Instead, I opened my phone and checked his location.
A hotel. One of the ones on Family-controlled territory, the kind with discreet staff and no cameras in the hallways.
I didn't need him to explain anything. I didn't need confirmation.
Then, faintly, through the receiver, I heard a woman's voice.
"Come dry my hair, will you?"
The line went dead almost instantly.
He hung up.
I stared at my phone for a moment, unmoving.
Not long after, two transfer notifications popped up.
$1,314.
$1,520.
The numbers hit me harder than anything else.
They weren't random.
They meant something. They always had.
1314 meant forever.
1520 meant I love you.
For years, I had wished for this. For him to send me those numbers, for something so simple and symbolic. I had imagined taking a screenshot, posting it, just once, like everyone else. Just once, to show that I had something real.
But every time I brought it up, he refused.
He didn't like attention.
He didn't want people asking questions.
He didn't want anyone knowing. A Don's private life was a liability, he said. Something rivals could use.
And now… now that I had already decided to let him go, he sent them?