After I ended the call, the pain in my abdomen came back hard.

I bent over as cold sweat spread down my back. The doctor had said I lost too much blood after the miscarriage and needed at least two weeks of bed rest. No one in this villa knew that.

Thunder rolled over the Hudson like distant gunfire. Adrian came out of the study with his phone buzzing in his hand.

Evelyn’s voice drifted from the speaker. “Adrian, the thunder is so loud. Every time I close my eyes, I see Luca dying in front of me. The baby keeps kicking, and I’m scared.”

Adrian’s face changed at once. He grabbed his car keys by instinct.

That was when I finally spoke. “Don’t go.”

He stopped and looked back.

I gripped the sofa arm and forced myself to stand. My vision went dark around the edges, and I could barely make out his shape.

“I don’t feel well,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Adrian, my stomach hurts. Can you stay, or at least call a doctor for me?”

For one moment, he wasn’t completely unmoved. I saw him take half a step toward me, and real hesitation flashed through his eyes.

Then Evelyn drew a soft breath through the phone.

“Is Selena upset? Forget it. Don’t come. She’s Mrs. Moretti. I shouldn’t make things awkward for you. I only have one guard here, but if those men come back, I’ll manage somehow.”

Adrian’s hesitation vanished.

He walked to me, his voice low and sharp with warning. “Selena, don’t compete with her like this.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. If I call a doctor here now, are you going to let people say I abused family resources for you again?”

I opened my mouth, but my throat felt packed with broken glass.

That night in the emergency room, the nurse had tried over and over to reach Dr. Harrison. The answer she received was that Mr. Moretti had personally ordered Dr. Harrison to remain at the Langdon estate until Mrs. Langdon’s condition stabilized.

Our baby and I had ranked below a nightmare.

Adrian picked up his coat. “I’ll be back soon. Rest and stop overthinking.”

The front door closed softly, but it felt like the last thread between us had been cut.

At one in the morning, Evelyn posted again.

In the photo, Adrian had his back to the camera. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, and he was half kneeling by her bed with a glass of warm milk. The bedside lamp was gentle.

Her caption read:

[I only said I was scared of thunder, and he crossed half the city to get here. A always says he doesn’t know how to comfort people, but look at him. My personal bodyguard tonight. Poor thing worked so hard.]

Then she added a comment under her own post.

[Some kinds of safety can’t be begged for.]

I stared at that line and saved the screenshot into an encrypted folder.

From that night on, I stopped asking him for answers.

The next morning, I used Mrs. Moretti’s highest clearance to enter the family’s internal system. I downloaded three months of medical team dispatch records, vehicle tracking logs, security withdrawal orders, and transfers connected to Evelyn’s accounts.

Adrian thought I was just the wife he kept behind estate walls.

He had forgotten that before I married him, I was the youngest neurogenetics doctoral candidate at NYU, and the only person who had ever cracked the Moretti medical encryption system.

When I loved him, I was willing to stand in his shadow.

Now that I didn’t, I would show everyone what had been hiding there.

On our tenth anniversary, Adrian actually cleared his schedule.

He drove me himself to a private restaurant on the north shore of Long Island. The place sat on a cliff, with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the black sea and scattered lights in the distance. White roses stood on the table, and a cellist played low music in the corner.

Once, his effort would have softened me. Now it only felt ironic.

He pulled out my chair and switched my plate with the steak he had already cut, so practiced it almost looked like the man from ten years ago had come back.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight. When this mess is over, I’ll take you to Tuscany for a while. You always wanted to do a research visit there, didn’t you?”

I looked at him. His concern wasn’t entirely fake. Adrian Moretti had loved me once. The problem was that every time Evelyn and I stood on opposite sides of a scale, he pressed her side down first.

“Sure,” I said.

The main course had barely arrived when his phone vibrated. Adrian glanced at the screen, and the softness on his face tightened into tension.

I saw the caller ID: Evelyn.

He stood up and lowered his voice. “Something came up with the family. I need to take this outside.”

Five minutes later, he returned with anxiety all over his face.

“Selena, some of the Blake family’s men were seen near Evelyn’s place. She’s alone at the estate, and security says the situation is unstable.”

I put down my knife and fork and looked at him calmly.

“So you’re leaving.”

His throat moved. “I’m sorry. She’s pregnant. Luca asked me to look after her before he died. I can’t ignore this.”

“It’s our tenth anniversary.”

“I know. When I’m done, I’ll make it up to you. The necklace, dinner, a trip, anything you want. Just let me go tonight, okay?”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t ask him to stay. “Go.”

He stared at me.

I even smiled at him. “Evelyn and the baby matter more. That’s how you’ve always chosen. I shouldn’t make it harder for you.”

Adrian’s face shifted slightly, as if my words had stung him, but he had no answer.

He leaned down to kiss my forehead. I turned away.

In the end, he only said, “Wait for me.”

I watched him hurry out. The black Maybach rolled down the gravel drive, and its taillights soon disappeared into the night.

There would be no more waiting, Adrian.

I sat in the restaurant until it closed. When the server brought out the anniversary cake, I cut the first slice myself.

The frosting was sweet, but in my mouth it tasted like blood.

Ten years ago, I had been an orphan buried under my father’s debts with nowhere left to go. It was a younger Adrian who had taken me from the alley behind an underground fight club, paid off what I owed, and given me a room with heat.

That night, he put his coat around my shoulders and said, “From now on, you’re not alone. Every birthday, every anniversary, I’ll be there.”

I believed him for ten years.

And tonight, he still left.

When I returned to the villa, the rain had stopped. One of the lights over the spiral staircase was out, and I held the railing as I climbed slowly. Halfway up, a sharp cramp tore through my abdomen, and my vision went black.

As my body tumbled down the stairs, I heard the dull thud of bone against each step.

My temple split open. Blood ran along the corner of my eye. I lay on the cold marble floor and, out of instinct, pressed the emergency button on the wedding ring Adrian had given me.

It was the Moretti family’s highest-level spousal protection device. Once I pressed it, his phone, watch, and car system would all be alerted at the same time.

A few seconds later, his voice came through the earpiece.

“Selena.” He sounded impatient. “I’m handling Evelyn’s situation. Don’t turn one anniversary into this.”

I was in too much pain to speak properly.

“Adrian... I fell down the stairs.”

There was one second of silence.

Then Evelyn’s voice floated through, perfectly frightened. “Did I make you two fight? Adrian, don’t worry about me. Even if those cars are still outside, I can get through the night by myself.”

When Adrian spoke again, his voice had gone cold.

“I’ll send the night driver to check on you. Don’t hit the emergency button again.”

The call ended.

The next second, my wedding ring’s emergency access was shut off from his end.

By the time the private medical team arrived, I was close to shock from blood loss and post-surgery weakness.

When I woke again, I was in the emergency observation room at St. Mary’s. The doctor told me my body hadn’t recovered from the miscarriage or the gunshot wound, and the fall had pushed my anemia and infection markers into dangerous territory. Another half hour, and no one could guarantee what would have happened.

After listening, I asked only one question. “Can you encrypt my discharge papers and injury report and send them to this address?”

The doctor looked startled, but he nodded.

While I was handling the paperwork, I saw Adrian at the end of the hall.

He was helping Evelyn out of a VIP exam room. She wore his suit jacket over her shoulders. Her face was a little pale, but she was nowhere near danger. Adrian held a cup of warm water and coaxed her to take her medicine.

“Be good. Take the fever reducer. Your health matters more than any meeting.”

So the so-called Blake family siege had been a mild fever and a few suspicious cars.

While I lay at the foot of the stairs pressing the emergency signal, he was pouring her water.

“Selena? Why are you at the hospital?”

I leaned against the wall. “A little anemia.”

A nurse happened to come over with my scans and frowned. “Mr. Moretti? The patient fell down a flight of stairs. She has head trauma and abdominal bleeding, and she needs observation. Please don’t let her move around alone again.”

Adrian’s hand tightened so hard that the paper cup bent. “You really fell down the stairs?”

I watched the panic flash across his face and found it strangely unfamiliar.

“It’s nothing serious. I just missed a step.”

Evelyn coughed softly beside him and placed one hand on her belly while looking straight at me.

“Adrian, my stomach feels off. Did the scare hurt the baby?”

Adrian looked at me, then at her. For a few seconds, the struggle in his eyes was obvious. In the end, he still held Evelyn up.

“Selena, go get your tests done. I’ll take her back and come right back to you.”

“Okay.” He didn’t hear that there was no expectation left in that word.

By evening, my phone lit up with Evelyn’s new video.

In it, Adrian was driving his black convertible Aston Martin along the coastal road with her in the passenger seat. Evelyn turned the camera toward his hard profile, and her caption was syrupy enough to rot teeth.

[After the fever went down, I wanted ocean air, and he said yes. Mr. Moretti to everyone else, my on-call driver to me. Don’t scold him. He just loves spoiling people.]

Someone commented, [Won’t Mrs. Moretti mind?]

Evelyn replied:

[The woman who’s truly favored never has to mind.]

I bundled the video, the comments, the medical records, and the dispatch logs and scheduled them to be sent to the Moretti Commission, the Langdon family’s financial monitors, and Professor Clark.

Then I pulled out my IV and went back to the villa.

I gathered everything Adrian had left in my life over the last ten years. Photos, evening gowns, old jewelry, a copy of our vows, and the pink scarf.

The fireplace burned hot. Paper and silk curled, blackened, and became a light heap of ash.

At last, I placed the signed divorce agreement, the emergency miscarriage notice, the gunshot injury report, Evelyn’s taunting posts, and the wedding ring with its access revoked neatly on the living room coffee table.

At two in the morning, Professor Clark’s car stopped at the back gate.

The driver handed me a new ID and a black coat.

“Dr. Vale, from this moment forward, you’re entering the Black Ice Project at the Artemis Northern Institute. Your original identity will be erased in fifteen minutes.”

I got into the car and looked one last time at the villa where I had lived for ten years.

I felt no sadness. Only relief.

At the same time, Adrian finally felt a strange panic inside the Langdon estate. He watched Evelyn scroll through her phone on the sofa and suddenly remembered my nearly translucent face in the hospital corridor.

“I need to go check on Selena.” He stood.

Evelyn immediately caught his sleeve, her voice turning sweet. “You promised you’d stay with me tonight. Didn’t she say she was fine? Just call her.”

Adrian took out his phone and dialed my number.

No answer.

Then he tried to locate my wedding ring.

A red line appeared on the screen.

[Access invalid.]

For the first time, panic flashed across his face.