Farewell to My Undercover Ex The Fall and Rebirth of a Mafia Princess Chapter 07
Claire showed up at my studio unannounced.
I was fixing Nolan’s collar, getting him ready for the shoot.
She stormed in, heels clicking against the floor.
The thick glasses were gone. Designer clothes, hair done, a full face
of makeup, the whole production.
But I was a photographer. No amount of foundation could hide the
exhaustion underneath.
Her eyes went straight to my hand on Nolan’s collar. I was undoing
his top button. Client’s call.
“So this is your little boy toy? Wow. You’ve got a man and you’re
still trying to sink your claws into my husband?”
Nolan shot to his feet. “Excuse me? You wanna run that by me again…”
I pressed his shoulder and pushed him back down.
I couldn’t let her wreck this shoot. The job needed focus, and I
needed to stay ice–cold.
And the look on Nolan’s face? Absolutely perfect.
I lifted the camera and started shooting.
Claire grabbed the camera out of my hands and slammed it on the floor.
The lens shattered.
I crouched down and looked at the wreckage. Kept my voice level.
“That body and lens are done. I’ll need full replacement cost plus a
week of lost income.”
“Who do
you think you are?!” She stood over me like I was
something stuck to her shoe. “I have full access to Dec’s accounts.
How much could this piece of crap even cost?”
*I’ll invoice you.”
“What?!” Claire stared at me. “Are you insane? You think you can
shake me down? Forget it. Five thousand. Take it or leave it.”
Apparently the lieutenant’s wife wasn’t as flush with cash as she liked to pretend.
I pulled out my phone like I was about to call the precinct. ‘I’m sure
Declan’s Captain would love to see a police report about his
lieutenant’s wife destroying private property.”
That did it. Terrified of a scandal, Claire caved.
*Fine! Send me the receipt! I’ll pay you in a week!”
Seven days later, the money hit my account.
Claire also texted. [Stay away from Declan. Or I’ll make sure the
tabloids know exactly where the Whitmore heiress is hiding, along
with your little boy toy.]
Nolan was still in school, and his modeling career was barely off the
ground. I couldn’t let her blow it up.
So I called Declan.
When Declan showed up at the studio, he brought croissants from that bakery near campus.
Just like he used to, he’d tucked them inside his coat to keep them
warm. Still steaming when he pulled them out.
“Grabbed these on the way over. Try one. See if it’s as good as you remember.*
On the way?
He’d come from the south side. I was on the north.
I took a bite, but it didn’t taste the way I remembered. I couldn’t tell
if the bakery had changed or I had.
I stopped eating and left the bag outside for a stray cat.
Declan’s voice went soft. “You haven’t changed a bit, you know that?
Still feeding strays. You used to feed every cat on campus.
Remember?”
I didn’t answer.
He kept going. “Every weekend, you’d drag me out to sit on the curb
for hours while you sketched every dog and cat that walked by.
You’d lose track of time completely… Wait. Why’d you stop drawing? Why’d you switch to photography?**
My hand went still.
It took me a long time to answer. “The heavy sedatives you forced
on me damaged my nerve endings. I can’t draw anymore.”
Declan went quiet.
The cat finished eating and stretched out in the sun, purring.
His voice cracked. “It was my fault. All of it. You lost your dad. You
lost the thing you loved most.”
Tell me how to fix this. Ren. Tell me there’s still a way to earn you back.”