Chapter 4

Without realizing it, I found myself at the church where we were married.

Five years ago, he stood at this altar and swore to love me for the rest of his life.

What a joke that seemed now.

I pushed open the church doors.

It was empty, save for a few candles flickering in the darkness.

Kneeling in a pew, exhausted from sleepless nights and on the verge of collapse, my vision went black before I finally gave way.

The priest found me and had me taken to the family's private clinic.

I had just woken up and was stumbling out of my room. I had decided to use this opportunity to find a doctor and confirm my own quiet miracle, to make sure my baby was okay.

Then I heard a familiar voice.

"Sweetheart, be careful. Take it slow."

Rocco was here.

He was carefully helping Scarlett out of the obstetrics department.

As I passed the nurses' station, their hushed whispers caught my ear.

"Did you see? The maid, Scarlett, is here again."

"Yeah, with Don Falcone this time. Last month it was with that young caporegime, and before that, some bodyguard I didn't recognize."

"She's been with a few different men for her checkups. I wonder who the real father is."

My blood ran cold.

I kept walking, just as Scarlett spotted me, clutching an ultrasound photo, her baby bump prominent.

"Rocco, the doctor said our baby is perfectly healthy. It's a boy," she said, her voice rising the moment she saw me. "The Falcone family will finally have an heir."

While Rocco went to get the report, she walked over to me.

"Well, if it isn't Mrs. Falcone."

"Why the long face? Are you upset to hear I'm having a son?"

She came to a stop in front of me, deliberately sticking out her belly. "Alessia, look at the little prince in my belly. He'll be the next Don of the Falcone family."

"It's such a shame you can't have children anymore. Otherwise, you could have given Rocco an heir, too."

She stared at me, waiting for me to break down.

Even after all this time, any mention of children still sent a sharp, twisting pain through my heart.

But I didn't break my stride or let my expression change.

Pregnant? So what? Anything to do with Rocco and her was no longer my concern.

But Scarlett was relentless, stepping in front of me again. "Alessia, do you think Rocco will love me even more once our son is born? After all, he's the Falcone heir."

"Get out of my way."

My voice was hoarse, still weak from having just woken up.

"I'm not moving." Scarlett's smile widened. "With this child, I wonder how long you'll be able to keep your title as the lady of the house."

Just then, Rocco returned with the report.

He frowned at the sight of us facing off and quickly pulled Scarlett behind him. "Alessia? What are you doing here?"

Scarlett immediately put on a hurt expression and tugged at his arm. "Rocco, I just wanted to say hello to Alessia, but she seems very unhappy."

Rocco's gaze fell on my face. Seeing how pale I was, his frown deepened. "What's wrong with you? You look terrible."

I ignored him and tried to walk past them.

"Alessia!" He grabbed my arm, his grip anything but gentle. "Are you sick?"

I jerked my arm away. "Let go. It's none of your business."

Rocco paused. "You're my wife. Your health is my business."

I looked him straight in the eye. "I don't need it."

With that, I pushed my weak body forward and left.

Rocco didn't follow. Instead, he wrapped his arm around Scarlett and led her towards the pharmacy.

Back at the estate, I rested briefly in my study.

Then I made a call on a secure line. "Vincenzo, it's all set."

"Tomorrow, three in the morning. Meet me at the private airfield."

Vincenzo's voice, low and steady, came through the secure line.

"Remember, Alessia, only bring the essentials. I'll have everything else prepared for you."

Once the escape was set, I began destroying all the crucial legal files of the Falcone family.

The contract for control of the New York ports, the documents establishing the money laundering channels, the secret agreements with politicians...

Each one was worth millions of dollars.

Each one was enough to ensure the family's victory in any legal war.

Without hesitation, I threw them all into the fireplace.

Orange flames consumed the papers, turning nearly a decade of my hard work into ash.

The wedding photo of Rocco and me from the bedside table went into the fire, too.

All the gifts Rocco had ever given me, I had them packed up and given to the family servants.

The "home" I had once poured my heart into was now just a house.

"Ma'am, are you sure you want to get rid of all this?"

"These are the diamond earrings from the Boss, this is the ruby brooch for your anniversary, and this is your favorite pearl necklace."

"And this wooden carving… the Boss carved it for you himself."

I stuffed it all into black trash bags without a flicker of sentiment.

"Throw it all away."

Finally, I left a signed divorce agreement on the desk where he would see it the moment he returned.

Since Rocco still hadn't returned what rightfully belonged to me, I would take that as his agreement to the transaction.

The division of assets, alimony, all the terms were in Rocco's favor.

All I wanted was my freedom.

As the last wisp of smoke rose from the fireplace, I left the Falcone estate for good.

At 2:45 a.m., at the private airfield arranged by Vincenzo, my phone rang.

It was Rocco. I didn't answer.

Instead, I pulled the SIM card from my phone and tossed it onto the rain-slicked tarmac.

Then I boarded the plane without looking back.