My body felt... heavy.
Disoriented.
I shifted slightly, and the silk beneath me rustled with a soft, delicate whisper.
Cool air brushed against my skin—and that was when the realization hit me.
I was no longer at the altar.
I wasn’t even in a hospital room, as I had expected.
There were no walls.
No ceiling.
Endless, open sky stretched above me, vast and impossibly blue, framed only by a sleek glass railing that separated this place from the drop below.
Panic surged through me in a violent rush.
I shot upright, my heart slamming hard against my ribs.
My eyes darted across the space, searching frantically for anything familiar.
But everything was... foreign.
This was an expansive, luxurious rooftop terrace
Polished teak flooring stretched beneath me, warm under my feet as I swung my legs off the bed.
Modern loungers sat neatly arranged, their clean lines untouched.
Every detail screamed wealth.
This place...
It wasn’t just high.
It felt like floating above reality.
My breath hitched.
I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady the violent rhythm of my heart.
Then I noticed the dress—my wedding dress, still on me.
Wrinkled. Slightly torn at the seam where I must have collapsed.
My gaze dropped to my hand.
The place where Vincenzo had forced the ring onto my finger was no longer bleeding, but a faint, angry scar circled the skin beneath it—a permanent reminder etched into flesh.
The ring itself sat there, unmoving, unyielding, as though it had fused to me.
My breath caught.
A quiet, heavy realization settled over me.
I was no longer a woman on the run.
