BANG!

A gunshot. The whole place erupted in panic.

People scattered, screaming. Marco and the other bodyguards immediately formed a wall around me.

A few minutes later, the chaos was under control.

Lorenzo’s men had a few gunmen pinned to the floor.

“Serpente family,” Marco reported to Lorenzo. “They were aiming for you. Looks like just a warning shot.”

Lorenzo’s face was dark, but his eyes shot straight to the stage.

I followed his gaze.

Vanessa was a crumpled heap on the floor. Her expensive red dress was torn, revealing a long, pale slash of thigh.

There were scrapes on her hands and cheek, beading with blood. She looked pathetic. Fragile. A damsel in distress.

“My… my face…” she stammered, touching her cheek, her eyes wild. “Lorenzo, I can't see... I'm going to faint...”

On pure instinct, Lorenzo pushed through the crowd and rushed onto the stage.

He knelt, dabbing at the scratch on her face with his own silk pocket square.

"Don't be scared. It's just a scratch," he said, his voice tight with an urgency I'd never heard before.

The whispers around me were like needles.

“That’s Vanessa, isn't it? I heard Don Lorenzo pissed off the Serpentes to get her that magazine cover.”

“Exactly. The Serpentes swore they’d make her pay. Tonight was probably for her.”

It hit me all at once.

Tonight's attack wasn't for Lorenzo, and it wasn't even for me.

It was for the woman in his arms.

And I was just an innocent bystander, caught in their dirty affair.

Lorenzo’s eyes shot to me, a messy mix of guilt and desperation. “Elena, Vanessa is an asset. A scratch on her face is a million-dollar liability. She's hysterical. I have to get her to a private clinic right now.”

"It’s fine," I said, my smile a brittle mask. "I can get home myself."

Lorenzo hesitated for a second. "Marco, you take Elena home."

Then he bent down and scooped Vanessa into his arms.

“Lorenzo…” Vanessa whimpered, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest.

They rushed out of the auction house, right in front of me, in front of everyone.

This time, Lorenzo didn't even bother to put on an act.

“Ma’am, let’s go.” Marco came over to me. He had just finished a call, and his face was grim. “The Boss ordered us to evacuate through Exit C. He said the Serpentes might be at the main entrance. This route is supposedly safer.”

I laughed coldly to myself.

So he took his A-team and the armored car to save his mistress, while leaving his wife with a "supposedly safer" route.

I nodded numbly and followed Marco toward Exit C.

But we never made it.

Just as we reached the exit, several black sedans screeched to a halt, blocking our way. A dozen men with guns jumped out and immediately opened fire on us.

“Dammit! It’s a setup!” Marco roared, shoving me against the wall to shield me with his own body while firing back. He screamed into his radio, “Requesting backup! We're hit at Exit C!”

All that came back was static, then Lorenzo's frantic voice barking orders: “...They’re on us! Hold the line!”

He didn't even say my name.

The gunfire got heavier. We were completely suppressed, with no way out.

“Ma’am, we're sitting ducks here!” Marco had sweat pouring down his forehead. He glanced at the stream of traffic on the street not far away, a flash of resolve in his eyes.

He shoved me toward a hidden side door that led to a back alley.

“Ma’am, the car can't get through! Go this way, now!” He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and shoved it into my hand. “Get to the street, hail a cab, and go to the safe house! Go! We’ll hold them off!”

I froze.

The wife of Don Moretti. Reduced to hailing a goddamn cab in the middle of a war he started for his whore.

What a fucking joke.

“Ma’am!” Marco yelled when he saw I wasn't moving. “Go!”

He used his body to block a spray of incoming bullets and let out a grunt.

I saw blood blooming on the back of his jacket. I looked at the chaos—a war that had nothing to do with me—and felt the last spark of hope inside me die.

I didn't hesitate again. I ran into the alley.

The streetlights blurred. I threw myself in front of a taxi.

“Where to?” the driver asked, terrified by my pale face and the gunshots behind me.

I wasn't going to any safe house.

"Brooklyn," I told him.

The taxi melted into the night, and I fell into an exhausted sleep.

Half an hour later, my phone buzzed and woke me up.

Another Instagram notification.

I opened it. My heart stopped.

Vanessa had posted a new picture.

Lorenzo was carefully dabbing ointment on her hand. His expression was focused, tender.

Just like he used to look when he took care of my wounds after I was attacked.

Caption: "His touch is even softer than I dreamed."

I scrolled down and saw a video.

They were in a private jet. Lorenzo was holding her, looking out at snow-capped mountains and the northern lights.

"A reward for my injured little kitten," Lorenzo's voice said in the video.

"A dream come true!" Vanessa giggled.

I couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

I covered my mouth and cried silently.

I knew opening my phone would just show me more of his betrayal, but I couldn't stop looking.

It was like I needed this pain to finally let go.

The next second, the taxi screeched to a halt.

My body lurched forward. The seatbelt dug into my stomach, sending a sharp pain through me.

Black sedans boxed us in.

Men in dark suits got out. On their chests was the silver snake crest of the Serpente family.

The leader rapped the window with the butt of his pistol. His eyes scanned me like I was cargo. "Elena Moretti," he grunted. "You're coming with us."

The driver's teeth were chattering.

I knew I had no choice. If they caught me, my fate would be worse than death.

Lorenzo wasn't coming to save me. Not this time.

The moment they pulled the door open, I threw all my weight against it, shoving it into one of them. Then I turned and ran, sprinting for the bridge up ahead.

"Get her!"

The angry shouts and footsteps behind me were a death drum.

My lungs were on fire. Every step tore at my wound.

I didn't care.

Pain is good. Pain keeps me awake.

The headlights on the bridge blinded me. I grabbed the railing. They were right behind me.

Nowhere to run.

A man sneered, reaching for me. "Don Lorenzo's woman. Nothing special after all."

I looked down at the dark, cold water below.

Yes. Nothing special. So let it all end.

I gave my pursuers one last, defiant smile, swung myself over the railing, and plunged into the darkness below.

The icy water swallowed me whole. The cold shot from my limbs straight to my heart.

I couldn't breathe, but I felt a strange sense of peace.

Look, Lorenzo. Your little bird finally broke her own wings.

Does that make me free?

...

But reality let me down again.

When I woke up, it was the same hospital room.

White ceiling, smell of antiseptic.

"You're awake," a nurse said, coming over. "You need to be more careful. You just had a miscarriage, you can't be running around."

Miscarriage.

I glanced at the calendar on the wall. Today was my wedding anniversary with Lorenzo.

It was also the day I was leaving.

"There's no time." I struggled to sit up. "I'm checking out."

"You need to be observed—"

"I said I'm checking out."

I got dressed and hurried out.

The nurse followed me. "Mrs. Moretti, you can't just—"

Around the corner of the hallway, I saw a familiar sight.

Lorenzo was with Vanessa, walking out of a doctor's office.

"You're making a big deal out of nothing," Vanessa said, standing on her toes to give Lorenzo a quick kiss. "What's a little scratch on my face?"

Lorenzo turned and saw me.

He pushed Vanessa away and rushed over.

"Elena? What are you doing here?" Panic flashed in his eyes. "Is something wrong with the baby?"

The nurse started to speak. "Mrs. Moretti's baby—"

"The baby's fine," I cut her off, my voice like steel. "Just a routine check-up."

Lorenzo breathed a sigh of relief.

"More family business to take care of?" I asked with an understanding smile. "You should go."

Lorenzo pulled me into a hug, whispering in my ear. "Elena, the most important thing during pregnancy is to stay happy. I'll be home as soon as I'm done."

"Okay," I nodded, hugging him back.

I breathed him in one last time. A final memory. A final goodbye.

There was nothing left to say.

Back home, I packed my bags.

Then I took out a beautiful gift box and put a small note on it:

"Happy Anniversary."

Inside the box, I placed three things:

The divorce papers.

The screenshots from Vanessa's social media.

And the report from my miscarriage surgery.

I walked out of the house that used to be my home, pulling my suitcase behind me.

At the airport, I threw out my SIM card.

"Flight EL012 is now boarding."

The announcement echoed through the terminal.

I took one last look at the New York skyline.

Lorenzo. Goodbye for good.