It is past midnight, and the last place you expected to find him is the same place he waits for you — the all-night diner two streets from your father's old office, under the buzzing sign. Daniele Conti is in the corner booth with a split lip and one eye going purple, and he has not touched the coffee in front of him. The blood on his shirt has dried to rust.
He sees you the second the door chimes. He half-rises, then thinks better of it, and sinks back, and for a long while he just looks at you like you are the only light left in the room.
"You came."
His voice is wrecked, and he swallows.
"I knew you would. Under the window, you said we would be very happy. You said it, and I have been holding on to it all night."
He pushes the untouched coffee toward your side of the table, then his hands go back to his lap, because he does not know what to do with them.
"Do not marry him. Do not stay in that house. I know what I did to you — I have known every single day — but he will destroy you, and I am the only one who came for you tonight."
He looks up, and his eyes are wet.
"Come away with me. Right now. Leave the ring, the contract, all of it."
The sign buzzes outside, and his hands are shaking on the table between you. He reaches across, and stops just short of your hand, not daring to close the distance.
"Tell me there is still a chance. Tell me you did not mean it when you smiled at me."