Alessia was stretched out on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, trying to find a moment’s peace. The house was unusually quiet, and she was almost starting to enjoy it when the door suddenly flew open.

Nicholas stormed in like he owned the place—which, technically, he did, with Ava trailing behind him. Ava looked around the room like she was evaluating a hotel suite. Alessia shot upright, her brows furrowing.

“What the hell, Nicholas?” she asked, still caught off guard.

Nicholas didn’t even blink. “Ava’s taking this room. You’ll move to the guest room.”

Alessia stared at him, wondering if she’d heard him wrong. “Come again?”

“You heard me,” Nicholas said, like it was no big deal. “Ava needs a comfortable space, and this is the best room in the house. So pack up your stuff and move.”

For a second, Alessia just sat there, trying to process the absurdity of what he was saying. “This is my room.”

“And it’s just a room,” he shot back, his tone dripping with impatience. “You’ll be fine in the guest room for now. Don’t make this into a thing.”

Before Alessia could say anything, Ava chimed in, her voice all soft and fake-sweet. “Nicholas, I don’t want to cause any trouble. I can take another room—it’s really fine.”

“No,” Nicholas said firmly, not even glancing at her. His focus stayed on Alessia. “You need the best. You’re staying here.”

Alessia looked between the two of them, her chest tightening. But instead of snapping or fighting, she just nodded, keeping her face blank. “Fine. I’ll move.”

Without another word, she got up and left, walking past them like they weren’t even there. She didn’t trust herself to say anything else.

The guest room was small, cramped, and lifeless. Alessia sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the blank walls. It felt weird, like she didn’t belong in her own house anymore. Maybe she never had.

Her fingers brushed over the edge of the pillowcase, her mind racing. She thought about all the little things she’d done over the years to make this house feel like a home—the curtains she’d picked out, the photos she’d hung, the furniture she’d arranged. It didn’t matter now. Nicholas had made it clear that none of it was hers.

And when she thought that’s all it was she had to do for Nicholas’ lovely Ava, Nicholas barged inside the room again.

“Cook something for Ava,” he barked, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Alessia didn’t even look up. “I’m tired, Nicholas,” she said evenly. “And in case you forgot, my hand’s injured.”

He scoffed. “It’s just your hand, Alessia. You can manage.”

She ignored him. She wasn’t going to budge on this. Before Nicholas could escalate the situation, Ava walked in, her voice dripping with forced kindness. “It’s fine, Nicholas. We can just eat out tonight,” she said with a disarming smile. Turning to Alessia, she added, “You should join us. We haven’t really had a chance to get to know each other.”

Alessia raised a brow, but Nicholas jumped at the suggestion before she could decline. “Perfect. Get ready, Alessia,” he said sharply, as if it were an order.

The restaurant Ava chose served Asian food, something Alessia knew Nicholas hated. Over the years, he’d made it very clear how much he despised it every time she had dared to make it at home. But tonight, he didn’t complain. Not a word. Instead, he smiled and listened attentively as Ava gushed about her favorite dishes, his eyes lighting up in a way Alessia hadn’t seen in years.

Alessia sat quietly, picking at her food. The aroma of the food, the warm chatter, and the clinking of utensils blurred into a dull hum in her mind. Across the table, Ava and Nicholas laughed over shared memories, their voices too loud and too familiar. Alessia could barely hear herself think.

At one point, Ava glanced over at Alessia, her tone all sugary sweetness. “I hope we’re not making you feel left out. It’s just… you weren’t around back then.”

Alessia managed a polite smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

But she did worry. Every word stung. She focused on her food, chewing as her thoughts wandered. She thought about the years she’d spent with Nicholas—the way she’d supported him through his mafia dealings, endured his coldness, and still fought to keep their relationship afloat. And now, here she was, playing third wheel while he doted on someone else. Someone who had walked back into his life and easily taken over.

She sighed softly, reminding herself this was temporary. Just a little longer, and she’d be gone.

Just as they were finishing their meal, a gunshot cracked through the air, loud enough to silence the restaurant. Chaos erupted immediately—people screamed, chairs toppled, and Nicholas’ men burst in, guns drawn.

“Ambush!” one of them shouted. “Stay down!”

Alessia ducked instinctively, her heart pounding. She turned to Nicholas, expecting him to grab her, protect her—anything. But he wasn’t looking at her.

“Stay close to me!” Nicholas yelled, grabbing Ava’s hand. Without hesitation, he pulled her up, shielding her as they made a break for the exit, his men surrounding them.

“Nicholas!” Alessia called out, her voice lost in the chaos.

Before she could follow, a sharp, searing pain shot through her arm. She gasped, clutching the wound as blood soaked her sleeve. She dropped to the floor, dazed, her vision blurring from the sudden pain.

Nicholas didn’t even glance back. He was too busy making sure Ava was safe, his focus entirely on her.

Alessia gritted her teeth, struggling to stay conscious. The gunfire around her felt distant now, drowned out by the rush of her own heartbeat. She tried to crawl for cover, but her strength was fading fast.

And as she lay there, bleeding and alone, one thought consumed her: If I survive this, I’m done.

Her world tilted as her vision darkened.

Alessia woke up in the hospital, groggy and disoriented. Her first thought was Nicholas. She asked the doctor, “Where’s my husband?” hoping he’d been waiting for her.

The doctor gave her a sympathetic look. “No one has come by, aside from a few bodyguards. I’m sorry.”

That was when it hit her—she was alone, as always. Nicholas wasn’t coming, and she wasn’t about to waste any more energy waiting for someone who never showed up. She’d given him enough chances. By the time she was discharged, Alessia knew exactly what she needed to do: leave.

She didn’t go home. What was the point? The house wasn’t hers anymore, not really. Nicholas hadn’t checked on her, hadn’t even called. Instead, she booked a quiet room at a hotel, packed light, and waited for her flight. It was freeing, in a bittersweet way.

Before leaving, she made one last call—to Nicholas’ mother.

“Thank you for everything,” Alessia said softly, her voice steady despite the emotions bubbling beneath. “You’ve been the only one who’s ever truly cared for me.”

Nicholas’ mother sounded heartbroken. “Alessia, I’m really sorry. I should have known but thank you for keeping up with those five years.”

“Please, promise me one thing,” she interrupted gently. “Don’t tell Nicholas where I’m going. Let me go in peace.”

“I will not,” she replied. “Be sure to take care of yourself, Alessia. Good luck.”

---

Alessia sat at the terminal, her fingers lightly tapping the armrest of the chair. The airport buzzed with the usual noise—announcements over the intercom, the shuffle of passengers, rolling suitcases on polished floors—but all she felt was a hollow stillness. Her boarding pass rested in her lap, the edges crumpled from her nervous grip.

She glanced at the large windows overlooking the runway, watching planes take off one by one. Each one felt like freedom, carrying her closer to a life away from Nicholas, away from disappointment. She inhaled deeply, her chest tightening as she fought the urge to cry.

Her phone buzzed in her bag. Alessia frowned, pulling it out. The name flashing on the screen made her stomach twist. Nicholas.

For a moment, she debated letting it ring. What could he possibly want now? But curiosity—or maybe masochism—got the better of her. She swiped to answer.

“Alessia,” Nicholas’ deep voice came through. “Is the banquet later all set?”

Her heart sank. Of course. No concern for her well-being, no questions about where she was or if she was okay after the hospital. Just business.

She forced a bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the air like a blade. “Why don’t you ask Ava?”

There was a pause on the line. Nicholas sounded caught off guard. “What are you talking about? I just need—”

“Don’t bother me again, Nicholas.” Her voice was cold. Before he could respond, she ended the call.

Back at the estate, chaos ruled under a thin veneer of elegance. Servers darted around, finalizing details for the evening banquet, while Ava stood in the center of it all, barking orders like she owned the place.

Her smirk gave her away, though. She’d intentionally skipped a few details Alessia had planned, subtle enough to sabotage but not enough to draw suspicion. If anything went wrong, Alessia would take the fall, even in her absence.

Nicholas stormed in, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. “Where’s Alessia?”

Ava didn’t even flinch, feigning a look of mild confusion. “I have no idea. Maybe she’s busy with other details?”

His jaw clenched as he turned to one of his men. “Find her. Now.”

The man nodded and disappeared. Nicholas faced Ava again. “Make sure everything is perfect tonight. I don’t want excuses.”

Ava tilted her head. “Of course, but Alessia was in charge of some things. If something’s missing, it’s probably not my fault.”

Nicholas’ glare was ice-cold. Without another word, he walked off, pulling out his phone. His thumb hovered over Alessia’s number before he pressed it, listening to the dial tone with growing impatience.

No answer. Again.

He cursed under his breath.

Later that night, the grand mafia banquet was in full swing. Guests milled around in glittering outfits, sipping champagne.

Nicholas, seated at the head of the table, swirled his glass of wine and took a sip. His brows furrowed immediately. "What is this?"

A waiter nervously stepped forward. "It’s the wine we were instructed to serve, sir."

Nicholas set the glass down with a thud. "Where’s the Conti 1945?"

The waiter stammered. "We... we were told not to include it. Madam Alessia gave the instructions."

Nicholas’ jaw tightened, his patience fraying. "Alessia?" He scanned the room, his sharp gaze searching for her. A cold realization crept over him—he hadn’t seen her all evening.

Standing abruptly, he barked at his men. "Find Alessia. Now."

The command sent his men scattering through the estate, combing every corner of the venue and its surroundings. But when they returned, each shook their head.

"No one’s seen her, boss," one of them reported.

Nicholas’ irritation turned to unease. He pulled out his phone, dialing her number. No answer. Again. The emptiness gnawed at him.

Moments later, his phone buzzed. It was his underboss, Eliseo.

"Boss, I have news,” the voice informed him.

“Where is she? Did you find her?” he asked, impatient.

“Alessia has a scheduled flight tonight.”

“A flight, to where?” He raised his brow. “And when is she coming back?”

“I don’t think she’s coming back, boss. It’s a one-way ticket."