chapter 4

The Escape

The chains rattled one final time.

Then...Silence followed.

Valentina stood at the study window, her fingertips pressed against the cold glass.

The last glimpse of the black Rolls-Royce disappeared beyond the bend in the road.

It was gone.

The men it had left behind were not.

Floodlights washed over the estate, turning the rain into streaks of silver. Armed guards paced along the perimeter with practiced precision, their radios crackling every few seconds.

One at the east gate.

Two near the front entrance.

Another pair circling the gardens.

Not a single Russo guard among them.

She swallowed.

"They're replacing our security."

Behind her, Vittorio lowered himself into his chair.

"They're protecting the agreement."

She turned sharply.

"They're imprisoning me."

He didn't argue.

That hurt more than if he had.

The mansion felt different by morning.

The smell of fresh coffee drifted through the halls, but no one lingered in the dining room.

Housemaids moved quickly, eyes fixed on the floor.

Conversations died the moment Valentina entered.

She reached for a piece of toast.

Rosa quietly set another plate in front of her.

"Thank you."

The older woman gave a faint nod.

As she turned away, Valentina caught sight of tears glistening in her eyes.

"Rosa."

She stopped.

"Do you think I'm making the wrong decision?"

Rosa's hands tightened around the serving tray.

"I think..."

Her voice faltered.

"...sometimes the strongest people are the ones who refuse to accept the life chosen for them."

Before Valentina could respond, Rosa hurried into the kitchen.

Marco appeared a moment later, already dressed.

He tossed a set of car keys onto the table.

"Come with me."

She frowned.

"Where?"

"A drive."

The black sedan rolled through the estate.

Or at least...

It tried to.

The front gates remained shut.

Marco lowered the driver's window.

One of Alessandro's guards approached.

His expression never changed.

"Open the gate."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

Marco's jaw tightened.

"This is Russo property."

"I only follow instructions"

"My father didn't give those instructions."

"No."

The guard met his stare without blinking.

"The Don did."

Marco climbed out of the car.

Rain soaked through his jacket almost instantly.

He walked until he stood inches from the guard.

"You work for him."

"I do."

"I don't!."

The guard remained perfectly still.

Marco laughed once.

A dangerous sound.

"You've got ten seconds."

Nothing.

Not even a flinch.

Valentina stepped out before the situation could explode.

"Marco."

He didn't look at her.

"Get back in the car."

She touched his arm.

His muscles were rigid beneath the fabric.

"This is what he wants."

Marco finally looked at her.

"We're prisoners."

She glanced beyond the gates.

Freedom lay just a few feet away.

Yet it had never felt farther.

That afternoon, Valentina wandered through the mansion.

She climbed to the third floor where unused rooms gathered dust.

She crossed the west hallway where faded portraits lined the walls.

Near the end of the corridor, a narrow staircase disappeared into darkness.

She frowned.

She had never noticed it before.

The wooden steps creaked beneath her weight.

Cobwebs stretched between the railings.

At the top... she found a small attic.

Old trunks.

Broken furniture.

Stacks of forgotten paintings.

She almost turned back.

Then she noticed it.

A window.

Small....Hidden behind a heavy curtain.

She pushed it open.

Cool air rushed inside.

Below...

The rear gardens.

Beyond them...

The old stone wall surrounding the estate.

Not nearly as heavily guarded as the front.

Her pulse quickened.

She studied the distance.

A climb.

A short sprint.

The wall.

If she could reach the woods beyond it...

She smiled for the first time in days.

Not because she was safe.

Because she finally had a chance.

That evening, she waited.

The mansion settled into silence.

One by one, the lights went out.

Midnight.

She pulled on dark jeans, a black sweater, and sneakers.

No suitcase.

No phone charger.

Only the essentials.

She tucked her passport and a small envelope of cash into her backpack.

One last look around her room.

The white rose still stood on the nightstand.

She walked over.

Lifted the vase.

And carried it to the window.

For a moment, she considered throwing it into the garden.

Instead...

She placed it gently on the windowsill.

"Keep your flowers," she whispered.

"I'm keeping my freedom."

She slipped into the hallway.

Every floorboard seemed louder tonight.

She froze as a grandfather clock chimed once.

Then continued.

Down the corridor.

Up the hidden attic stairs.

Through the narrow window.

Rain had started again.

She eased herself onto the roof, gripping the wet stone with both hands.

Her heart pounded against her ribs.

One careful step.

Then another.

The garden stretched below.

No voices.

No flashlights.

No movement.

She lowered herself onto an old oak branch that brushed against the roofline.

The bark scraped her palms.

The branch groaned.

She held her breath.

It held.

Slowly, she climbed down.

Her shoes landed on rain-soaked grass without a sound.

She looked toward the rear wall.

Only fifty yards.

She started running.

Thirty yards.

Twenty.

Ten.

Hope surged through her chest.

Then....

A beam of white light cut through the darkness.

It stopped directly at her feet.

She froze.

A slow clap echoed across the garden.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

From the shadows, a familiar voice drifted through the rain.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't come."

Valentina's breath caught.

A tall figure stepped into the light, an umbrella resting casually over one shoulder.

His charcoal overcoat was immaculate despite the storm.

Gray eyes met hers.

Calm.

Unhurried.

As though he'd known exactly where she'd be.

Don Alessandro De Luca smiled.

"I do admire determination, Valentina."

He glanced toward the stone wall behind her.

"But next time..."

His smile deepened ever so slightly.

"...choose a route I haven't already secured."