Chapter 231

Chapter 231
Hannah

I tossed my bag on the couch and went to my room, opening my laptop to check my portfolio. It had grown substantially since I'd invested most of Leonardo's money. I'd been cautious, spreading the money across various stocks recommended by investment sites, keeping a significant portion aside for emergencies. So far, the strategy was working.
I hadn't told Mom about any of it. As far as she knew, my scholarship covered tuition, and I was getting by on my part-time job and student loans. The truth was more complicated, and I wasn't ready to explain how I'd suddenly become financially stable.
Sighing, I closed the laptop and flopped back on my bed. Leonardo's engagement shouldn't bother me. Our relationship, no, our arrangement, had been transactional from the beginning. He'd been clear about that, and I'd accepted it. I'd even enjoyed aspects of it, the excitement, the luxury, the intense intimacy.
But somewhere along the way, I'd started to care. Not love; I wasn't naive enough to confuse our dynamic with love, but something more than just business. And foolishly, I'd thought maybe he had too.
My phone buzzed with a text from Sarah, asking about a meeting before class tomorrow. I replied quickly, grateful for the normal interaction. This was my real life now: classes, friends, design projects, and taking care of Mom. Leonardo Salvatore belonged to another world, one I had only briefly visited.
Later that evening, after dinner with Mom, I found myself scrolling through old photos on my phone. There weren't many of Leonardo and me together because he'd been careful about that, but I had a few from Italy. In one, we were at the Navigli district, Leonardo looking uncharacteristically relaxed as he stood behind me, the canal water reflecting the evening lights.
I remembered how he'd whispered in my ear just after that photo was taken, how his hand had slid possessively around my waist. Had he already been planning his engagement to Victoria then?
"What are you smiling at?" Mom asked, appearing in my doorway.
I quickly locked my phone. "Just some photos from a project."
She looked at me skeptically but didn't press. "I'm heading to bed. Don't stay up too late," she said.
"I won't. Goodnight, Mom."
After she left, I returned to the photo, studying Leonardo's face. He'd been so convincing in his concern for my safety when he ended things. Had that been real, or just a convenient excuse to transition to his engagement without complications?
My finger hovered over the delete button for a moment before I sighed and put the phone down. I wasn't ready to erase those memories, not yet.
I tried to distract myself with homework, but Leonardo's face kept intruding on my thoughts. Finally, I surrendered to impulse and opened Instagram again, searching for more information about his engagement.
I found several articles announcing the news. According to Business Insider, Leonardo Salvatore and Victoria Lancaster's engagement represented a joining of two powerful business families. The wedding was expected to be one of the social events of the year, though no date had been announced yet.
I closed the browser and tried to focus on my design project, but the images of Leonardo and Victoria kept invading my concentration. Finally, I gave up and took a long shower, hoping the hot water would clear my head.
As I stood under the spray, I forced myself to be honest about my feelings. Yes, I was hurt that Leonardo had ended our arrangement. Yes, I was annoyed that he hadn't mentioned his relationship with Victoria when ending things. But mostly, I was afraid that I'd misjudged him, that all his concern for my safety had been an act to ease his conscience as he moved on to Victoria.
I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a towel, still mulling over the situation. The truth was, I didn't know which scenario to believe. Either Leonardo had genuinely ended our arrangement for my safety, with his engagement being a separate issue, or he'd used the danger as an excuse to cleanly break things off before his relationship with Victoria became public.
Both were possible. But one hurt a lot more than the other.
I dried off and slipped into my pajamas, determined to put the whole thing behind me. Leonardo Salvatore was no longer part of my life. His engagement was none of my business. I had my own path to focus on: finishing my education, building my career, and taking care of Mom.

I watched my mother hustle around the kitchen, tossing a salad with one hand while checking something in the oven with the other. Her recovery had been nothing short of remarkable. Just a few months ago, she'd been confined to a hospital bed, and now she was hosting a small dinner party to celebrate my post-graduation.
"Mom, let me help," I insisted, trying to take the salad tongs from her.
She swatted my hand away. "Absolutely not. You're the guest of honor tonight. Your only job is to look pretty and tell everyone how brilliant you are."
"I have a marketing degree, not a Nobel Prize."
"Same thing in this house," she said, kissing my cheek as she brushed past me. "Now go make sure the dining table looks decent. Emma should be here any minute."
The doorbell rang as if on cue. I opened it to find Emma standing there with a bottle of champagne and a ridiculously large balloon that said "CONGRATS" in sparkly letters.
"Really?" I asked, eyeing the balloon as it bobbed against the ceiling.
"What? It's tasteful." Emma pushed past me into the apartment. "Mrs. Mitchell! You look amazing!"
My mother beamed as Emma hugged her. "Thank you, dear. And thank you for coming."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Emma said, handing over the champagne. "Hannah Mitchell, official marketing guru. Who'd have thought?"
I shoved her playfully. "I seem to remember you being equally surprised when you graduated."
"True, but that's because I spent most of college drinking." She plopped down on the couch. "So, any job prospects yet?"
I shook my head. "Not yet. I've sent out about twenty applications this week, but nothing so far."
"Something will come up," my mom said confidently as she carried the salad to the table. "You're too talented to stay unemployed for long."
"From your lips to employers' ears," I muttered.