Change of plans.
I have to go.
Staying here, pretending everything’s fine while my brain replays that CCTV footage on a loop is not happening. I won’t be able to even look at Dante without the image of him interacting with the man who killed my father burning behind my eyes.
Maybe he knew, maybe he didn’t. But I can’t stay here waiting for answers I’m not even sure he’ll give me.
I start packing.
I toss a few days’ worth of clothes into a duffel along with the USB drive and some personal essentials.
It’s almost midnight, the mansion hushed and still. I crack open my suite door, peering out into the hallway. No guards. No movement. Just the soft glow of a wall sconce and the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears.
I creep down the hall, constantly looking over my shoulder. There’s a stairwell near the west wing that leads to a side entrance by the garage. If I can make it there, I’m golden. My plan is to head straight to Halsey’s. She’s out of town, but I’ve got her keypad combo.
At the top of the stairs, I pause. No voices. No footsteps. Just the thrum of adrenaline pumping through my veins.
I press a hand to my stomach. Just hang tight, little one. We’re almost free.
Halfway down the staircase, I hear a muffled sniffling coming from the landing below. My first instinct is to freeze then backtrack. But curiosity—or stupidity—wins out. I crane my neck and peer around the banister. My stomach twists when I see Sarah, of all people, sitting on the steps, hugging her knees, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.
I hesitate, torn between ignoring her and sneaking out. But she looks so broken. With a resigned sigh, I adjust my bag and step around the corner.
“Sarah?” I whisper. “Are you okay?”
She jumps, nearly tumbling off the step, eyes wide and puffy. “Eva?” She sniffles, quickly wiping her face with the back of her hand. “What the hell are you doing sneaking around this late?”
I shift uncomfortably. “I could ask you the same.” I glance at her tear-streaked cheeks, guilt warring with urgency. “You’ve been crying.”
She laughs humorlessly. “Brilliant observation. Next you’ll ask if I’m upset.” Her voice is shaky, undercutting the sarcasm. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect anyone to see me like this.”
I bite my lip, torn between wanting to flee and wanting to help. “What’s going on?”
Sarah looks away, fiddling with the belt of her silky robe. “It’s stupid,” she mumbles. “This marriage… it’s not what I signed up for.”
I blink, recalling how she clings to Luca like a prized possession. “What changed?”
She lets out a hollow laugh. “What didn’t change? The second the ring was on my finger, Linda swooped in, determined to keep Luca under her control. I’m basically living with my mother-in-law, who treats me like an accessory, and a husband who doesn’t even—” Her voice cracks. “He barely looks at me unless he’s showing me off to some friend of the family or business associate.”
A pang of sympathy hits me. I know Sarah’s been catty, but it’s not hard to see how Linda dominates everything in her life.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “That must be difficult to deal with.”
Sarah sniffles, brushing her hair from her face. “I feel like a third wheel—to his mother. She’s forcing being a ‘Bellacino heir’ down his throat and it’s consuming him. So much so that he and his mom are practically one unit. I feel like nothing more than the pretty blonde on the side.” She meets my gaze, her voice trembling. “I was such a fool.”
I shift my weight, the bag digging into my shoulder. “Look, Sarah, that sucks. I won’t lie. Luca and Linda’s relationship has always been intense.” Understatement of the century. “But you’re not a fool for wanting to be a part of the family. People do crazy things when they’re in love.”
Her eyes glisten. “Luca’s a glorified momma’s boy. I guess I thought being married and becoming his wife would elevate me somehow, make me his number one. But Linda’s overshadowing me at every turn.” She crosses her arms defensively. “Why am I even telling you this?”
I offer a wry smile. “Because I happen to be sneaking out at the same time you’re having a meltdown, I guess.” My heart clenches. “Anyway, you’re not worthless, Sarah. Linda’s just… Linda. She overshadowed me too, tried to at least. You can’t let her.”
Sarah gives a shaky nod, then looks at my duffel, realization dawning in her eyes. “Wait, you’re leaving?” She says it as if she just realized what I meant by “sneaking out.”
I tense, searching her face. “Yeah. I’ve got some stuff to handle elsewhere. It’s complicated.” I don’t elaborate any further.
“Does Dante know? Where are you going?” She stands and hugs herself, wrapping the robe tight around her.
I blow out a breath. “It’s better if no one knows. Honestly, I just need some space to figure things out. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone. Especially Luca or Linda. They’d blow it out of proportion.” My tone is sharper than I intend but my nerves are shot.
Sarah’s lips twist, bitterness creeping back in. “Don’t worry, I’m not Linda’s messenger. Besides, she’s too busy controlling Luca to care what I do or say. He’s more interested in you than me—he’s made that painfully obvious. Why would I help them now?”
Another pang of guilt tugs at me. “I’m sorry about that. I never meant—”
She cuts me off with a dismissive wave. “Save it. You can’t control who Luca fixates on. Apparently, he’s intrigued by you simply because his father has you.” She gives a short, humorless laugh. “Men. They’re all idiots.”
I can’t argue with that. “So you won’t say anything?”
She shakes her head, eyes shadowed with her own sorrow. “No. Not to them, anyway. I’m not that vindictive.”
Relief floods through me. “Thank you,” I whisper, pressing a hand to my chest. “I appreciate it.”
Sarah gives a weak smile before turning away. “Good luck with… whatever. Believe it or not, I don’t hate you. I just hate my life right now.”
I bite my lip then gently squeeze her arm. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
She nods, lips pursed as she puts on a brave face. “I’ll be fine.” She looks to my belly, a flicker of something—envy, sadness, regret—crossing her features. She heads up the stairs, disappearing down the corridor without saying another word.
Quietly, I continue downward, my footsteps feather-light. The mansion is eerily silent at this hour. I can’t help imagining Linda or Luca jumping out from a hidden doorway, demanding to know what I’m up to, but no one appears.
At the side entrance, I pause, listening for any sign of movement. Nothing. Just the hushed night air and my own hammering pulse. With a final breath, I push open the door and slip outside.
The crisp night air hits me like a shock. I glance around, my breath misting under a faint moon. A row of cars is parked in a small lot next to the garage—Dante’s staff vehicles. I thought about taking one of his cars parked in the garage—the keys are on the wall—but I know he has GPS trackers on all of them and he’ll quickly track me down. I hurry toward the property’s gates. If they’re locked, I’ll climb over. I’m determined, and my adrenaline is working overtime.
Luck is with me. The gate stands slightly ajar, perhaps left open by a guard or caretaker. I slip through, my heart racing. The road beyond is dark and quiet, a passing car only every few minutes. I fish my phone out, checking the time. It’s half past midnight.
Perfect.
I call for an Uber, shooting a nervous glance over my shoulder at the looming silhouette of the mansion. Anxiety curdles in my gut. The phone’s app pings that a driver is five minutes away.
The minutes crawl as I wait at the side of the road. Every sound—rustling leaves, a distant dog bark—makes me jump. I keep expecting one of Dante’s guards to walk up, or for Linda to come out screeching into the night. But nothing happens. The only drama is inside my own head, swirling with fear and heartbreak.
Finally, headlights crest the bend. A small, dark blue Nissan pulls up, the driver leaning out of the window.
“You Eva?”
I nod, throwing my bag in the back seat and sliding in after it. The driver glances at me in the rearview mirror, a curious expression on his face. I give him a tight smile as I say, “West 50th and 9th please.”
Relief bleeds into my muscles as he pulls away from the curb. I did it. I left. No drama, no shouting, no confrontation.
I stare out the window as the car meanders through the dark empty streets, each passing streetlamp illuminating suburban calm. My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I can’t bear to check it, so I power it off, letting the screen go dark.
The driver tries small talk. I respond with one-syllable answers until he gives up, leaving me to my tornado of thoughts. I rest a hand on my abdomen. It’s you and me now, baby. We’ll figure this out. We’ll find out the truth about your father—whether he’s a monster or just a pawn in a twisted game. And if he’s guilty… God, I can’t even stomach the thought.
My eyes burn with unshed tears, but I blink them back, pressing my palm harder against my belly. I’ll keep you safe, no matter what.
The Nissan merges onto another road, neon signs glowing in the distance. Soon, Halsey’s neighborhood looms, the familiar old brownstones and late-night diners giving me a spark of comfort. The driver pulls up to the curb. I grab my bag and step out, thanking him quietly.
The building’s lobby is dim, a single overhead light buzzing. I enter the code and the door buzzes, granting me access. My footsteps echo in the quiet stairwell as I climb the two flights to Halsey’s floor. The lingering smell of someone’s late night dinner hangs in the air. It feels almost normal, like I belong here.
In front of her door, I fish out the spare key from under a potted plant. A wave of guilty relief hits me. I’m safe here, at least temporarily. I’ll be able to plan my next steps in peace and quiet.
I unlock the door and step inside the dark apartment, flipping a lamp on. The living room is cozy and minimal, Halsey’s collection of quirky art prints dotting the walls. My shoulders slump with exhaustion. Setting my duffel down, I kick off my sneakers.
I brace a hand on the couch, struggling to keep the tears at bay.
Taking a shaky breath, I grab a blanket off the back of the sofa and wrap it around me, sinking into a worn armchair.
Tonight, I need some rest.
Tomorrow, the real fight begins.
