Rosabella's POV

"Impossible." Reginald rejected Felicia's idea without a second thought. "I will not let the world think Rosabella did anything wrong."

Felicia froze, a flicker of rage in her eyes.

But I had already pulled out my phone and dialed our family lawyer.

"Marcus, I need you to release a statement immediately." My voice was calm. "Announce that the marriage between Reginald Falcone and myself is null and void, effective today."

"What?" Reginald spun to face me. "Rosabella, what are you doing?"

"Solving the problem," I continued to the lawyer. "Send it to all media outlets within the hour."

"Rosabella!" Reginald tried to grab my phone.

But I had already hung up.

"It's the best solution," I said, looking at him. "Isn't it?"

Reginald's face turned to stone.

"I didn't agree to—"

Felicia was secretly gloating, but on the surface, she was still dabbing at her tears.

"Thank you, sister! You're so good to me!"

"Let's go." I picked up Leo. "It's time to go home."

Reginald followed us, his face grim. The elevator ride down was thick with tension.

"Mama," Leo whispered in my arms. "Are you going to leave?"

"Yes."

"Can... can I come find you?"

I didn't answer.

Because I didn't know the answer.

The elevator doors opened, and we walked out of the Falcone Group tower.

The Chicago evening was beautiful. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and red.

Just then, a motorcycle sped toward us from down the street.

The engine screamed. It was moving fast.

My gut told me something was wrong.

"Watch out!"

I clutched Leo, trying to get out of the way.

But it was too late. The rider raised a silenced pistol.

Three silenced pops. Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.

In a single, fluid motion—an instinct I'd seen a hundred times—Reginald moved. He didn't shield me. He threw himself in front of Felicia and Leo.

His body became their wall.

And a bullet tore a line of fire across my shoulder.

Reginald's arm was hit, too. Blood bloomed on his sleeve.

My left shoulder also took a hit, blood soaking my dress.

But Felicia was completely untouched. Reginald had protected her perfectly.

The motorcycle vanished into traffic, leaving me gritting my teeth in pain, and Reginald, his face a mask of fury.

"Rosabella!" Reginald turned to check my wounds. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said through clenched teeth. "What about Leo?"

"I'm here, Mama." Leo was hiding in Felicia's arms, his face pale with fright.

"Quick, to the clinic," Reginald said, dialing the family's private doctor.

...

An hour later, at the family's private clinic.

The doctor was treating our wounds.

"The bullets just grazed you. No bones were hit," the doctor said. "But you'll need to rest and recover."

Reginald sat by my bed.

"I'm sorry." He took my hand. "I didn't protect you."

"You protected who you needed to," I said, my voice devoid of all emotion. "That's what matters."

Reginald's face darkened.

"Rosabella, I... a few of the New York families have been targeting us. For your safety..." He cut himself off, his tone becoming formal. "I'm sending you to the safe house in Switzerland for a while."

"You always wanted to go there, right?" he continued. "Lakes, mountains. It's a good place to recover."

I looked at him. This man could always find a noble reason for his selfish decisions.

"Okay," I agreed easily.

Reginald visibly relaxed.

"You're so understanding, Rosabella." He kissed my forehead. "When you get back, our family of three can finally live a good life."

A family of three?

Didn't he mean him and Felicia?

That night, after Reginald left, I got a text.

It was from Felicia.

[Enjoy Switzerland. I hear it's a beautiful place to die. A fitting end for a fallen princess.]

[Your parents. Your son. Your man. They're all mine now. Everything you ever had belongs to me.]

So that was it. Getting me out of the way for Felicia.

I laughed coldly, deleted the message, and checked the time.

Eleven P.M. The exact day I was supposed to leave.

I got up and quietly slipped out of the clinic.

The manor was dark and silent. Everyone was asleep.

I went to my room, grabbed the bag I had already packed, and my burner phone.

It was time to go.

I took one last look at the room.

This place was once my safe harbor. Now it was just a gilded cage.

I crept downstairs, called a car, and headed for the airport.

In the rearview mirror, the lights of the manor grew smaller.

Until they disappeared completely.

At three in the morning, I boarded a one-way flight to Syria.

Below me, the lights of Chicago glittered like a web of broken glass, then vanished into the clouds.

I was flying into a warzone.

But for the first time in my life, I was finally, truly free.