When I woke the next morning, Luca’s side of the bed was already empty.

Just then, my phone vibrated on the nightstand.

It was the call from the company.

“Ms. Elena Moretti, everything you requested is in place. Cleanup, severing your identity, and establishing your new one have all been completed.”

I gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment and ended the call.

A second later, another message appeared on my screen. This one was from Luca.

Elena, something urgent came up at the casino. I have to handle it myself. Go on ahead to Emerald Isle and wait for me there.

Emerald Isle.

I looked at the words, and a faint, bitter smile touched my lips.

Two years ago, Luca had bought the private island for an obscene amount of money. White sand, a private dock, a glass villa facing the sea. When he placed the deed in my hands, he had held my fingers and promised that every anniversary, he would take me there for a few quiet days, away from everyone else.

But the truth was, he had never once really been free on our anniversary.

As head of the Moretti family, there was always something. The books from the underground casinos. Weapons shipments that needed his approval. Family council meetings called without warning, even in the middle of the night.

Over the years, I had gotten used to waiting for him on days that were supposed to belong to us.

Four years ago, it had been the same.

I waited from noon until deep into the night before he finally came home, carrying the cold wind in with him. He held me and apologized over and over, promising he would make it up to me. That was the night I laughed and told him that if he really wanted to make it up to me, he could sign the beach house over to me.

I slipped the divorce papers into the property transfer documents and got his signature on the last page.

By then, I already knew about the affair.

After I left, he went mad trying to find me.

In the end, someone gave him my location for enough money.

This year, there would be no second thoughts. No one would drag me back.

After I got dressed and packed what I needed, I went downstairs.

The butler was already waiting.

“Mrs. Moretti, before he left, Mr. Moretti instructed us to prepare the yacht and an escort team if you were going to Emerald Isle.”

I nodded, but before I could answer, my phone chimed with a new message.

It came from an unknown account.

You always said betrayal was the one thing you could never forgive, didn’t you? The first time Luca slept with me, you ran straight to divorce. Now my child with him is already a year old. Are you really still going to stay?

My fingers tightened around the phone.

Then a video came through.

Luca was sitting on a sofa, his suit jacket tossed aside, his shirt sleeves rolled up. The little boy—was in his arms.

The child fussed for a moment, then quieted, pressing his face against Luca’s chest with the easy trust of someone who knew that place well.

I stared at the screen, feeling as though something had been carved out of my chest, leaving nothing behind but cold air.

So that was the emergency at the casino.

So that was why he wanted me to go ahead to Emerald Isle without him.

It was never about business.

It was about another woman and their child.

I slowly locked the screen and let out a breath.

Last night, some part of me had still wondered whether today might at least be a clean ending.

But even that small shred of dignity had been too much to expect from Luca.

At the marina parking area, the butler and the security detail got out with me.

I stopped them before they could come any farther.

“You can go back. I’m going alone. It’s our first anniversary after remarrying. I don’t want anyone else there.”

The butler hesitated. “But Mr. Moretti said—”

“I have a yacht license. I’ll be fine.”

My voice was soft, but final.

Then I turned and walked straight toward the dock.

The white yacht sat at its private berth, sleek and still in the early light, like some great animal waiting beneath the sun. By the time I stepped onto the deck, no one followed me.

I slid into the helm, and before starting the engine, I called the company.

“I’ve left.”

The voice on the other end did not waste words.

“Understood.”

I ended the call and pushed the throttle forward.

The yacht cut across the water. The sea wind lifted my hair, and sunlight shattered across the waves in blinding sheets of gold.

Half an hour later, the yacht entered the designated waters.

Then—

The explosion tore through everything at once.

Fire swallowed the sky.