He Chose Her, So I Chose to Disappear Forever Chapter 04

He Chose Her, So I Chose to Disappear Forever Chapter 04

Luca shot to his feet.

“Tell the driver to turn around. I’m on my way.”

He grabbed his car keys and headed for the door. Only when his hand touched the knob did he seem to remember I was still there.

He turned back, crossed the room, and pulled me into another hug.

“Elena, I have to go. It’s not safe for her to be alone. Don’t worry. I won’t stay in the same room. I’ll have the guards sleep outside her door, and I’ll take the living room.”

Without waiting for my response, he hurried upstairs to pack.

Luca and I had been together for five years.

The name Bianca had always stood between us.

At first, I hadn’t cared. They’d grown up together, and after her father died, the Morettis had practically adopted her. Everyone in the family was used to putting her first.

That changed one night at a private dinner. In front of me, Bianca picked up the whiskey glass Luca had just set down and took a sip from the exact spot where his mouth had been.

Several Moretti family leaders were seated at that long table.

No one said a word.

Their silence wasn’t awkward; it was acceptance. She was a protected woman, acknowledged by the boss, which meant she could be close to the heir. I, on the other hand, had not yet been formally brought into the family.

I set down my own glass. “Don’t you have one of your own?”

Bianca’s eyes went wide with apology.

“Oh my God, Elena, I’m so sorry. Luca and I have always been like this. I didn’t even think.”

She always used his full name, Luca. Her careful politeness framed every provocation as my own misunderstanding.

Luca immediately pushed the glass away and told her coldly never to do that again.

After the dinner, I told him that protecting someone didn’t mean letting them step into my place.

He kissed my forehead and promised he would draw clearer boundaries.

That time, I believed him.

Later, a white shirt I’d given Luca went missing.

He rested his chin on my shoulder, looking uncharacteristically annoyed with himself.

“You gave me that shirt. How could I have lost it?”

I told him it was fine, that we could just buy another one.

A few days later, the shirt appeared on Bianca’s Instagram story. She was wearing it as a nightshirt, the collar hanging open. Pinned to her chest was the silver tie clip Luca always wore.

The shirt could be explained away. The tie pin couldn’t. It was a signal, left on purpose. Everyone in the family recognized it. It was a key—to his car, his guards, his world.