Three days later, I finally had the termination agreement.

Dante had kept his promise and signed the document.

I looked at the paper, feeling a lightness I hadn't felt in a long time.

"Congratulations, Miss Elara," Antonio said, handing me a folder. "Here are the files for your projects."

I opened it. Inside was a record of my five years of work.

Every painting, every artifact, held a piece of my soul.

"There is one last event you need to attend," Antonio continued. "Tonight at eight. A celebration hosted by the Rossi family. It will be your final duty."

I frowned. "I thought the contract was terminated."

"It officially takes effect tomorrow," Antonio explained. "Consider tonight a farewell."

Fine.

One last time.

I went back to my apartment and changed into a simple black evening gown.

The woman in the mirror looked calm, but the light in her eyes was gone.

This was the price.

The price for loving the wrong man.

At 8 PM, I arrived at the Rossi family estate.

A lavish party was underway to celebrate the engagement.

Dante and Isabella were officially announcing their wedding date.

Three months from now.

I stood in the crowd, watching the couple embrace on the stage.

Isabella was in a red gown, a blooming rose.

Dante's arm was around her waist, a rare smile on his face.

"Honored guests," Isabella said into the microphone. "Thank you all for joining us at our first celebration since our engagement."

The room erupted in applause.

"Tonight, I have a special surprise for my fiancé."

She gestured for Dante to roll up his shirt sleeve.

My heart suddenly hammered against my ribs.

He had a tattoo on his wrist. A star compass. Ours. From three years ago.

"Guidance," he'd said. Because I was his.

I remembered that afternoon, lying on the tattoo parlor beds, he held my hand and said, "This is our secret. It will never change."

But when Dante rolled up his sleeve, I didn't see our tattoo.

The star compass was still there, but it was surrounded by a new design.

The Rossi family crest.

A coiled serpent, encircling the compass.

The new ink completely changed the meaning of the original.

"We've... updated it," Isabella announced, her voice dripping with triumph. "It symbolizes our future. Not his past."

She took his hand and kissed the modified tattoo.

More applause.

I stood in the corner.

My numb heart couldn't feel a thing.

The tattoo that once symbolized our love had been completely covered by her family's crest.

Just like my mark on his life was being erased, piece by piece.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

Isabella had appeared beside me.

She raised her wine glass, a victorious smile on her face.

"Did you see it? The tattoo," she continued. "Dante told me it was an impulsive mistake from his youth. It's finally been corrected."

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

"Dante said it himself. Some mistakes are so ugly, they need to be completely buried." Her eyes raked over me, a smug, vicious smile playing on her lips. "You understand what I'm saying, don't you, Elara? You are the mistake he's trying to bury."

I looked at her, the woman who would be Dante's wife.

"You win," I said quietly.

"Of course." Isabella smirked. "It was never a competition. Did you really think an art restorer could compete with a mafia princess? That whole business with Marco? The Russian Roulette?" She let out a little laugh. "It was a test. My test. To see who he'd protect when the chips were down. He chose me." She leaned closer. "He served you up on a silver platter, darling. You never stood a chance."

So my life was on the line… just for a mafia princess to punish her fiancé's mistress.

And when faced with her, Dante would never choose me...

She turned to leave, then looked back.

"By the way, the tattoo artist said the original design was hard to cover completely. But Dante insisted. He wanted it gone."

Her smile turned even more vicious.

"He said he didn't want to leave any trace behind."

Didn't want to leave any trace behind.

Those words finally pierced through my numbness.

I looked at Dante on the stage, laughing and talking with his guests.

On his wrist, the altered tattoo glinted under the lights.

Our past, my existence—he had erased it all.

Isabella's high heel stepped on my foot.

"Remember this. Some things were never meant for someone as low as you."

"Someone as low as me?" I repeated the words, my voice soft.

The guests around us were watching, whispering.

"Isabella, I'm leaving tomorrow," I tried to explain. "The contract is—"

"Leaving?" Isabella cut me off, her voice sharp. "You think you can just walk away?"

She looked around, making sure she had an audience.

"Everyone, did you know? This Miss Elara actually thought she could compete with me, the real fiancée." She laughed mockingly. "A restorer who slept her way to the top, really thought she could become the Don's wife?"

The guests murmured, some shooting me looks of contempt.

"What's even funnier," Isabella went on, "is that she thought Dante would give up the alliance between our two families for her. What a joke!"

I felt their scornful gazes, but I was already numb.

"Are you finished?" I asked calmly.

"Not even close," Isabella's eyes flashed with malice. "I want everyone to know your real place in Dante's heart. You're worth less than a dog."

I turned and walked out of the ballroom.

No one stopped me.

Not even Dante.

Two hours later, I was in a taxi, watching the city lights blur past my window.

My suitcase was in the back seat, holding everything I owned.

A one-way ticket to California was in my hand.

"Almost there, miss," the driver said.

But the car suddenly turned down a deserted side street.

"This isn't the way to the airport," I said, suddenly on alert.

"Sorry, miss," the driver's voice went cold. "Someone wants to see you."

My heart pounded.

Was I being kidnapped?

The car stopped in front of an old apartment building.

Two men came out and opened my door.

"Get out," one of them said.

I was led into an apartment. It was simple, but clean.

A familiar figure was sitting in the living room.

Dante.

He was in a black shirt, looking exhausted.

"What are you doing here?" I asked coldly.

He stood up and walked toward me.

"Elara, we need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about." I turned to leave. "Let me go."

He grabbed me from behind, holding me just like he used to.

"I did what I had to do," he murmured into my hair. His voice was rough. It wasn't an apology. It was a fact.

I struggled against him.

"Let me go!"

"Listen to me." He tightened his arms. "Isabella suspects us. If I had protected you, she would have told her father, and the alliance would be off."

"So what?"

"You don't get it." He turned me to face him, his grip bruising. "This isn't about feelings. It's about power. If the alliance breaks, it means war. My men die. Their families suffer."

I looked into his eyes.

"So you chose to sacrifice me."

"Not sacrifice. Protect." He stroked my cheek. "I found your plane ticket. You're going to California?"

My heart sank.

"That's my freedom."

"No, Elara." He shook his head. "You can quit. But you can't leave me."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm sending you to the West Coast estate," his finger traced my lips, "just like we talked about. You'll wait for me there."

"I'm not going." I pushed him away. "I don't love you anymore. I'm leaving for good, to start a new life."

His expression instantly turned dangerous.

"You don't love me?" he advanced on me. "Then why did you cry during the Russian Roulette?"

"I was scared!"

"No. You cried because you felt betrayed by me." He pinned me against the wall. "If you didn't love me, why would you feel betrayed?"

I couldn't answer.

His mouth crashed down on mine, silencing my protests.

The familiar, demanding kiss shattered my resolve.

"Don't..." I pushed against him, but my body betrayed me.

He lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom.

"Dante, don't do this..."

But he didn't stop.

He laid me on the bed, his eyes blazing with possession.

"You're mine, Elara," he said as he started to undress me. "You always will be."

I tried to fight, but five years of history and the familiar touch left me weak.

When he entered me, I closed my eyes.

He was rough, as if releasing all his anger and fear.

I knew this wasn't love. It was ownership.

After, he carried me to the bathroom.

The warm water washed over us as he gently cleaned me.

"I love you, Elara," he whispered against my ear. "I can't lose you."

I didn't answer.

Back in bed, he took a pair of handcuffs from the nightstand.

"What are you doing?" I asked in a panic.

"Making sure you don't run." He cuffed my right wrist to the iron headboard. "I'm arranging a plane to take you to the West Coast tomorrow."

I yanked at the cuff, furious.

"You're insane! What if Isabella finds out we're still seeing each other?"

"She won't find out," he said, lying down beside me. "The estate is secluded. I'll tell her you've left the country."

"And if she does find out?"

His expression hardened.

"Then you'll have to be smart enough not to ruin the alliance between our families."

I couldn't believe my ears.

"So that's the plan? I'm your dirty little secret? Your mistress in a gilded cage?"

"It's the only way," he said, his voice final. "This is our reality now, Elara. There is no other choice."

"You bastard!" I slapped his chest with my free hand.

"It's reality." He grabbed my hand.

I looked at him, the man I once loved so deeply.

He wanted to keep me as his canary, locked in a cage, never to see the light of day.

"I hate you," I spat.

"I know." He kissed my forehead. "But hate is better than losing you."

He fell asleep quickly.

I lay beside him, my right hand chained.

But I made a vow. The moment I got to the West Coast, I would escape.

No matter the cost.

Or maybe... maybe Antonio could help me.

The next morning, Dante uncuffed me.

"The plane takes off at nine," he said. "Antonio will go with you."

Of course he would.

I said nothing.

Two hours later, I was on Dante's private jet.

I looked at Antonio sitting across from me, and I smiled.

Dante didn't know that Antonio was an undercover agent for the rival Torrino family.

When I had decided to leave for good, he had approached me.

He had promised he could help me disappear with a new identity, and that I could continue my work under their protection.

It was time for him to make good on that promise.

In an hour, Dante would get the news.

Fiery crash. No survivors.

I looked out the window of a different plane, heading in a different direction.

And for the first time in months, I smiled.

A real smile.

The debt was paid.