark time.
Desperately watching a bright, colorful world where I didn't belong.
"Nico… can you just let me go?"
I was falling. Silent. Hitting the bottom of the well.
It hurt.
But I couldn't feel it anymore.
"Valentina!"
He was shouting my name.
Not with the look that said he wanted me dead.
He looked scared.
For a moment, I couldn't tell if he was the young Nico or the man he'd become.
I said, "Nico, I never want to see you again."
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