The moment I returned to the estate, I went to the study and took out the deed to the coastal house Lorenzo had built for me.

Then I called a private property broker.

“I’d like to list an estate for sale.”

The next morning, I was still half asleep when Lorenzo came back.

Rain clung to his coat. He walked into the room without stopping to change and came straight to my bed, his expression tight with alarm.

“Adela,” he said, “did you put our estate on the market?”

The house had been registered in my name. He would never have known unless he had gone to the broker himself.

I sat up and looked at him.

“You went to the broker?”

He paused for only a second.

“A friend wanted a place on the coast,” he said. “He asked me to take a look.”

A friend. Or Vera.

Apparently her little “wedding gift” had pleased him enough that he was already helping her find somewhere new to live.

I kept my voice level.

“Yes. I need money.”

The assisted-death service had quoted me a sum so high it would have frightened anyone else.

I thought one heart was worth the price.

Relief crossed his face so quickly it made me sick.

“I thought maybe you’d changed your mind about the house,” he said. “I barely slept. I kept thinking you must hate it.”

His eyes were bloodshot. There were bruised shadows under them that might once have moved me.

Then he leaned closer, and I saw the marks on his neck.

Faint bruises. Fresh.

He took my hand and kissed my fingers one by one.

“I already had it pulled off the market,” he said. “That house is ours. I built it for you. If you ever need money, go straight to the family comptroller.”

Then he placed a call in front of me.

“From now on, if my wife asks for funds, no one questions it. No reports. No approval.”

When he hung up, he looked at me with the tenderness of a devoted husband.

“Do you know how frightened I was? I thought you were selling it because you didn’t want to marry me.”

Lorenzo.

How could anyone lie so beautifully?

How could a man leave another woman’s bed and still come home wearing a face like that?

I lowered my eyes before he could read anything in them.

“I need the money because I want to buy you a wedding gift.”

That brought him back to life at once.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, bright and pleased. “Then I’ll wait for my surprise.”

I smiled too.

I hoped he would.

Over the next few days, he barely came home.

Vera, on the other hand, never stopped sending messages.

She seemed determined to show me exactly what he was doing whenever he claimed he was busy. The photos became bolder. The videos crueler. In one clip, the black Rolls-Royce Phantom chosen as the lead car in our wedding convoy sat in a private garage, the leather back seat soaked through. The camera dipped lower, catching torn foil wrappers scattered across the floor.

Vera’s voice came through the speaker, smug and intimate.

“I had no idea a man could have this much appetite. He kept me in the car so long I lost count of the positions.”

I never replied.

I spent those days quietly erasing myself from the house instead. Documents. Jewelry. Clothes. Old notebooks. Anything that could prove I had once lived there. If I was going to disappear, I wanted to do it properly.

Three days before the wedding, the invoice from the assisted-death service arrived.

The price was obscene, but the confidentiality agreement was airtight. That mattered more. If Lorenzo ever learned I meant to vanish by letting the world believe I was dead, he would never let me go.

The sale of the estate had not cleared yet, so I went to the woman who handled Lorenzo’s private accounts.

She took the invoice, scanned it, and stopped when she reached the payee.

[Final Passage]

For the first time, her expression shifted.

She looked up at me, and I could tell she wanted to ask a question.

In the end, she said nothing.

Perhaps the comptroller remembered Lorenzo’s standing orders, because in the end she asked nothing. She only approved the transfer and handed the invoice back to me.

I had barely reached the main hall when my phone rang.

It was the agency.

“Ms. Adela, your reservation has been confirmed. Once the procedure is complete, your remains will be cremated according to your instructions, and your ashes will be scattered over the Atlantic. We’ll also arrange pickup on arrival. Please confirm your flight number.”

I had just opened my mouth to answer when a familiar voice sounded behind me.

“What flight?”

I turned and saw Lorenzo standing a few steps away, his face changed so suddenly it made my chest tighten.

I ended the call at once.

He was already crossing the hall. His hand closed around my wrist.

“Where are you going?”

I looked at him and kept my face still.

“I was checking routes for our honeymoon.”

He stared at me for a moment, then visibly relaxed.

“That’s the surprise you meant?”

He bent and kissed my temple. “You should leave that to me. Your heart can’t handle too much strain. I’ll take care of the wedding. All you need to do is show up looking beautiful.”

Then, quieter, he added, “If something is wrong, tell me. Don’t ever disappear on me, Adela. If I couldn’t find you, it would destroy me.”

Maybe he sensed something anyway, because he refused to leave my side after that. He canceled meetings and stayed with me all afternoon.

At dinner, he watched me constantly. If I touched my glass, he lifted it for me. If my eyes lingered on something on the menu, he had it ordered. To anyone else, he would have looked devoted.

Then a bright voice cut across the room.

“What a coincidence.”

I looked up.

Vera was standing near the entrance with a handsome man on her arm. The moment Lorenzo saw them, he went still.

His face hardened before he could hide it.

“Who is he?” he asked.

The question came out too fast, too sharp.

A second later, he smoothed his expression. “An old friend?”

Vera smiled. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

Something dark crossed Lorenzo’s face. Vera greeted us politely, then let the man lead her to another table.

After that, Lorenzo barely listened to anything I said. He kept checking his phone and glancing across the room. At last he set down his napkin.

“There’s a family matter I need to deal with,” he said. “Eat without me. I’ll be back.”

Of course he would.

I nodded and watched him leave. Vera rose a few seconds later and followed him out.

Once they were gone, I opened the message she had sent me.

It was an audio file.

I pressed play.

“So this is how it is?” Vera’s voice came first, low and displeased. “You said once the wedding was over, you’d cut me off.”

There was the sound of fabric dragging, a rough breath, the soft friction of bodies pressed too close.

Then Lorenzo’s voice, darker than before.

“Be quiet.”

A pause.

“Don’t let another man touch you again.”

Vera laughed softly. “Of course, capo. From now on, I belong to you.”

I listened to the whole thing without moving.

Two days until the wedding.

A few hours later, another message arrived from Vera.

100 places before the wedding: 99 complete.

Lorenzo chose your wedding for the last one.

I read it twice, then locked the screen.

Good.

At least now I had nothing left to hesitate over.

The day before the wedding, I did three things.

First, I recorded a short blessing in Sicilian.

Second, I copied every message, every audio file, and every video Vera had sent me.

Third, I placed all of it inside a gift box and left it with the flowers that would be delivered to Lorenzo on the morning of the ceremony.

By then, whatever he learned would come too late.

When my plane landed overseas, my phone lit up at once.

Calls. Messages. Unknown numbers. Lorenzo’s name again and again.

I didn’t read any of them.

I removed the SIM card, snapped it in half, and dropped both pieces into the nearest trash bin.

The wind coming off the water was cold and clean.

For the first time in a very long while, I could breathe.

Goodbye, Lorenzo.

This time, I meant it.