Chapter 7

Rosa led me through the house, her heels clicking against the floor in a steady rhythm.

“Library. Sitting room. Music room. Mr. Santini’s office... don’t go in there unless he asks for you.”

We passed door after door, each one more elaborate than the last. I tried to memorize everything. The turns. The staircases. The exits.

Anything that might help me later.

We climbed to the second floor, then the third. The hallways here were quieter. Fewer paintings. Fewer signs of life.

Rosa stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall.

It looked different from the others. Heavier. Darker wood. No decorative handle, just a simple lock.

“What’s in there?”

Rosa didn’t even glance at it. “That room is off limits.”

“Why?”

“No one enters without Mr. Santini’s permission. It has a specific cleaner. No exceptions.”

I stared at the door, curiosity burning in my chest. “What’s he hiding?”

Rosa’s expression didn’t change. “Questions like that will get you in trouble, signorina. Come.”

She walked away, and I had no choice but to follow.

But I glanced back once.

That door.

What was behind it?

The tour continued. More rooms. More rules. Don’t go here. Don’t touch that. Don’t ask questions.

Finally, Rosa led me to a set of glass doors.

“The garden. You’re allowed outside, but stay within the walls.”

She opened the doors, and fresh air hit my face.

The garden was enormous. Perfectly trimmed hedges. Fountains. Flower beds bursting with color. Stone pathways winding through it all.

And at the far end, a high stone wall.

“How high is it?” I asked.

Rosa looked at me. “High enough.”

“Can I go out there now?”

“Yes. But don’t be late for dinner. Seven o’clock.”

She left me standing there.

I stepped outside slowly, the sun warm against my skin. It felt like freedom, even though I knew it wasn’t.

I walked the paths, taking in everything. The wall was tall, maybe twelve feet. But there were trees near it. Old ones with thick branches.

I stopped beneath one, tilting my head back.

The branches reached over the wall.

My heart started to race.

I could climb it.

Not now. Not in daylight with guards watching. But at night…

I glanced around. There were cameras, but not everywhere. Blind spots. Shadows.

I kept walking, forcing myself to stay calm. To not let my excitement show.

By the time I went back inside, I’d memorized every detail.

Dinner was awkward.

Enzo sat at the head of the table again, and I sat across from him. We didn’t speak. Just ate in silence while the tension stretched between us.

I kept thinking about Violet. About the way he’d nodded at her, I wondered what was going on between the two

Even the way she’d gone upstairs.

My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to keep eating.

When it was over, Rosa appeared to take me back to my room.

“Goodnight, signorina.”

The door locked behind her.

I stood in the middle of the room, my heart pounding.

This was it.

I had to try.

I changed into the darkest clothes I could find. Black pants. A dark sweater. I pulled my hair into a tight bun and slipped on flat shoes.

Then I waited. I pretended to be asleep.

The house grew quieter. Footsteps faded. Voices stopped.

Finally, around midnight, I moved.

I opened the door slowly. It wasn’t locked.

Just like before.

He wanted me to think I could leave. Wanted to see what I’d do.

Well, tonight he’d find out.

I slipped into the hallway and moved quickly, keeping to the shadows. I remembered the route Rosa had taken. Down the stairs. Through the sitting room. To the glass doors that led to the garden.

I held my breath as I pushed them open.

No alarm.

I stepped outside.

The garden was darker now, lit only by moonlight. I moved quickly, staying low, keeping to the edge of the paths.

The tree loomed ahead of me.

I grabbed the lowest branch and pulled myself up. My arms screamed in protest, but I ignored them. Dancers were strong. I could do this.

Branch by branch, I climbed higher.

Finally, I reached the top of the wall.

I looked back once.

The house sat silent in the darkness. No lights. No movement.

Then I dropped down the other side.

I landed hard, my ankle twisting. Pain shot through my leg, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

I ran.

The streets were empty. Dark. I didn’t know where I was, but I kept moving, putting as much distance between me and that house as possible.

Finally, I saw lights. A main road. Cars.

I flagged down a taxi, my hands shaking.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

I gave him my address. The distance was longer than I expected; it was nearly an hour or two.

I got to my place, and my apartment looked the same.

I unlocked the door with trembling fingers and stepped inside. Everything was where I’d left it. My keys were on the counter and my bag on the couch.

Like nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

I grabbed my phone. Dead. I couldn't wait to plug it.

Then I grabbed cash from the drawer in my bedroom. My passport. Everything I might need.

I couldn’t stay here. He knew where I lived.

I had to keep moving.

I went back downstairs and got into the same taxi. The driver was still waiting; I had not paid him.

“Take me to a hotel. Nothing big. Something small.”

He nodded and drove.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled up in front of a modest building. Not fancy. Not expensive looking. Perfect.

I paid him and got out.

The lobby was small. One desk. One tired-looking clerk.

“I need a room.”

“How many nights?”

“Just one. For now.”

He handed me a key without asking questions.

Room 212.

I climbed the stairs slowly, my ankle throbbing now. When I finally got inside and locked the door, I collapsed onto the bed.

I’d escaped.

I should have felt relieved, but all I felt was terrified, because I knew I was in dip shit.