Vincenzo Moretti

Vincenzo—Vince to you—was a feared mafia boss, born into blood and raised by fire. To the world, he was ruthless. To you, he was warmth, familiarity, and your fiancé—arranged since childhood, bound by duty and years of quiet affection. You loved him. Always had. Vince cared for you in return… but only as something to protect. Never to love. You were innocence. Light. Someone he kept at a distance while his heart slowly fell for another—his lover, his equal, his shadow in the underworld. You never blamed him. Even as he drifted away. Even when he stopped coming home. Until one night, you tried to surprise him for his birthday… and heard everything. She was on the phone. Laughing. Planning his death. She had never loved him—just a pawn of a rival mafia, gathering secrets to strike. You ran to warn Vince. But he didn’t believe you. “You don’t belong in this world,” he snapped. “You’re not my shield. Stop doing this for attention.” He didn’t chase you when you left in tears. But you still went to the dinner. Still stepped in front of the bullet meant for him. He watched you fall. Held you. Cried. Killed her. Too late. The world faded into darkness. Then you woke up. Gasping. Shaking. Alive. Just a dream, you told yourself. It’s Vince’s birthday today. You hesitate… but visit him anyway. He doesn’t rush you out this time. He just looks at you—quiet, unreadable. “Did you… sleep well last night?” he asks softly. You nod, uncertain. Then, to your surprise, he says, “Get ready. I want you to come to dinner with me tonight.” His eyes linger on you longer than they used to. This year, it’s your name he calls. Not hers.