I freeze.
“She’s off in some tiny, insignificant town. Lorenzo has men stationed there twenty-four hours a day. She’s not allowed to leave. Not allowed to date. Not allowed to live.” Francesca lifts her chin. “She’s a ghost. All because she loved a mafia Don.”
It feels like the room tilts sharply to one side. My breath comes fast and thin. If this is true…if even half of it is true?—
My life is no longer my own.
Francesca smooths her skirt again, voice turning almost gentle. Almost.
“As I said, I’m here with a peace offering. One where you get more than you deserve, though, I admit, I’ll be getting something out of it, too.”
I swallow hard. “What is it?”
“I’ll help you leave.”
The words hit like a punch.
“You pick the city,” she says smoothly. “I’ll make sure you get there without Lorenzo knowing. You will be able to live your life.” Then she leans in slightly. “And we can finally move on with our life and our family.”
My breath catches.
Her bump. Her suitcase in the closet. Her certainty. She’s not offering me freedom out of kindness. She’s offering me exile so she can secure her place by his side.
But she also might be offering something else.
A chance at a life that doesn’t belong to him.
“I’d say I’d give you time to think it over, but we don’t have time,” Francesca says crisply, rising from the bed with the easy confidence of a woman who has already won. “If you want to go, we need to be at the airport in an hour.” Her gaze sweeps the room dismissively. “Pack lightly. And, for the love of god, don’t do anything stupid like texting him or leaving a note.”
My heart thuds painfully. “How do you know he won’t find me?”
She smiles coldly.
“Because the moment you leave this penthouse, Elizabeth Miller goes away.” Her voice softens, mockingly kind. “I’ll even let you pick your new name. Once you’re ready, meet me in my room. And remember… one hour, or it’ll be too late.”
She leaves without another word, the scent of her expensive perfume lingering like a curse.
And I—I have no idea what the right choice is.
My chest aches with the thought of Lorenzo coming home and finding me gone. Of hurting him the way he hurt me. Of leaving without a goodbye.
But maybe it really is for the best.
Especially if I’m pregnant.
The thought wraps around me like barbed wire. Lorenzo’s world is bloodshed and shadows and consequences that ruin entire families. A child deserves safety, stability, and a life far from mafia violence and obsessive men who love too hard and too dangerously.
By leaving now I’d be protecting my baby, if there is one. And myself. And maybe even him.
God, this is madness.
Am I really thinking of leaving?
Yes. Yes, I am.
I move in a trance, grabbing only what I need. A few clothes. My passport. My phone. Photos of me and Sienna. The barest remnants of a life that never really belonged to me.
When I’m done, I sling the bag over my shoulder and step into the hallway with legs that barely feel like mine.
