Page 8 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Seven

Isabella

M ia looks at me, almost apologetic now, like she realizes too late the weight of her question.

My hand rises on autopilot and touches the butterfly pendant Luca gave me only minutes before he was torn from me.

“That’s not exactly a mood booster,” Mari says flatly. “There have been no chocolates for the last two years. Why would that suddenly change?”

Mia presses her lips together, like she wants to argue but thinks better of it.

Yeah. That subject still stings.

My hand drifts across the spot where I first found the round box of handmade hazelnut pralines on my eighteenth birthday. They were shaped like butterflies, from my favorite chocolatier.

There was no note. There didn’t need to be. I knew they were from him.

Any lingering doubt vanished when I saw the centerpiece, a larger butterfly with two intertwined chocolate rings resting on its wings.

It had been the signal I’d waited for all year. A promise whispered without words .

That day was supposed to be our wedding day. The day I should have walked toward Luca, not spent it being paraded around like some prized showpiece at my father’s carefully curated Mafia society debut.

I smiled. I played the part he expected, while inside I was dying.

The moment the evening ended, I collapsed behind my bedroom door, crying so hard I could barely breathe.

Then I noticed the box. That one small sign that I wasn’t forgotten. That he loved me. That he was still coming for me.

The next year came with more chocolates. That time, a butterfly cradling a tiny chocolate laptop. He’d seen me dive into crypto trading. It was my attempt at carving out some financial freedom. A way to get out of here and find him.

He’d been watching, like he always had.

And then… nothing.

No more gifts. No more signs. Only silence.

And heartbreak.

Every birthday, all over again.

And today will be no different.

“Luca has to be dead,” Mia suddenly says. “It’s the only reason that makes sense. He’d never abandon you, Isa. He was so in love with you… obsessed, even.”

“Mia!” Mari glares at her, eyes wide. “Really? Why would you say that today of all days?”

The lump in my throat is immediate, my stomach filling with lead.

“Because I hate seeing Isa like this. If there aren’t any chocolates today, maybe it’s time to let him go and finally move on,” Mia shoots back at Mari, as if I weren’t sitting right next to her.

I stare at my sister, my chest crushing in on itself. Her words strike true, sharp as any arrow.

I know she means well. And it’s not like the same thoughts haven’t already run through my mind late at night, when the silence was too loud and the memories too vivid.

Still, hearing them spoken aloud seems like a betrayal, even from someone who loves me .

“And how do you propose I move on?” I manage, my throat closing as if someone has their hand wrapped around it.

“It’s not like I can go out and meet other people.” Not that I want to. Ever.

The idea alone is like asking my heart to beat for someone else when it has only ever known one rhythm.

I may hate Father’s golden cage, but at least it spares me from pretending I could ever love another man. It gives me an excuse to keep living in my memories.

“We all know what will happen next. After Mari gets married to Conti, I will be next,” I say, disillusioned. “I suppose that will be my moving-on point.”

“You could stop wearing his necklace,” Mia suggests softly, her gaze dropping to the butterfly pendant around my neck. “Father made you take off your engagement ring years ago, and I think it helped. You weren’t quite as sad anymore once you took it off.”

She doesn’t know. None of them do. I still keep that ring in the drawer beside my bed. Every night, before I sleep, I open the box and trace the band with my fingertip, remembering the boy who slipped it on my hand with so much certainty.

Is he really gone for good?

He promised to come back for me. But he hasn’t.

I’ve learned to live without him, to carry on without breaking apart every time his absence presses in. The ache has dulled, and the tears don’t come as easily. That must be progress.

My eyes flick toward the corner of my room, where Luca hid a camera after our first kiss on my fifteenth birthday, so he could watch over me when we couldn’t be together.

I still remember the night he installed it. We weren’t supposed to be alone together, especially not in my bedroom, but Luca always treated rules like challenges to be outsmarted.

I stood watch by the door, every sound in the house making my pulse spike, while he balanced on the edge of my dresser to reach the curtain rail near the ceiling .

“It’ll be safest up here,” he’d said, as he fitted the tiny device behind a custom cover that looked like part of the ventilation. “No one ever looks this high up, and the cleaning staff won’t go near the curtain rods.”

The camera was nearly invisible. No blinking lights. No exposed wires. Just a pinhole lens tucked into the shadow, streaming continuously to a secure server Luca controlled. He could watch whenever he wanted, day or night.

“Hurry,” I whispered, glancing down the hallway. “If Father finds out, we’ll both be in so much trouble.”

“I’m almost done,” he said, calm as ever, never looking away from what he was doing.

“You really think this is worth the risk?”

He stepped down from the dresser and turned to me, his eyes soft but steady. “Yeah. I do.”

He moved closer, his voice dropping. “I need to see you, Isa. When we can’t talk or meet or touch, it helps me know you’re okay. Watching you read, or sleep, or just exist… it makes me feel like I’m not so far away.”

I didn’t know what to say. The truth of it hit something deep inside me.

I reached for his hand. He pulled me gently toward him.

We kissed like we were trying to make the moment last forever. His hand slid into my hair. Mine clung to the back of his neck. It felt like the first breath after being underwater too long.

A sound in the hallway made us jump apart.

Footsteps. Muffled. Fading.

He pressed his forehead to mine, his breath warm against my skin. “I have to go.”

I nodded, too breathless to speak.

He slipped back through the secret passageway he’d found on old architectural drawings of Father’s mansion, vanishing into the dark as if he’d never been there.

That night, when I curled up in bed, I looked toward the corner near the ceiling and smiled.

I got in the habit of whispering goodnight to it. To him. I pretended he was there, watching me. As if love could stretch across signals and shadows, and make this room feel less like a cage.

The thought that Luca could see me held me together for a very long time.

But now, that comfort seems distant.

I tear my gaze away from the camera. The girls don’t know about it, or how much we needed each other.

I blink. Mari and Mia are watching me closely.

I force a smile and nudge them both.

“Come on. Let’s get up and get this day over with.”