8 A New Man

Marco’s POV

The rain had come without warning, but it wasn't my concern. Someone beside me offered an umbrella.

I waved everyone back. David and I strolled in the rain. The sound of raindrops hitting the umbrella made a muffled noise, a constant patter that isolated us from the world.

If Harper were here, she’d be surprised. She probably didn’t know that David was the largest shareholder of this school.

This school had been established by David and his family, which is why when she came to the U.S., my father sent her here.

Only this way could Harper’s safety be ensured. Perhaps it was because David was too busy that he couldn't keep a constant eye on her, so her relationship with that boy hadn’t reached our ears.

Today, after finishing a meeting, I came to the school to see David. In truth, there wasn’t anything particularly urgent that I needed to discuss with him. I couldn't quite understand why I felt the need to come—it was as though I simply wanted to see her.

David noticed my restless demeanor and gave a small smile. He was a smart man; he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

“Why didn’t you let Harper marry into the Conti family? Isn’t that a win-win situation? If the Moretti family joined forces with the Contis, you’d be able to dominate the North American mafia much more quickly.”

We chatted as we walked, and before long, we found ourselves in the hallway outside David’s office.

I wasn't in the mood to respond because a figure had caught my eye—Harper. Her white shirt was completely soaked, clinging to her skin. Her neatly styled hair was now in damp strands sticking to her face. Worse yet, there was a scrape on her elbow, and with her delicate skin, the wound looked painful.

I was about to take off my suit jacket when a man stepped in front of Harper, holding an umbrella.

She always had knights beside her.

David was about to approach, but I stopped him.

“This is a secret visit. It’s best not to reveal ourselves.”

David could only tap his forehead in frustration and smile at me helplessly.

Harper’s POV

I heard someone approach, but it was someone I didn’t know.

He had an attractive face, different from Marco’s type—more delicate, like the kind of young hero from a comic book.

He had bright golden hair and deep blue eyes. I thought that if he were an actor, he’d have many fans.

Realizing I was staring, I quickly looked down, but he knelt and handed me his coat.

“Harper, I’m Angelo. I messaged you this morning. I’m sorry I didn’t mention that I also study here. It was inappropriate of me to disturb you, but you seem to need some help right now. Can I take you to the nurse’s office?”

His eyes were like a sea, and I couldn’t help but feel drawn in. I found myself nodding before I realized it.

He smiled gently. Was I being too forward? I moved my leg, only then realizing I was injured. It hurt too much to stand. There was no point in trying to be tough, so I accepted his help.

He picked me up. Honestly, I was worried at first whether he could carry me, but he turned out to be stronger than he looked.

He took me to the nurse’s office. Because of me, he hadn’t used his umbrella, and water dripped from his hair. Feeling guilty, I spoke up, “Um, Angelo… how about I treat you to a meal when I’m better? Thanks for helping me today.”

I hadn’t even responded to his message this morning. He seemed so gentlemanly; I thought maybe we could be friends.

He took the towel handed to him by the school nurse, then flashed his signature smile, “I’d be honored, Harper, but helping you was my choice.”

He winked at me, and I couldn’t help but feel moved. He was so different from Matthew. My relationship with Matthew had been what everyone expected—we were a cheerleader and a quarterback, the perfect pair.

Honestly, I had been attracted to his looks and popularity. His affection was passionate, direct—but as quickly as it had come, it had faded.

This young man in front of me was different. He told me openly that he liked me. He was a gentleman, gentle, giving me enough space.

But having just been betrayed, I didn’t have the energy for another relationship.

He didn’t push me. Instead, he helped me get permission to leave school for the day, and in the evening, he put me in my family’s car, waving through the window as I left.

For some reason, I felt a sense of calm.

When I got home, Mom hugged me, crying, and I ended up having to comfort her. “It’s okay, Mom. It’s just a small injury. I just scraped it.”

Dad, on the other hand, looked at me with sharp eyes. I knew I couldn't hide anything from him, but I didn’t expect him to knock on my door that night. “Harper, can we talk?”

I nodded, hugging my stuffed toy as I sat up. He took a seat in a small chair that looked almost comically tiny for him. It was ridiculous but also kind of cute.

“Angelo asked me for your contact information yesterday. I thought I’d let you two get to know each other. Your brother said you had a boyfriend, so I didn’t think much of it afterward. When you got home today, your mother was scared to death. I also noticed that the necklace around your neck was gone. Can you tell me what happened?”

I looked up at him, seeing the warmth and understanding in his eyes. They were the eyes of a father. I hadn’t felt like crying before, but looking at him, my tears suddenly fell.

I felt so pathetic.

Then he asked me, “May I hug you?”

The hug was so warm, so comforting. This was what having a dad felt like—having someone to listen when you’re hurt, having someone to see and understand your pain and fears.

I cried for a long time, and he said to me, “Harper, love is important, but there are many things in life more important than love. Many people care about you, like your mom, and me. Some relationships are destined to be short-lived. Think about it—was your ex-boyfriend someone you truly saw a future with? Someone you’d sacrifice for? Your relationship was driven by passion, and when that passion faded, your breakup was inevitable. This isn’t your fault, dear. There are so many men in this world—I refuse to believe my daughter won’t find a better one. Don’t be sad. Be confident.”

I don’t remember much else after that. When I woke up the next morning, I felt a sense of relief, even though my eyes were a bit puffy.

Right on time, I received a message. It was from Angelo.

“Good morning. [Image] Here’s my breakfast. Have you eaten yet?”

I looked up, meeting my dad’s encouraging gaze. Taking a deep breath, I replied: “I’m eating. Next time, you can join me for breakfast at my home.”

Yes, my home. This was my home. With family, I had strength.

And across the table, Marco’s hand tightened around his knife and fork before loosening again. No one knew what darkness lurked in his eyes.