Sharing My Don Boyfriend With His Ex? I'd Rather Be Single

On Christmas night, I've roasted a whole turkey and paired it with the finest red wine. Then, I quietly wait for my boyfriend, Don Carlo Carlione from the Carlione family, to come home to me.

When Carlo steps through the front door, he doesn't even spare me a glance. Instead, he throws his blood-stained coat onto the couch and starts undoing his cufflinks.

"Something important is going on at the family HQ tonight, so I can't celebrate Christmas with you tonight."

He sounds very casual, as though he's talking about the weather.

I don't respond to him at all. Instead, I just slice my turkey quietly.

Later on at 1:00 am, Carlo's ex-girlfriend, Lucia Caruso, uploads a social media post right on time.

In the photo, she can be seen resting her head against Carlo's shoulder. The background shows a night sky filled with fireworks overcasting a grand bridge.

The caption reads, "He told me he can always keep me company as long as I say the word."

I don't hurl my phone in a fit of anger, nor do I call Carlo to demand for answers hysterically. Instead, I just leave a like on the post.

30 seconds later, Carlo calls me. For once, his voice is tinged with a hint of alarm.

"This is just a misunderstanding! I'll definitely celebrate next Christmas with you!"

I just shake my head with a soft sigh. "It's a shame that there's no next Christmas for us ever again."

When Carlo Carlione came back, Christmas was already three days behind us.

In the past, I would always wait at the manor gate for him, wearing my best dress and carefully applied makeup, even if the winter wind turned my lips blue. This time, I did nothing of the sort.

Carlo texted, "Where are you?"

I was eating lunch. I casually replied, "I'm at home, having lunch."

Just as I set down my fork, Carlo stepped through the door. Travel had worn him down, and snow clung to the hem of his coat.

Carlo said, "I haven't eaten yet. Make me the pasta I like."

In the past, I would have dropped everything to fry a steak or cook pasta, spending ten minutes just on the plating. But now, I simply answered, "We have a chef at home. Ask them to make it."

Carlo frowned but held his temper. "I know you're still upset about Christmas, but don't take it out on me. I haven't slept in three days."

I dried my hands and said, "I'm not angry."

He gave me a skeptical look. "Lucia is alone in that city. I had to see her, no matter what."

I nodded. "I understand."

He stared into my eyes, as if trying to see right through me.

When I stayed calm and unmoved, the tension in his face finally gave way to exhaustion. "You're really wearing me down. Can you just stop?"

I held his gaze evenly. "Carlo, I'm not upset. You don't need to