Page 32 of His Little Angel

“Deadly.”

For a moment, something warm flickers under my ribs—reflex, muscle memory. But it dies. He killed it.

“Ask me too.”

His eyes search mine, terrified in a way that makes me want to both laugh and scream.

“…Do you want me?” he whispers.

“Not anymore.”

He groans, like the words physically strike him.

“And do you love me?”

I don’t even look away.

“Definitely not anymore. Thank you for ridding me of my love for you, Mr. Morelli.”

I turn, walk out, and stop by Veronica’s desk.

“Good luck,” I murmur to her. “You can contact me anytime.”

Then I leave—and don’t look back.

Chapter Fourteen

Mila

Ihave a lot of free time.

I never thought I’d say that. But here I am, two days after the… explosion, meltdown—whatever you want to call what happened in Enzo’s office—and I have nothing but time. I have no idea what the hell to do with it.

There were so many things I used to fantasize about doing when I was drowning in work—reading the old paperbacks gathering dust on my shelf, learning how to crochet, going on early-morning runs like people in those aesthetic TikToks.

Now that I could do all of it?

I want none of it.

All I want is to rot in bed. Eat until I’m embarrassingly full. Sleep. Repeat.

Maybe this is my body shutting down. Maybe it’s a depressive episode. Or maybe… maybe it’s just that Enzo came too late.

God, I wanted him sooner.

Wanted him proud, not ashamed.

Wanted him to choose me when it mattered—not when I’d already packed my bags and stepped out of his life.

Don’t I deserve to be someone’s first choice? Not someone’s “maybe” or “almost” or “not yet”?

Everyone deserves to be chosen.

And even if Enzo showed up right now with his heart on a fucking silver platter…

I don’t want it.

Because he didn’t choose me when it counted.