Dante Vitiello POV

I didn't kill her immediately.

A bullet would have been too easy. A mercy she didn't deserve.

I needed to see the performance through to the end.

I sat shadowed in the VIP box at the underground auction house, the same wretched place where I had bought the sapphire necklace for Mia weeks ago.

The same place where I had cruelly cast Serena aside.

The memory hit me with the force of a physical blow, a phantom ache radiating through my chest that no amount of whiskey could numb.

Nonna sat beside me.

She was giddy, practically vibrating with excitement.

Today, there was a rare item up for bid: a "Long Life Lock" from the Qing Dynasty, made of pure gold and blessed by monks.

"We must acquire it for the child, Dante," she said, clutching my arm with frail, desperate strength. "To ensure his health."

I stared at the stage below, my eyes cold.

Mia was down there, ensconced in a private booth near the front.

She wasn't alone.

Mr. Gu was slipping into her booth like a snake sliding into its den.

I had arranged for the security cameras in their booth to feed directly to my tablet.

I watched the screen resting in my lap.

Mia was crying, but her face was twisted with rage, not sorrow.

"Where is the money?" she hissed at Gu.

"Soon," Gu said, reaching out to caress her stomach. "My son will be the heir to the Vitiello empire. We will own them from the inside."

Nonna leaned over to look at the catalog.

"Look, Dante! Item 45. It's beautiful."

I looked at Nonna.

The woman who had slapped Serena.

The woman who had branded my wife barren.

"Do you love the baby, Nonna?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.

"Of course! He is our blood."

I handed her the tablet.

"Watch."

She frowned, adjusting her reading glasses.

She watched the screen.

I placed the earbud in her ear so she could hear every word.

"I drugged Dante that night ten years ago, but he passed out before we could do anything," Mia's voice sneered through the audio. "He never touched me. But he's so stupid, he believes anything."

"And the avalanche?" Gu asked.

"Serena didn't poison me. I just wanted her gone. I hope she froze to death."

Nonna's face turned the color of ash.

She gasped, clutching her chest as if her heart were failing.

"No... no..."

She looked at me, her eyes wide with dawning horror.

"Dante... what have we done?"

"We?" I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "No, Nonna. You wanted an heir. I gave you exactly what you asked for. A monster."

I stood up.

I walked to the railing of the balcony.

Below me, the auctioneer was announcing the Long Life Lock.

"Bidding starts at one million."

Mia raised her paddle.

She was spending my money.

She was smiling at Gu, triumphant.

I pulled my gun from its holster.

The sound of the slide racking back echoed through the silent hall like a crack of thunder.

Heads turned.

Mia looked up.

She saw me.

She saw the look on my face.

It wasn't the look of a husband.

It was the look of the Capo dei Capi-the Boss of Bosses.

"Dante?" she faltered.

I aimed.

Not at her.

At the Long Life Lock on the podium.

Bang.

The gold ornament shattered into a thousand useless fragments.

The crowd screamed.

Security guards drew their weapons, but when they saw it was me, they lowered them instantly.

"Bring them to me," I ordered my soldiers, pointing at the booth.

Mia tried to run.

Gu tried to fight.

My men dragged them out, throwing them onto the center stage like sacks of garbage.

I walked down the stairs, slow and steady.

The room parted for me like the Red Sea.

I stepped onto the stage.

Mia was sobbing, crawling toward me.

"Dante, please! He forced me! It's a lie!"

I looked down at her.

I looked at the rosary on her wrist.

My rosary.

"Take it off," I said.

She fumbled with the clasp, her hands shaking so hard she couldn't undo it.

I ripped it from her wrist.

Beads scattered across the floor, mixing with the gold shards of the broken lock.

"Where is she?" I asked.

"Who?" Mia wept.

"My wife."

"She left you!" Mia screamed, her mask finally falling off, revealing the rat beneath. "She's gone, Dante! She hates you! She's never coming back!"

I pistol-whipped Mr. Gu before he could speak.

He collapsed, blood pooling on the stage.

I turned to my Capo.

"Take them to the warehouse," I said. "Keep them alive. I want them to feel every second of what comes next."

I turned and walked out of the auction house.

I walked into the night air.

I pulled my phone out.

I dialed Serena's number.

The number you have dialed is disconnected.

I dialed it again.

And again.

Disconnected.

Gone.

I looked at the city skyline.

It was vast.

It was empty.

"Find her," I whispered to the darkness.

"Burn the whole world down if you have to."

"Just find her."

Serena Moretti POV

Seattle was the antithesis of New York.

New York was a cage of concrete, screaming sirens, and the metallic taste of blood disguised as old money.

Seattle, by contrast, was a world of gray skies and quiet solitude, smelling faintly of petrichor and roasted coffee beans.

It was the perfect place to disappear.

I ran a cloth over the counter of the small café I had leased using the cash liquidated from my jewelry sales.

The hand-painted sign above the door read The Palette.

It was small. It was humble. And for the first time in my life, it was mine.

Here, I wasn't Serena Vitiello.

I wasn't the barren, discarded wife of a Don.

I was just Serena.

A bell chimed overhead as the door pushed open, ushering in a gust of damp, chilling wind.

A man walked in.

He was nothing like the men I was accustomed to. He didn't wear a three-piece Italian suit that cost more than a mid-range car, nor did he carry the air of violence that usually accompanied such wealth.

Instead, he wore a paint-splattered flannel shirt and worn-out jeans that clung loosely to his frame. His hair was a messy shade of brown, darkened by the drizzle.

He looked soft.

Safe.

"We're not open yet," I said, my voice instinctively sharpening into a shield.

"I know," he replied. He offered a smile that actually reached his eyes-crinkling the corners in a way that felt disarmingly genuine. "I just saw the cat."

"The cat?"

I frowned and walked around the counter.

He pointed a calloused finger toward the window ledge outside.

A scrawny, bedraggled calico kitten was shivering violently against the glass, desperately trying to absorb the warmth radiating from inside.

It looked exactly how I felt.

Discarded.

Cold.

Desperate to find a way in.

I unlocked the door immediately.

The man knelt down, extending a hand slowly, telegraphing his movements.

He didn't grab.

He waited.

Unlike Dante, who took whatever he desired without asking, this man waited for permission.

"Here, little one," he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

The cat hesitated, trembling, before finally bumping its wet head against his fingers.

He scooped the creature up and brought it inside, shielding it from the wind with his body.

"Do you have a towel?" he asked.

I grabbed a clean dishrag from the back stack.

We dried the kitten together, working in a silent rhythm.

Then, our hands brushed.

I flinched, jerking my hand back as if his skin were a branding iron.

He noticed.

He didn't ask.

He simply shifted his position, stepping back to give me the physical space I clearly needed.

"I'm Liam, by the way," he said softly, keeping his focus entirely on the cat to make me feel less scrutinized. "I have the studio upstairs. I smell the coffee every morning and it's absolute torture that you aren't open yet."

"I'm..." I hesitated, the old name dying on my tongue. "Lena."

"Nice to meet you, Lena. And who is this?"

He looked down at the cat.

I looked at the tiny creature, battered by the storm but finally safe.

"Lucky," I whispered.

Liam smiled at me.

It was a gentle look, completely free of expectation or demand.

"Lucky," he repeated, testing the weight of the word. "It fits."

He placed his hand flat on the counter.

The cat tentatively placed a paw on his hand.

I watched them, feeling a strange, unfamiliar sensation unfurling in my chest.

It wasn't fear.

It wasn't pain.

It was the quiet hum of a heart starting to beat again.