By the time the city lights came alive across Manhattan, dinner was being served at the Vitale estate.

Sophia rested a hand lightly over her stomach, her tone soft, almost concerned.

“Do you think Elena is upset?” she asked gently.

“Maybe I overstepped. It’s already dark, and she still hasn’t come back.”

Donna Victoria set her glass down with a sharp sound.

“She’s got nerve,” she said coldly.

“Making me wait at the table?”

Her expression hardened.

“She can’t give this family a child, and she can’t even handle the basics. What exactly is she good for?”

Then she turned to Enzo.

“Good thing I made you take responsibility for both sides,” she said.

“Otherwise, this family would be left without an heir.”

Her gaze shifted to Sophia, softening.

“At least she knows how to deliver.”

A faint, dismissive smile followed.

“Give it time—she’ll give us more. Unlike someone who’s been nothing but a wasted investment.”

Sophia quickly leaned in, soothing her.

“Don’t worry,” she said sweetly.

“I’ll give you grandchildren. Strong ones. Like Enzo.”

That earned a pleased reaction.

But Enzo wasn’t paying attention.

“Did anyone check the dock?” he asked sharply.

“Why isn’t the yacht back? Has she returned?”

The men he had sent out shook their heads.

No one had answers.

Donna Victoria let out a quiet scoff.

“If she doesn’t come back tonight, have her sign the separation papers.”

But Enzo didn’t respond.

Something felt wrong.

Since the day we married, I had never stayed out overnight.

Not once.

“Send more men,” he said finally.

“Station them at the docks. I want updates immediately.”

Sophia covered her mouth lightly with a handkerchief.

“You don’t think she’s upset about the baby, do you?” she asked.

“Maybe she just wanted to get back at you.”

Enzo didn’t answer.

His gaze lingered on her—

on the tailored outfit she wore,

on the ring on her finger,

on the necklace resting against her collarbone.

All of it familiar.

All of it mine.

“Where did you get that necklace?” he asked suddenly.

Sophia touched it lightly.

“It was in the safe,” she said.

“When Elena moved out, she left everything behind. Boxes of it.”

Everything.

That word settled heavily.

Something in Enzo’s expression shifted.

Why would she leave it all?

Why walk away without taking anything?

The answer came sooner than anyone expected.

A man rushed in, face pale, breath uneven.

“Boss… something’s happened.”

A beat.

“The yacht went up beyond the inlet.”

Silence fell over the room.

“No survivors,” he added, voice shaking.

“The whole vessel went down.”

Enzo’s face drained of color.

Sophia let out a sharp scream.

Donna Victoria’s cigar slipped from her hand, burning where it fell.

Enzo moved first. Fast. Uncontrolled. “Get the chopper!” he roared. “Lock the river down!”

His voice cracked, raw and violent.

“I want her found. Alive or dead!”

What he didn’t know— was that long before the explosion, a black speedboat had already pulled alongside the yacht.

No markings. No lights.

Just timing.

I was gone before the fire ever touched the water. Marco and my father’s men took me off that boat.

Clean. Precise. Final.

Out on the water, Marco handed me a glass of bourbon. I took it without a word. Behind us, flames swallowed what remained of the yacht. Ahead, the shoreline lights faded into distance.

I didn’t look back.

I took a slow sip.

Days later, a document arrived at the estate.

No explanation. No negotiation.

Just a single line:

From this day forward, Elena Vitale is considered dead.Any attempt to search for her will be treated as provocation.

There was no name beneath it. Only a seal. Old and Recognizable.

A family older than the Vitales. Quieter.

And far more dangerous.

And Enzo— found himself back where it had all begun.

On his knees. On the stone driveway where he once swore everything to me.

This time, no one came to help him up.