After Six Years Together, He Called Me His Bedmate

Chapter 2

The next afternoon, Dante sent me a message.

Dante: Go to the penthouse and pack up your things. Elena can't settle in at the hotel. I'm going to let her stay there for now.

When I arrived, he was having the housekeeper change the sheets.

My pajamas, skin care products, and books had already been packed neatly into cardboard boxes. Even the photo of the two of us on the nightstand had been turned facedown.

"Why are you letting her stay here?" I asked.

Dante did not look up. "She doesn't like how crowded the estate is, and this place is close to the gallery."

"What about me?"

"Stay at the Rizzo estate for a few days," he said as though it were obvious. "Once she settles into life in Northmara, I'll find her another place."

I looked around the home I had shared with him for six years, my throat tight.

"This is our home."

Only then did Dante look at me, confusion in his eyes.

"What do you mean, 'our home'?"

"Sofia, the deed has always been in my name. I let you move in because we're close. Don't make this more complicated than it is."

I stopped arguing and went into the bedroom to pack.

His shirts and my dresses had once hung close together in the closet. As I removed my clothes one by one, the housekeeper filled the empty space with the gowns Elena Costa had just sent over.

Standing in the doorway, Dante reminded me, "Take all your underwear. Don't let her see it and get the wrong idea."

I could not help laughing.

The wrong idea? He and I had slept together for six years. It would have been perfectly reasonable for her to get the wrong idea.

I took only my documents, clothes, and the heirloom jewelry my grandmother had left me.

I left the old computer in the study. It had not been used in ages and contained nothing but travel photos and household bills. I didn't think anyone would be interested in those.

Everything Dante had given me stayed behind.

Before I left, I held the penthouse key in my hand, tempted to place it on the table.

In the end, I slipped it back into my pocket.

That night, the elders of both families held a welcome dinner for Elena at the Moretti estate.

When I arrived, Elena's place card sat at the spot I had occupied for more than a decade.

Mrs. Moretti explained, "It's Elena's first time here. Sitting beside Dante would make it easier for him to look after her. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not."

I sat at the far end of the long table.

Halfway through dinner, Mrs. Moretti brought up an old joke between our families.

"Back then, I used to say that once Sofia grew up, we'd have her marry Dante. The two of them were so close. Who would have thought—"

Dante frowned and cut her off.

"Mother, don't say things like that in front of Elena."

Then he looked at me.

"Sofia and I are only childhood friends. That's it. If I ever get married, it won't be to her."

The entire table fell silent.

Elena lowered her head, but a faint smile played at the corners of her lips.

Everyone waited for me to smooth things over for Dante.

I lifted my glass and swirled the wine gently.

"He's right. No matter who I marry, it won't be Dante."