Chapter 471 - 67 Midnight Phone Call
Lila’s POV
I had barely arrived at Thorne Group’s legal offices and hadn’t even settled behind my desk when Jude materialized like a shadow, startling me half to death.
"Lila," he spoke in a voice so hollow it sent chills down my spine.
"Aaaaahhh!" I spun around to find him looking like he’d been through hell—dark circles shadowing his bloodshot eyes, his usually immaculate appearance completely disheveled. "Madonna mia, Jude! You scared the life out of me!"
"Sorry," he mumbled, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Didn’t mean to."
Concern immediately replaced my fright. "Hey," I said gently, lifting his chin with my finger. "What’s going on with you?"
"Can we get some espresso?" he asked, his voice small and fragile like a child’s.
"Of course." I guided him toward the break room, prepared us both a strong cup from the Italian machine, and waited for him to speak. "Tell me what’s happening."
"Nora is leaving," he blurted out, the words seeming to cause him physical pain.
"What do you mean ’leaving’?" I asked, trying to make sense of his statement.
Jude’s voice trembled. "She says the families are putting too much pressure on us. That she can’t handle being caught between our families anymore. She’s going back to her parents’ estate in Sicily."
A tear escaped down his cheek, and my heart broke watching him try to discreetly wipe it away.
"Wait—what? When did this happen?" I was completely blindsided. Their alliance had been one of the strongest in our circle.
"She doesn’t want anyone in the families to know the real reason," he continued, ignoring my question. "She hasn’t made her final decision yet and doesn’t want the capos calling her father, trying to convince her to honor the arrangement. She’ll return when—if—she decides what she wants."
By now, tears were flowing freely down his face.
"But people will notice she’s gone," I reasoned. "The families talk."
"She’s telling everyone her father is sick and needs care. It’s not entirely a lie—her father is quite ill," he explained, staring down at his untouched espresso.
"And you’re okay with this lie?" I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. "You’re actually agreeing to this ’time apart’ nonsense?"
"What choice do I have, Lila? She’s my wife. I love her. If she’s questioning whether she can live this life, what can I possibly do except give her what she’s asking for?" His helplessness was palpable.
"Is there any timeframe for this separation?" I asked, still struggling to process this absurdity.
"No. She didn’t specify, so I guess it’s... open-ended." His voice cracked on the last word.
"So you’re just supposed to wait here, playing the role of devoted husband and pretending everything’s normal while she’s in Sicily deciding your fate?" The unfairness of it all made my blood boil.
"Exactly. She’s submitting her resignation to Dominic today and catching a private flight tonight. When I get home, she’ll be gone." Jude looked so utterly broken that I had no idea how to comfort him.
"But what triggered this, Jude? This couldn’t have come out of nowhere."
"All she said was that she doesn’t know if she can love someone in a world where every decision is made by the families. That she’s suffocating under the weight of tradition and needs distance to think clearly about whether she wants this life. She promised to let me know once she reaches a decision." He sighed deeply as fresh tears tracked down his face.
"Jude, you should at least tell the guys the truth. You need your brothers right now." I truly believed someone with more experience in family politics might offer better advice than I could.
"Please, Lila. You’re my confessional, remember?" His pleading eyes made it impossible to refuse. "If word gets back to our don that his arrangement is failing..."
"Of course, Jude. I won’t tell anyone. I’ll help you through this—I’ll always be here for you."
I wrapped my arms around him, and he sobbed against my shoulder for a long while. When we finally returned to work, he had composed himself behind his professional mask. I wished I could do more than simply listen, but for now, that seemed to be all he needed.
Throughout the day, I kept checking on Jude discreetly. Thankfully, the men had planned their weekly card game at the penthouse, which might provide some distraction. I decided to call Daniel to brief him on the situation—the public version, of course—and ask him to look out for Jude.
"Inspector Martinez," he answered formally.
"Hey, Big Guy, it’s me. Got a minute?" I asked.
"Oh! Sure, Tiny One." His tone was oddly distant.
"Everything okay?" I questioned, weary of how often I’d been asking that lately.
"Yes, fine. What’s so urgent that you’re calling me during work hours?" Daniel sounded distracted, almost dismissive, and my mind instantly began creating worst-case scenarios.
"Big Guy, Nora has left for Sicily indefinitely to care for her sick father," I explained, maintaining Jude’s cover story as promised.
"That’s terrible! How serious is it? Is she holding up? How’s Jude taking it?"
"Whoa, too many questions at once." I interrupted before I got flustered. "I don’t know the medical details. She’s managing. But Jude’s devastated."
"I can imagine. How can I help?"
"Well, you guys have cards tonight..."
"Cards?" Daniel sounded confused. "Right, poker with the guys. Completely slipped my mind."
"Are you okay? You seem distracted." I tried to keep my tone light despite my growing concern.
"Just case work."
"I’ll be quick then. Could you and the guys avoid bombarding Jude with questions? Try to keep things normal, maybe cheer him up a bit?" When he didn’t respond, I pressed, "Daniel? Can you do that?"
"Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry, I’ve got urgent paperwork here. But don’t worry, we’ll look after Jude."
"Thanks, Big Guy. I won’t keep you longer."
I hung up with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Daniel had never spoken to me so dismissively before—he didn’t even say goodbye or offer his usual endearment. Was he growing tired of me? Would I soon be in the same position as Jude, watching someone I loved walk away from our world? My mind raced with theories, each one worse than the last.
Despite my emotional exhaustion, I dragged myself to the girls’ gathering that evening. Gemma was bubbling with excitement about her engagement to her boyfriend and their upcoming society wedding, and I couldn’t let my personal worries ruin her moment. So I plastered on a smile and showed up, though I left early citing a headache.
Since I had my car, I didn’t bother calling Daniel. At the penthouse, I showered and crawled into bed, where my thoughts turned into a tornado—all negative, all pointing toward an inevitable heartbreak.
Lately, Daniel had been behaving strangely—working excessive hours, taking mysterious calls, and now this emotional distance. The signs seemed clear.
I was deep in my apocalyptic thoughts when I heard Daniel enter the bedroom. He went straight to the bathroom, and I listened to the shower running for a while. When he finally slid into bed beside me, all he did was briefly run his fingers through my hair before settling on his side. No kiss, no embrace—nothing. He simply lay down and fell asleep, while I remained awake, paralyzed by fear.
The end felt inevitable. Perhaps he hadn’t ended things yet only because I’d moved in with him and he thought I had nowhere else to go. But I could find another place. Maybe Gemma’s brother would let me stay at the family compound until I found my own apartment.
As I lay there ruminating in the darkness, Daniel’s phone vibrated on the nightstand. He got up, left the room to answer it, and when he returned, he didn’t come back to bed. Soon after, I heard the penthouse door open and close.
He had left—in the middle of the night—without a word.