For three days, I locked myself in my bedroom, drawing all the curtains.

Roberto knocked on my door repeatedly, but the food he brought was left untouched outside. I could hear him sighing, muttering things like, "Miss, you'll make yourself sick," but I didn't care.

I just lay in bed, clutching the burnt scrap of my mother's portrait, not moving.

But someone wouldn't let me have my peace.

Ava kept sending me texts.

Photos of her and Dante walking on the beach. A video of a necklace he'd bought her for a fortune. A blurry picture of them tangled together in bed.

"Thank you for setting us free. —Ava"

I should have deleted them. Blocked her number.

But I didn't.

Like a masochist, I stared at the images, watching my husband dote on another woman, until my heart grew numb and the pain finally subsided.

And whatever love I once had for Dante Moretti finally died in the process.

On the fifth day, my phone rang. It was my friend, Sophia.

I hesitated, then answered.

"Elara? God, you sound awful. What's wrong?" Sophia’s voice was full of concern.

"Nothing, just a cold," I said, trying to sound normal.

"Listen, I know this is a huge ask, but I'm desperate," she said, her words rushed. "There's a charity gala tonight, and I was supposed to play the violin, but my mom was just hospitalized. I have to get to Boston."

"Do you remember?" she said, pausing. "In college, you were always a better violinist than me, it's just that later…" She trailed off. "Anyway, can you please, please cover for me? It's just one piece, 'Ave Maria.' I know you still remember it."

'Ave Maria'.

It was my mother's favorite. She said it held the purest love and the deepest longing in the world.

After a long pause, I agreed.

I did my makeup carefully, the delicate details a shield. A white chiffon dress added an ethereal, almost holy quality to my appearance.

I barely recognized the woman in the mirror.

It was the first time since my mother's death that I hadn't hidden behind an aggressive, intimidating facade.

Before going on stage, a young crew member asked me, "Nervous?"

I shook my head. Strangely, I wasn't. In fact, I felt a sense of peace I hadn't felt in years.

Music had always been my sanctuary. No matter how much pain life threw at me, I could always find serenity when I held my violin.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our solo violinist, performing 'Ave Maria.'"

The host's voice filled the hall as a spotlight hit center stage.

I took a deep breath and walked into the light.

The audience quieted, their eyes on me.

I didn't look at them. I just closed my eyes, settled the violin on my shoulder, and let my fingers find the strings.

The first note soared through the ballroom.

In that moment, the world fell away.

The melody of 'Ave Maria' flowed like silk, every note precise, filled with emotion. In that music, I poured all my memories, all my love, all my pain, and all my letting go.

When the final note faded, the hall was plunged into a dead silence.

Then, thunderous applause erupted.

I opened my eyes and took a deep bow.

As I straightened up, I saw him.

Dante. Sitting in the third row, dressed in a black tuxedo, staring at me. His expression was one I'd never seen before—shock, awe, and something else, something complex and unreadable.

Beside him, Ava, in a pink gown, was tugging at his sleeve. "What's wrong with you?" I couldn't hear her, but I could read the annoyance on her face. "Why are you staring at her?"

Dante didn't answer her. He just kept looking at me.

Our eyes met across the room, and for a second, time stopped.

He was seeing a version of Elara he never knew existed—not the hot-headed wife he was forced to marry, but a woman made of fragile strength.

And I was seeing a man I once loved, and now had to completely let go of.

I broke the gaze, gave the audience one last bow, and walked off the stage.

The applause continued behind me, but I knew this performance wasn't just for Sophia. It was for me.

This was my farewell. A final goodbye to the old me.

A final goodbye to Elara Moretti.

From now on, I was starting over.

After the performance, the organizers insisted I stay for the dinner. I tried to refuse, but they were persistent.

I found a quiet corner, hoping to eat quickly and leave, but I could feel a pair of eyes burning into me.

I didn't have to look to know who it was.

"Dante, you're acting weird tonight."

Ava's voice, sharp with annoyance, carried from a nearby table. I glanced over. She had her arm looped possessively through Dante's.

"It's nothing," Dante replied, his voice flat.

"Really?" she snapped. "Then why have you been staring at your ex-wife ever since she got on stage? What's so special about her scraping on a damn violin?"

"Ava, watch your mouth," Dante warned.

"Did I say something wrong?" Her voice grew shrill. "Don't tell me you still have feelings for her. Dante, don't you forget, she's the one who filed for divorce! She was never worthy of being a Moretti!"

I'd heard enough. I stood up to leave.

Just then, a man in a black suit hurried to Dante's side and whispered something in his ear.

I saw Dante's face darken instantly.

"When did this happen?" he demanded.

"Three hours ago," the man replied. "The Castellano family is saying we leaked the trade route. They lost five million in product."

"Do we know who leaked it?"

"We're investigating, but… less than ten people in the organization knew that route."

A mole.

There was a traitor in the Moretti family.

"We're leaving," Dante said in a low voice.

But as he turned to go, Ava grabbed his arm.

"Dante, wait." She shot me a venomous look. "I think you should know—I saw Elara meeting with a strange man a few days ago. Maybe…"

She let the sentence hang, but her insinuation was clear.

I looked at her coldly. "You'd better have proof, or I'll sue you for slander."

Dante frowned. He knew I would never jeopardize the family business. "Ava, that's enough."

Her eyes filled with a jealous fire, then brimmed with tears. "Dante, I'm not lying."

"I have proof."

She pulled out her phone and played a video.

On the screen, a woman who looked exactly like me was laughing with a known underboss from a rival family.

But I knew, with sickening certainty, that it wasn't me.

Ava pressed her advantage. "This was right after you burned her mother's things. Maybe she just snapped. Wanted revenge..."

I saw Dante's expression shift.

He was wavering.

"That's enough, Ava," I said, my voice low but firm. "I swear on my family's name, I am not a traitor."

Ava smirked. "Then where were you yesterday afternoon?"

"At home," I said, meeting her gaze. "Is there a problem?"

"Can anyone prove that?"

I fell silent. Roberto had been out for groceries. I was alone.

"See?" Ava said triumphantly to Dante. "She doesn't even have an alibi."

"Ava, you're insane," I said, trembling with rage. "I don't know anything about a trade route. Why would I do this?"

"For revenge," Ava said, as if it were obvious. "You hate that Dante chose me, so you decided to destroy him."

"I…"

"Enough."

Dante finally spoke, his voice dangerously low.

I thought he would defend me, that he would shut down Ava's insane accusations.

But he looked at me with cold, hard suspicion.

"Marco," he said to his man. "Take her back."

I froze. "What?"

"Take her back to the estate," Dante said, not looking at me. "Lock her in the Penance Room."

The Penance Room.

I'd heard of it. It was a converted cold-storage unit in the basement, kept at freezing temperatures, where the Morettis interrogated traitors.

"Dante, are you crazy?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You actually believe her?"

"The families are watching," he finally said, his eyes meeting mine. "Until you're cleared, you're a liability."

He tried to soften his tone. "Just until we clear this up. You'll be fine."

His words were meant to be reassuring, but a chill ran down my spine.

He might not believe I was guilty, but he wasn't going to protect me.

If it were Ava, would he be this ruthless?

The question echoed in my mind as two guards grabbed my arms.

"Dante," I said, not struggling. I looked him dead in the eye. "You will regret this."

He had already turned away, giving me nothing but his cold, unforgiving back.

Ava followed him, glancing over her shoulder at me with a victorious smirk.

She'd won. With a few lies, she had turned me from a victim into a criminal.

The car pulled through the gates of the estate. This place, once my home, was now my prison.

The Penance Room was in the deepest part of the basement. When the heavy iron door slammed shut behind me, a bone-deep cold instantly enveloped me.

Within ten minutes, my teeth were chattering.

My body, still weak from the miscarriage, couldn't handle this. A healthy person might endure it, but for me, it was torture.

Just as the time he promised was approaching, I heard a man's voice outside the door.

"The Don said half an hour is too short. Add another hour."

The guard on duty hesitated. "An hour? Isn't that too long?"

"It's the Don's order! You just follow it!"

"…Yes, sir."

I listened, numb.

I didn't know if it was truly Dante's order or another one of Ava's schemes.

Either way, the truth was the same. Dante had abandoned me. Again.

The day after the interrogation, I came down with a raging fever.

For a full week, I was in and out of consciousness in a private hospital bed. A nurse told me my temperature had spiked to 106 degrees several times. They'd almost lost me.

Dante never came.

On the day I was discharged, a family elder informed me there was an important underground auction that night. He said I had to attend with Dante.

I wanted to refuse, but his words left me no choice. "This is about the family's honor, Elara. Whatever is going on between you two, in public, you are still man and wife."

Man and wife.

The words were a bitter joke.

Just as I finished changing into my gown, my lawyer called.

"Mrs. Moretti, I have wonderful news," he said, his voice buzzing with excitement. "The divorce is finalized. All the paperwork has been filed with the court. You can officially announce it whenever you're ready."

My hand holding the phone trembled.

Freedom. It was finally within my grasp.

The auction was in another abandoned factory. Places like this were usually safe, protected by a truce between the major players. But tonight, someone had broken the rules.

Shortly after I arrived, the sound of gunfire erupted outside.

"We're under attack! Everyone get out!"

The place descended into chaos. People screamed and scattered.

My instincts, honed by years of living this life, made me look for Dante.

He was nearby, calmly directing his men to form a defensive line. His eyes met mine, and a complex emotion flickered across his face.

Just then, Ava came running from the side.

"Dante! Help me!" she shrieked, her voice filled with terror. "I'm hurt!"

I saw a shallow scratch on her arm, probably from the panicking crowd.

But Ava acted like she was dying, collapsing dramatically into Dante's arms.

"It hurts…" she whispered weakly. "Dante, I'm so scared…"

Dante looked down at her, and his expression instantly softened.

"It's okay, I'll protect you," he murmured, stroking her hair. He turned to one of his men. "Get a car ready. We're taking her to the hospital."

He scooped her up and started for the exit.

As he passed me, he hesitated. "Wait here. I'll be back for you."

"Okay," I said, giving him a small smile. It was the last smile I would ever give him. "I'll wait."

Of course, I wouldn't. I had no more expectations.

Dante disappeared with Ava into the chaos.

I was about to find my own way out when a group of Rosetti family thugs blocked my path.

"Elara Moretti," the leader said with a cruel grin. "Our boss wants a word with you."

They tied me up in a deserted warehouse. The leader pulled out his phone and dialed Dante's number.

Once, twice, three times…

No answer.

"Damn it!" the man cursed, dialing again.

I sat on the chair, watching his growing frustration with a strange sense of calm.

Dante was busy with the love of his life. He didn't have time to answer his phone.

After the tenth call went unanswered, the leader exploded. "What the hell is that bastard doing!"

"He's at the hospital with his girlfriend," I said calmly. "You grabbed the wrong person. To Dante Moretti, I'm worthless."

The leader stared at me. "Impossible. You're his wife!"

"Ex-wife," I corrected. In that split second of his confusion, I used the piece of wire I'd concealed to slice through the ropes on my wrists.

My training hadn't gone to waste. I broke free, snatched a gun from the nearest guard, and took them all out before they knew what was happening.

I walked out of the warehouse and called my own security. "Pick me up."

While I waited, an unexpected person arrived—Dante. He looked frantic, his clothes disheveled.

But I was no longer the Elara who melted at his scraps of affection.

He saw that I was unharmed, and a look of relief washed over his face. "Elara, I'm late. I was coming right back for you, but Ava… she really needed me…"

"It's fine. I'm okay, aren't I?" I said with a smile, cutting him off.

My calmness seemed to throw him.

He tried again. "My phone died. I didn't abandon you on purpose. And the other day, in the Penance Room… it wasn't my order to keep you there longer. I've already dealt with the man who did it…"

I nodded, feeling no relief. "I see."

Dante looked lost. "Elara…"

My car pulled up.

I got in, then looked back at Dante one last time. "I have a gift for you. Make sure you're watching the sky tonight."

And then, I was gone.

I didn't go home. I called my lawyer.

"Execute the plan," I said, my voice firmer than it had ever been. "Do it now."

At exactly midnight, every electronic billboard in downtown Chicago lit up at once.

Giant red letters blazed against the night sky:

CONGRATULATIONS TO ELARA ROMANO AND DANTE MORETTI ON THEIR DIVORCE! FINALLY FREE!