RENZO’S POV
I rushed back to my condo, barely noticing anything around me as I fumbled for the keys. The moment I stepped inside, I headed straight for the liquor cabinet, grabbing the nearest bottle of whiskey. Tonight, I needed something strong to drown out the chaos swirling in my mind. Everything was spiraling out of control, and the image of Dante and Sam together—hugging—was burned into my brain.
I poured a generous amount of whiskey into a glass, downing it in one gulp. The burn in my throat was nothing compared to the pain gnawing at my chest. Dante and Sam? It didn’t make sense. Dante was my friend, the one person I thought I could rely on, yet there he was, holding her as if she belonged to him.
Another glass, then another. The whiskey started to blur the edges of my thoughts, but it couldn’t erase the jealousy boiling inside me. Why did it hurt so much? I was the one who pushed Sam away. I was the one who told her it was over. Yet seeing her with someone else—with Dante—made me feel like I was losing something irreplaceable.
"You're such a fool, Renzo," I muttered to myself, pouring another shot. My mind raced back to all the times Sam had tried to reach out, to explain, but I shut her out. I convinced myself it was better this way, better to cut ties before I got hurt. But now? Now it felt like I was the one falling apart.
I slumped down onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. What was I doing? Was I really going to let my pride and anger destroy everything? Sam... She had been more than just a girlfriend. She was the one person who had always stood by me, despite all my flaws. And Dante... he wouldn’t betray me. Would he?
The alcohol was starting to take its toll, my thoughts becoming more muddled with each passing minute. But even through the haze, one thing was clear: I couldn’t ignore this any longer. I couldn’t just let Sam slip away, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let Dante be the one to comfort her while I drank myself into oblivion.
I picked up my phone, the screen blurry from both the whiskey and the tears I didn’t even realize had started to fall. My fingers hovered over Sam’s number. Should I call? Should I even try to fix this?
"Damn it," I cursed, tossing the phone aside, not ready to face the truth yet.
I blinked, trying to focus as the door swung open and Victoria stepped into my unit, her heels clicking against the floor. My vision was hazy from the whiskey, but there was no mistaking her presence—the unmistakable confidence in the way she moved, like she owned the place.
“Why are you here?” I slurred, the alcohol already clouding my judgment. My head felt heavy, and I struggled to sit up properly on the couch.
She didn’t answer right away, just calmly sat on the opposite sofa, crossing her legs and folding her arms over her chest. Her gaze was sharp, like she was assessing me, figuring out just how deep I had sunk into this drunken mess.
"So, you’re drinking yourself to death because of a girl?” she asked, her tone dripping with amusement, though there was a trace of something else I couldn’t quite place—concern, maybe?
I let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through my hair. “It’s none of your business, Victoria. Go home.”
She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with my attempt to dismiss her. “None of my business? It’s hard not to notice when the great Renzo De Luca is falling apart like this.” She leaned forward slightly, her expression softening for just a second. “You don’t usually let a woman get under your skin. What’s so special about this one?”
Her words hit a nerve, and I felt my anger flare up, but it was dulled by the alcohol in my system. “You wouldn’t understand,” I muttered, staring at the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table.
Victoria sighed, standing up from the couch and walking over to me. She took the bottle from my hand, her touch firm but not unkind. “You know, drowning yourself in this won’t fix anything, Renzo.”
I met her eyes, the usual confidence she carried now tinged with something different, something almost genuine. For a moment, I wondered why she was even here, why she cared. Victoria and I had always had a complicated relationship—never close, but never too far apart either.
"Then what will fix it?" I shot back, my voice breaking slightly. "Tell me, Victoria. What's the solution? Isn’t this what you wanted?"
Victoria let out a cold laugh, crossing her arms as she leaned against the back of the couch. "Wanted? You should be thanking me, Renzo. I told you the truth about Sam, didn’t I?"
I stared at her, my expression flat and unamused. "So, what’s your point? Why are you even here?"
She sighed, shaking her head as if I was missing something obvious. “You’re really that dense, aren’t you? I thought knowing everything about her would give you clarity, make things easier for you to move on. But here you are—drunk and spiraling. Clearly, that didn’t work.”
“My point is simple, Renzo. You’re too blinded by your pride to see what’s right in front of you. Sam isn’t the only one who cares about her.”
My grip on the armrest tightened as I felt my anger bubble up again. “What makes you think ruining Sam’s image in my eyes would help me? You didn’t help at all—you just made things worse.”
Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t ruin anything, Renzo. I told you the truth. You’re the one who chose to let it break you. And now you’re sitting here feeling sorry for yourself instead of moving on.”
I stood up, suddenly feeling too restless to stay seated any longer. “You don’t get it, Victoria. It’s not that simple.” My voice cracked as I ran a hand through my hair, pacing back and forth in front of her. “Everything about Sam... it’s complicated. I don’t know if I hate her, or if I still—”
“Still love her?” Victoria finished the sentence for me, her voice taunting yet knowing.
I froze, the words lingering in the air like a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. Did I still love Sam? After everything—the lies, the hurt, the confusion—was there a part of me that still wanted her?
Victoria stood up, walking over to me with a slow, deliberate pace. She placed a hand on my arm, her touch cold yet steady. “Listen, Renzo, you need to stop acting like that. Remember, it was her family that destroyed ours. Her father almost killed me, Renzo.”
Her words sliced through the haze in my mind, bringing me back to the present. I clenched my jaw, trying to shake off the memories of Sam. But it was like trying to wash away blood stains that had seeped too deep.
"You have the power to decide what you want. Either you let this break you, or you pull yourself together and figure out what you really want. Sam’s not worth all this if she’s making you lose yourself. To be honest, I shouldn’t even be telling you this because I’m still angry about what you did to me back then, but since Dad insisted, I come here, I didn’t have a choice," she said firmly.
"Victoria," I muttered, my voice hoarse, "please…”
She pulled back, studying me with sharp eyes. "If you want to save yourself, Renzo, you have to let her go. Let her and everything tied to her disappear."
Victoria's words echoed sharply in the air; her voice relentless. She was right—holding on to Sam was tearing me apart, but the thought of letting her go was unbearable. I let out a long, frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair.
"I wish it were that easy," I muttered, my voice low.
"Don't do what you did to Shayla, Renzo," she said suddenly, her tone carrying a warning.
I frowned, caught off guard. "What?"
"Shayla... your ex-girlfriend you used to be obsessed with," she answered bluntly.
Her words hit me like a punch. Shayla. The name I hadn’t heard in years but one I could never forget. A deep, painful memory stirred inside me—the one I thought I had buried long ago.
"That was different," I replied, my voice tight, already defensive.
Victoria shook her head, her eyes narrowing. "Was it? You were obsessed with her, Renzo, just like you're obsessed with Sam now. And look what happened."
I clenched my jaw, the anger bubbling up from the past. "I loved Shayla," I snapped, though even I wasn’t sure if I believed it anymore. "That wasn’t just obsession."
"Love doesn’t destroy you like that, Renzo. It doesn’t turn you into someone you don’t recognize."
Her words cut deeper than I wanted to admit. Shayla had been everything to me once—just like Sam was now. But I hadn’t seen the cracks in that relationship until it was too late. The way I lost myself in her, the way I thought I could control everything, including her. It hadn’t been loved—it had been obsession. And when it all fell apart, it nearly broke me.
"I was young," I muttered, trying to brush it off, but the weight of Shayla's memory pressed on my chest. "It’s different now."
"Is it?" Victoria challenged, stepping closer. "Because from where I’m standing, you’re on the same path. You can’t fix what’s broken, Renzo, not with control, not with power. You need to learn when to let go."
I turned away from her, staring out the window. The city lights blurred beneath the growing storm inside me. Let go? How could I let go when Sam was still under my skin, in my thoughts, in every breath I took?
"Sam isn’t Shayla," I said through gritted teeth, trying to convince myself more than her. "Sam’s different."
"Are you really going to choose her over your family, Renzo?" she said softly, but her words were like a knife. "I'm your sister, you know what her father did to me."
I struggled to keep my head clear. The alcohol had dulled my senses, but I could still feel the weight of her accusation. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm, but her words were cutting too deep. I knew what Sam’s father had done to Victoria, how it had nearly destroyed her.
"Stop being obsessed with her, stop being a manipulator," Victoria continued, her voice firm, unrelenting. "Don't do what you did to Shayla again!"
Hearing Shayla's name again, the one word that haunted me, was enough to snap something inside me. I whipped around, my anger flaring as I met Victoria's gaze.
"Stop it!" I spat, my voice louder than I intended. "You don’t know what you’re talking about, Victoria. This isn’t like before. Sam isn’t Shayla, and you have no right to bring her up like that!"
But Victoria didn’t flinch. She stood her ground, staring at me with those same piercing eyes she had since we were kids.
"Don't mention Shayla again," I snapped, my voice cold and sharp. "Because she's gone." I could feel the anger boiling up, every word a desperate attempt to shut her out. "Are you done? You came here just to destroy me because you're angry. So, you can leave now, because you've already done that."
I was ready for her to lash back, to throw my words in my face, but she didn’t. Instead, Victoria just looked at me, her expression shifting from anger to something else—pity. That look stung more than anything she could have said.
Without another word, Victoria turned and walked out, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the unbearable truth hanging in the air.
As the door closed behind her, I sank into the nearest chair, burying my face in my hands. My mind raced back to all the moments I had with Sam and Shayla.
Her words lingered long after she left, leaving me alone with the memories of Shayla and the haunting truth of what I had become.
And now, the same question gnawed at my mind: Could I really let Sam go before she became another ghost of my past? Or was I too far gone to stop the spiral?
The silence in the room was deafening, but inside, my thoughts roared.