Chapter 2

Getting money through Luciana proved harder than bypassing Dante's security.

She reviewed the clinic's request and set it aside. "Two hundred and eighty thousand for emergency fetal surgery?" she asked. "Do you understand what that entails?"

"I understand my baby still has a heartbeat," I said. "They need the deposit now."

Luciana gave me the patient look Dante often mistook for competence. "I'm not refusing you. I'm just asking for the documentation to justify moving that much money from the family reserves."

I explained that the doctors were still stabilizing me and couldn't finalize the surgical plan until I was in the operating room. She nodded, acting as if that proved her point.

"Then you see the problem. There's no full plan and no itemized breakdown. If I force this transfer and the clinic exaggerated the risk, Dante will have to answer for it."

When I insisted we were out of time, she lowered her voice. "I know you're frightened. But fear doesn't change procedure."

Then came her conditions. She demanded a written recommendation, a second doctor's signature, a finance release form, and confirmation from the family accountant. Every time I met one requirement, she invented another, all while assuring Dante she had everything under control.

That was the cruelest part. Dante did care, but he had already decided I was panicking. He thought the doctors had frightened me and that I was overreacting. Luciana only had to feed that belief.

By the time the money finally reached the hospital, the operating room no longer needed my answer. The child was already gone.

I remember lying in recovery with one hand resting over my stomach. I waited to feel a pain sharp enough to break me, but all that came was silence.

So when I saw the photo Luciana posted that night, I barely reacted. Her account was private, but Dante's entire circle followed it. She stood beside him at the shooting range, his hand resting over hers as he corrected her grip from behind. The caption was harmless, but the image was not.

I saved the photo and liked it.

Dante texted almost immediately.

[What are you doing?]

Before I could reply, another message appeared:

[It was just training. Don't turn it into something it isn't.]

[Luciana told me what happened at the clinic. The doctor never said it was as final as you made it sound.]

I stared at the screen until the words blurred. He cared, yet he still thought I was lying.

Another text arrived:

[I understand you're upset. But don't do this online. Since you already liked the post, leave it there. Removing it now will only make people talk. Say something gracious.]

That was Dante in a nutshell. His concern was always wrapped in a command, offering affection like a bandage over damage he refused to acknowledge.

So I did exactly what he asked.

Luciana is extraordinary, I typed. She manages the money, the schedule, the house, and apparently Dante's private training. At this point, she might as well take over the rest of my role too.

I posted the comment, set my phone down, and walked into the dressing room.

Packing took almost no time. I had lived in Dante's penthouse for three years, but almost everything inside belonged to the Valerius family. The jewelry was logged, the gowns were assigned, and the safe codes were never mine. Even my monthly cash allowance was controlled by the office downstairs.

In the end, the only items I could take without raising questions were a few clothes from before my marriage, my passport, and a folder of personal papers Dante had never asked about.

My phone began to vibrate.

Dante.

Then came a voice note.

I listened to it once.

"Alessia." His voice was tight and controlled. "Delete the comment. Then answer me."

He paused before adding, "I'm trying to help you, but I can't do that if you keep shutting me out."

I turned the phone off and dropped it into my suitcase.

At last, the room was completely quiet.

I stood in the middle of the bedroom and looked around. For years, I had called this place home. Now I finally saw it for what it was: a polished cage filled with beautiful things that were never truly mine. My life had been arranged by other hands, trapped in a marriage where another woman approved what I could touch, spend, wear, and request.

Only then did I realize how completely I had disappeared.

Once I understood that, leaving no longer felt impossible.

It felt overdue.