I nodded, my voice tight. "Grandpa, I will. If only for your sake, I'll start over."

Since everyone had chosen Adrian Winslow, since not a single person stood on my side, then from now on I would learn to love myself. I would cut ties with all of them, cleanly and completely.

The next morning, I went to a private firm that dealt in offshore island properties.

"I want to buy an island. Completely isolated. Do you have anything like that?"

I didn't waste words. The sales agent brought out a thick portfolio and walked me through it page by page. Islands of every description blurred past my eyes. I didn't deliberate long. I picked one that looked right and paid the full amount on the spot.

"Miss Bellandi, the paperwork will take about a month. Once everything clears, you can move in officially." The agent walked me to the door, voice bright with barely contained excitement.

I nodded. "Fine. I understand."

Back at the Moretti compound, I began packing.

When I'd married into the Family, I brought very little with me. The Bellandi household had never put me first. The bedroom was large, but nearly everything in it had been given to me by Julian afterward.

The framed photo on the wall. The matching keepsakes in the cabinet. Every piece had once felt sweet to me, proof that he loved me.

Now all I saw was mockery.

I took them down one by one and put everything into a cardboard box. Before long, every trace of him was sealed away. The box was stuffed full. I carried it outside without hesitation and threw it all into the trash.

The moment I straightened up, I saw Julian Moretti walking toward me from down the path.

He hadn't seemed inclined to acknowledge me. But when his gaze swept across the photographs and gifts spilling out of the bin, his expression darkened sharply, brows drawing tight.

I acted as if I hadn't seen him and turned to leave.

"Adrian Bellandi."

He stopped me cold.

"Why are you throwing all of this away? If I remember correctly, these were your memories with my brother."

I stopped mid-step. A cold laugh flickered through me, though when I turned, my face was perfectly still.

"It's been a long time. I should move on."

"Move on?"

His expression shifted hard, and before he could think, his hand shot out and locked around my wrist.

"What do you mean by that?"

Pain flared through the joint. I frowned and wrenched free. "Let go. You're hurting me."