Avery’s POV

I was still confined to a hospital bed owned by the famiglia, my body sluggish and unreliable, like it hadn’t yet realized how much had been taken from it. My arms ached constantly, deep and hollow pain from the blood loss, and sitting upright for more than a few minutes sent the room tilting. But none of that compared to the weight crushing my chest—a grief so heavy no sedative could dull it.

I was grieving my child.

While I lay there beneath stark white sheets, surrounded by the quiet beeping of machines that measured survival but not loss, the world seemed eager to remind me just how insignificant my suffering was.

News of Don Zachary Moretti and Nina reached me without warning or mercy.

A former social acquaintance forwarded a video first—a glittering charity gala attended by political allies and rival families alike. Zachary stood at the center of it all in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, relaxed, amused, one arm draped possessively around Nina’s waist. She leaned into him with practiced ease, radiant, victorious.

Another clip followed soon after.

A private dinner gathering. Low lighting. Crystal glasses. Zachary lifting a fork to Nina’s lips, bending close to murmur something only she could hear. She laughed freely, tipping her head back, utterly shameless.

He looked… light.

Unburdened.

Like a man who hadn’t lost a single thing.

When the doctors finally cleared me for discharge, I left alone.

No driver sent by the estate. No bodyguard. No assistant hovering with instructions. Not even a courtesy call. I walked out carrying a thin hospital bag, the realization settling in with brutal clarity—I had been erased completely.

The thought of returning to the Moretti estate twisted my stomach. Every corridor, every room, was soaked in memory. But my passports, legal documents, and personal files were still there. Everything I needed to disappear.

I had no choice.

And then—because cruelty apparently wasn’t finished with me—I saw them.

They stood just outside the maternity wing.

Nina looked luminous, already basking in attention like a woman stepping into her rightful place. Zachary hovered close, one hand resting at her lower back, guiding her with proprietary ease, as though she were already the Donna of the family.

A nurse passed by, smiling warmly. “Don Moretti, your wife looks radiant today.”

My throat tightened, but I didn’t correct her.

I didn’t have the strength.

I turned away, intent on slipping out unseen.

“Avery.”

Zachary’s voice cut through the corridor.

I stopped mid-step. My shoulders stiffened, but I didn’t turn right away. Of course he noticed me. Of course he couldn’t allow me to vanish quietly.

I finally faced him across the polished floor. “I wasn’t trailing you,” I said evenly. “I was discharged today. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Before he could respond, Nina looped her arm through his, clinging to him as though she’d always belonged there.

“Love,” she said gently, false concern dripping from every syllable, “maybe she should ride with us. I feel a little guilty, you know. She gave blood for me. The least we could do is make sure she gets home.”

The audacity nearly made me laugh.

Zachary brushed his thumb along Nina’s cheek. “You’re too kind,” he murmured, then looked at me. “Fine.”

So I got into the car.

Not because I wanted to—but because I needed my documents before I disappeared for good.

I slid into the backseat and fixed my gaze forward.

That was when I saw it.

A pair of women’s underwear lay crumpled beside me, unmistakably stained white.

The sight knocked the air from my lungs.

Nina twisted around in her seat, lips curling into a smug smile. “Oh my God,” she giggled, “I can’t believe I forgot those. Remember, babe? After what we did back here last week?”

Zachary chuckled, eyes still on the road. “You almost ruined the leather.”

She hummed. “You didn’t seem bothered when I was on your lap outside the estate. Or when I kept you busy during that long drive.”

“Traffic’s easier with you,” he replied casually.

“And that time you had to pull over because I wouldn’t stop?” she added brightly. “You were shaking.”

My stomach twisted violently.

I turned toward the window, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. My hands curled into fists in my lap, nails biting into my skin.

While they carried on as if I didn’t exist, I quietly opened my phone and pulled up an email from my cousin, Sebastian.

My heart stuttered when I saw the flight confirmation.

Beneath it, he’d added a note:

I booked another option. It departs tonight at 9 PM. Please—make this one.

A faint smile touched my lips.

I typed back quickly:

Thank you. I’m sorry I missed the last flight.

His reply came almost instantly:

What really happened that day? You don’t have to protect me.

My fingers hovered.

Sebastian had always been my shield. If he knew the truth, he’d launch a legal war—and I didn’t want more blood on my conscience.

So I answered:

I’ll explain later. I just need to leave first.

Leaving was all that mattered now.

Up front, Zachary laughed softly, apologizing to Nina over something trivial, playing the attentive partner. Yet I felt his gaze flick toward me, waiting for a reaction.

I gave him nothing.

Irritation flashed in his eyes. He hated being ignored.

“You’ve been glued to your phone since we got in,” he snapped. “Who are you talking to?”

“Just catching up on the news,” I replied calmly, eyes on my boarding pass.

He didn’t believe me.

Without warning, he reached back and yanked the phone from my hands.

Anger surged—hot, clean, undeniable.

“What’s the passcode?” he demanded.

I smiled faintly. “The day we met. The day I made the worst mistake of my life. You were charming for about five minutes. After that? Pure arrogance.”

He scowled and tried.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Locked.

Nina leaned over, her voice syrupy with mock pity. “Let it go, babe. It’s not like she has anyone left to talk to. Or any pride. Who would even bother responding to her now?”

She winked at me.

I stared back, silent.

And in that moment, something settled into place with absolute clarity.

They thought I was broken.

They had no idea I was already planning my escape—and what would come after.

Avery’s POV

When the car rolled through the iron gates of the estate, Don Zachary didn’t spare me a glance.

His attention was fixed entirely on the woman clinging to his arm.

He guided his nauseated mistress up the marble steps toward the master suite, his palm firm at her lower back, steering her as if she were something fragile—and precious. He barked instructions to the chef to prepare her favorite dishes, then lingered at the doorway longer than necessary, watching her settle into the bed that had once been mine, waiting for her smile like a man desperate for approval.

Only when he turned to head downstairs did he finally notice me.

I was trudging toward the guest wing, suitcase dragging behind me, the sound echoing down the corridor like a quiet declaration of defeat. Everything I had left in the world rattled inside that bag.

He stopped mid-step.

Without turning fully around, he muttered to the chef, “Prepare two more plates. The ones Avery prefers. Set three places.”

That made me pause.

For half a second, I wondered if I’d imagined it. If there was regret buried somewhere beneath his arrogance. A hollow attempt at decency—setting a place for me at the table while his mistress occupied the Don’s bed.

The thought was almost laughable.

He couldn’t remember the date we first met. Couldn’t be bothered to unlock his phone for me. Yet now he expected rosemary lamb and a place setting to mean something?

I bit down hard on my teeth and kept walking.

The guest room door closed behind me with a soft click that landed heavier than any insult. The silence pressed in instantly, thick and accusing, as though the walls themselves understood I no longer belonged here.

I dropped my bag at the foot of the bed and knelt to unzip it.

The moment the zipper parted, my stomach sank.

Every piece of clothing inside had been destroyed.

Not torn in anger—cut cleanly, deliberately, shredded into neat strips. Whoever did it hadn’t acted on impulse. This was careful. Calculated. A message.

My chest hollowed out.

Then I noticed what remained.

Tucked deep into the lining—my passport. Plane tickets. Legal documents. Every paper I couldn’t afford to lose.

Untouched.

Protected.

I sank back onto my heels, disbelief and fury crashing together. I didn’t need to guess who’d done this.

Nina.

Only she would be petty enough to destroy what hurt while preserving what mattered. Only she would want me humiliated—but still able to leave, so she could claim victory without consequence.

There would be a reckoning later.

For now, I needed out.

I crouched by the bed, shoving the remaining salvageable items into my bag, when the door creaked open behind me.

Nina stepped inside.

She held a small black bottle between two fingers, swinging it casually as her eyes swept the room like she was inspecting property. Her nose wrinkled, disdain written clearly across her face—until her gaze landed on me.

If looks could kill, I would’ve been dust.

“Well,” she drawled, tilting her head with that sickly sweetness that always made my skin crawl, “you really are impressive, Avery. After everything I’ve done to embarrass you in front of capos, investors, socialites—anyone who matters—you still cling to this place like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.”

Her smile sharpened.

“Oh. That’s right. Your grandmother passed last month, didn’t she?” She feigned thoughtfulness. “Now that your last piece of family is gone, I suppose it makes sense. You’re desperate. Hanging onto Zachary like he’s your final lifeline.”

Then she laughed—light, cruel, perfectly timed.

“Remember how you begged him to fly you out to see her one last time?” she asked softly. “Do you want to know why he didn’t?”

She lifted her phone, waving it like a blade.

“Because he promised to take me to the coast that day. Sunset. Champagne. That photo everyone saw? That’s when it was taken.”

The words didn’t hit all at once.

They fractured slowly—spreading through me like cracks in glass.

She’d known.

She’d known exactly what she was doing when she flaunted that picture. When she reminded me of the helicopter. Of the one day I’d knelt on cold marble, begging him to let me leave for just a few hours.

And he chose her.

The pressure built in my chest, jaw locking, fists curling at my sides until my nails bit skin.

Something inside me snapped.

“You think this is amusing?” I hissed, my voice low and sharp. “You think tearing apart what little I have left makes you powerful? Makes you worthy to stand beside him?”

Nina arched a brow, lips curving into something predatory. “I don’t need to be his equal,” she said calmly. “I already have everything.”

I stepped closer, teeth bared. “You have nothing,” I spat. “You’re a parasite. A leech feeding on scraps from his life—and mine.”

The room went very still.

Avery's POV

She lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug, satisfaction curling her mouth into something ugly and pleased.

“Still more than you’ll ever touch,” she said lightly.

That was the moment everything shattered.

I slapped the phone out of her hand. It flew across the room and struck the marble floor with a sharp crack, skidding until the screen spider-webbed uselessly.

I didn’t think. I didn’t plan.

My body surged forward on pure fury.

My fingers wrapped around her throat, tightening before my mind could register what I was doing. Rage thundered through me so violently it stole my breath, drowned out reason, drowned out fear.

The small black bottle slipped from Nina’s grasp and hit the floor with a hollow clink. The cap rolled once.

Then—

The smell detonated.

Gasoline.

Sharp and vicious, tearing through the air like a blade. It burned my nostrils, clawed down my throat, spread across the room in an instant like something alive and hungry.

We crashed into each other—hands shoving, nails tearing, bodies slamming into furniture. She kicked wildly, heel striking metal. Maybe a lighter. Maybe stone against steel.

Whatever it was, it was enough.

The fire didn’t pause.

Flames erupted violently, racing up the curtains, leaping along the walls as if they’d been waiting for an excuse. Heat slammed into my skin. Smoke poured in thick and black, devouring the room.

My body failed me.

Still weak. Still drained.

My lungs seized. I dropped hard to the floor, coughing so violently it felt like my ribs would split open. The world spun—fire, shadow, choking darkness folding in on itself.

The last thing I saw before everything blurred was the ceiling igniting, flames crawling across it like something sentient.

“Avery!”

A voice tore through the smoke.

“Don, it’s not safe!” someone shouted. “The soldiers are coming—you can’t go in there!”

“Get out of my way!” Zachary roared. “She’s still inside!”

I tried to open my eyes.

Was it real? Or just my mind breaking under smoke and terror? Had he really said my name? Had he actually come for me?

“Z-Zachary…” Nina sobbed weakly. “I’m here too. Please. Save me. Save our child.”

For one treacherous heartbeat, hope flared.

Stupid. Fragile. Deadly.

I wanted to believe—just for a second—that he’d run into fire for me. That I still mattered enough to be chosen.

Then the truth crashed down hard.

He didn’t come because of me.

He came because eyes were watching. Because word would spread through the famiglia. Because the press would feast on it. Because a Don couldn’t afford to look like a coward who abandoned women to flames.

And the moment Nina called out?

There was no hesitation.

He lifted her like she weighed nothing, shielding her from smoke and heat, carrying her out as if she were priceless—

While I lay choking on the floor, darkness closing in.

Time fractured.

Minutes—or longer—passed in a haze.

After ensuring she was safe, he tore through the estate, barking orders, shouting my name, searching every wing.

But I was already gone.

I don’t know how I escaped.

Fire roared in my ears, smoke shredding my throat, dizziness crashing over me in brutal waves. But something raw took control—instinct stripped bare.

I crawled.

Dragged myself forward inch by inch.

My fingers brushed against my bag. I grabbed it with shaking hands and clutched it to my chest like it was the last thing anchoring me to life.

A window nearby had cracked from the heat.

I hurled myself through it.

Glass ripped into my skin as I hit the lawn outside, rolling hard, gasping. My legs collapsed. My chest burned like it was on fire.

But I was alive.

I didn’t look back.

Some service corridor must’ve been untouched—or the fire simply hadn’t reached it yet. I barely remember. Just stumbling through darkness free of smoke, barely upright, until I found the rear exit.

Cold night air slammed into my face as I fell outside, coughing until my body shook violently.

No one saw me.

No one followed.

And I didn’t stop.

Not when my knees buckled. Not when I had to cling to street signs, brace against parked cars, drag myself forward step by step. I kept going because I knew—deep in my bones—that if I stopped, if they found me again, I wouldn’t survive a second time.

I vanished into the city.

Hours later, I boarded a flight bound for the Northern Territories.

Just before takeoff, my phone vibrated.

A message from Don Zachary.

[Stop playing games, Avery. I don’t have time for this.]

I stared at the screen, feeling absolutely nothing.

Then I powered the phone off, leaned back as the plane began to move—

and finally let the distance carry me away.