That fucking last name attached to me turns my stomach like spoiled milk.
I keep my expression neutral as I respond. “I understandthe concern, but I had to step away for my own safety.”
“Why weren’t you safe?”
“What happened?”
“Tell us more!”
The questions tumble out of the reporters, jumbling together as they desperately try to gather intel.
I press my lips into a firm line. “I won’t go into details—”
I’m cut off by someone’s shout. “You can’t just—”
Enzo’s chest rumbles next to me. He takes a menacing step forward. The press visibly gulps, shutting down their questions.
“I can assure you—I am exactly where I want to be,” I continue.
After my conversation with Massimo Russo, I called Cam. I hadn’t planned to speak to him so soon, but this idea had to be discussed first.
Cam sent me the carefully curated script. Every word is calculated. I can’t say too much. I must be evasive, yet firm—make it clear I left by choice.
Another reporter jumps in. “Are you and Mr. Delaney no longer together? You only just married.”
The sea of faces in front of me blur together as I stand on the steps outside the courthouse. A light drizzle of rain coats my skin, my hair, but I don’t let it bother me. My rehearsed lines run through my mind. I smile for the camera, just as Lucas did, knowing he’s watching. “That’s between me and my husband.”
A voice cuts through the noise. “What about the Russo family?”
Enzo steps up beside me, his presence grounding. “IsoldeRomano”—I love that he uses my maiden name— “is now under our protection.”
He doesn’t need to say anything else. Everyone in this city knows exactly what the Russo name means.
Another reporter shouts over the din, "Are you saying Lucas Delaney is lying about you being held against your will?"
I stare directly into the nearest camera, my voice unwavering. "I am not being held against my will. I am here by choice."
Enzo's hand presses against the small of my back, a subtle reassurance that makes me stand taller. His touch, so light yet so present, reminds me that I'm not facingthis alone.
"That's all for now," Enzo announces, his tone brooking no argument. "Ms. Romano needs her rest."
The reporters surge forward, a tidal wave of questions and flashing cameras, but Enzo's men form a barrier between us and them. We retreat to the waiting car, sliding into the backseat as the driver pulls smoothly away from the curb.
I release a shaky breath, my heart hammering. There’s a sense of foreboding that washes over me. Lucas won’t take kindly to being humiliated so publicly.
"Are you okay?" Enzo asks, his deep voice cutting through my thoughts.
I nod, not trusting my voice. The reality of what we've just done settles over me like a heavy cloak. There's no going back now.
"Lucas will come for me," I whisper, staring out the window as raindrops race down the glass. "He won't let this go."
Enzo's hand covers mine, warm and steady. "Let him try."
The car weaves through traffic, taking a circuitous route back to Enzo's building. Standard procedure, I assume—making sure we're not followed. My training kicks in as I scan our surroundings, noting potential threats, escape routes.
This morning, before the conference, theconsigliere7 and I worked through the divorce papers, and I signed them. Now, Lucas will be served them, and while unlikely, I still hope that he’ll sign them without a fight.
However, the chances of that happening are slim to none. Lucas wants my money. That’s why he waited to kill me until after we got married. I had him sign a prenup so that if we divorce, he can’t take half of Papa's fortune. But if I’m dead…
