I packed up and walked out, flowers in hand.

At the Ricci cemetery I laid them on Grandpa Domenico's marble and breathed out a soft, final thing.

"Grandpa Domenico, I did what you asked. I paid back everything. From now on your grandson's your problem.

"Don't pull any strings—up there or down below. I'm done.

"Even if my dad begged me in a dream, I wouldn't come back."

Before I could finish, a voice cut in behind me.

"You're really leaving my family?"

I turned. Paolo stood under a tree, half-hidden in shadow.

"Yeah," I said. "Didn't you want a divorce too? Congrats. We're done. You're free. So am I."

That last dinner—our supposed final bollito misto—had been his no-show. Whatever. I had gone to the Ricci estate, grabbed the papers, and filed them myself at the courthouse.

What I hadn't expected was Patrizia calling Paolo, asking what happened.

Paolo just stood there.

I turned back to the grave, brushing dust off the marble. Grandpa Domenico had been family for over a decade—cleaning his headstone was the least I could do.

Suddenly—

"What right do you have to visit my grandfather's grave?!"

Paolo lunged, arms locking around my waist.

I jerked back, thrashing. "Paolo! Are you insane?!"

He clung tighter, like pain didn't register. His face twisted, trying to force a kiss.

"Why couldn't you just talk to me?! I heard everything—your deal with Grandpa three years ago! I've loved you forever, but you only married me for my family! You never loved ME! Never!"

His eyes were wild—bloodshot, manic. "If you don't love ME—if all you cared about was being a Ricci—then fine. The only way you stay in this family is by carrying a Ricci child!"

He clawed at my clothes like he'd snapped.

"Paolo, you've completely lost it! Let me go!" I shoved, kicked, fought like hell.

"Crazy? Damn right I am! You've looked down on me for years! I've had tall girls, short ones, thick, thin—every kind—and you never even glanced my way! But tonight? Right here in front of Grandpa? I'll take you! I'll make BOTH of you regret it!"

Zoe stood off to the side, watching like she was front row at a show.

She rested a hand on her belly, smug and disgusting.

"Aurora, quit fighting and just accept it. I'm already carrying Paolo's child. Once you finally become his woman for real, I'll be counting on you to take care of me."

Gross. Both of them. Absolutely vile.

"Paolo Ricci, stop!" I screamed, praying something would snap him out of it.

But the more I fought, the more unhinged he got.

"Aurora, you've never been this wild with me," he panted. "Is this it? Huh? You like this? The graveyard, the screaming? Just admit it—you're the twisted one!"

He grabbed my face, fingers digging in, trying to force the words out.

Then—blinding light. The cemetery lit up like midday. A line of cars screeched to a stop.

Then Marco was there—storming in and landing a punch so hard it knocked Paolo flat.

He tore off his coat, wrapped it around me, and stood between us.

"Paolo! Are you out of your mind? Aurora is the sole heiress of Khelmark's Aragona family. You dare lay a hand on her?!"

Paolo, still crazed, tried to lunge again—but Marco's bodyguards stepped in, locking him down.

"Her family's dead!" he screamed. "What heiress?! She's my wife! The lady of MY house—I can do whatever I want!"

I stared, watching him unravel.

Then I took the documents from Marco, walked over, and slammed them against his chest.

"Take a good look. My family might be gone—but our legacy? Still breathing."

Yeah, the whole Aragona line was gone. But their sacrifice—protecting top-level state records—earned them full honors.

The company didn't collapse. It was held in trust until I turned eighteen, run flawlessly by my dad's right-hand man.

On my eighteenth birthday, it was all handed to me.

That's why Grandpa Domenico begged me to stay. Even back then, he knew the Ricci family was circling the drain.

He asked for three years—to hold them up.

"Paolo, do you even know why I said yes?" I said, voice steady. "Because I kinda liked you. Just a little. Never thought you'd turn out this disgusting. That you'd actually stoop this low."

The half-truth he'd overheard years ago finally hit full circle. I wasn't some orphan clinging to the Riccis.

They were the ones clinging to me—feeding off my family's name.

"A-Aurora..." Paolo choked, eyes wide, the truth slamming into him.

He stared at me—at the ice where warmth used to be—and finally saw it. How wrong he'd been.

"Aurora, wait—let me explain... Please, just let me explain..."