Chapter 3: The Devil Is Coming Home

Elena/Ileana POV

The next morning, I sat comfortably on top of Dr. Vane’s wooden desk, one leg swinging lazily over the edge while I sucked on a strawberry lollipop.

I heard the heavy office door handle turn.

Dr. Vane walked in, clutching a stack of patient files. The moment his eyes landed on me, he froze. The color drained from his face so fast it was almost comical.

"Relax," I said, amused, pulling the lollipop from my mouth with a soft pop. "We’re not having another torture session today."

He swallowed hard, his throat moving nervously.

I gave him a calm smile. "I came because I need a favor from you. You’ll do me a favor, won't you?"

"Yes," he whispered, his voice trembling. "What... what do you want?"

I studied him closely. The man looked completely broken. Dark, heavy bags hung beneath his eyes, his cheeks were hollow, and his white lab coat hung loosely over his shrunken frame. He clearly hadn't slept properly in the three months since I had taken over the ward.

Good.

"A little spending money," I said simply.

He blinked, confused. "Money?"

"I’m going out today," I said, swinging my legs down from the desk. "I need some fresh air and a bit of sightseeing."

Dr. Vane looked at me in disbelief. "You're... you're leaving the asylum again?"

I tilted my head, my eyes narrowing just a fraction. "Is that a problem?"

"No," he said quickly, his hands fumbling as he set his files down. "No problem at all."

"Good." I walked over to him, stopping right in front of his trembling frame. "I’ll need enough to eat and entertain myself for the day."

He didn't argue. He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a sleek black credit card, handing it to me with a shaky hand.

I took the card from his fingers and patted his cheek lightly. "You’re such a good sport, Vane."

He stiffened, barely daring to breathe.

I turned and walked toward the door. Just as my hand touched the brass handle, I paused and looked back over my shoulder.

"Oh, and Vane?"

He flinched. "Y… yes?"

"I don't have to remind you to keep your mouth shut, do I?"

"No," he said immediately, his voice desperate. "If the Belluccis call, I’ll tell them everything is under control. I'll tell them you are still locked in your room and undergoing treatment."

I smiled softly. "Good boy."

I stepped out of the office and walked down the corridor. The moment I passed, conversations died instantly. Orderlies pressed themselves against the walls to give me room, and nurses kept their eyes fixed on the floor.

When I reached the heavy front gates, the guard on duty straightened his posture and lowered his head slightly.

Nobody questioned where I was going.

Nobody dared.

Over the last three months, everyone at Saint Aurelia had learned to stay out of my way.

Stepping past the gates, I took a deep breath of the cool morning air. It tasted like freedom.

I pulled the lollipop back between my lips and looked at the credit card in my hand. Since Vane was being so generous, I decided to make the most of his money.

My first stop was a high-end clothing boutique in the center of Verona.

I bought some shorts, fitted tops, leather jackets, and a pair of comfortable boots. Then I bought a few luxury bags to carry it all. After months of wearing a white lab coat over basic clothes, buying quality outfits made me feel more like myself again.

By the time late afternoon arrived, I had several sleek shopping bags hanging from my fingers.

I left the bags in a secure locker at a local train station and spent the rest of the evening wandering the streets, letting this new city sink into my mind.

I didn't have anywhere specific to go yet, but I needed to get familiar with the layout of the city.

As night fell over Verona, I made my way toward the wealthy residential district on the outskirts of the city.

My target was the main estate of the D'Angelo family.

I had spent the previous night studying Adonis D'Angelo, but I needed more than news articles.

I needed to see what kind of environment he came from before I made my move.

Approaching a man like him directly without preparation was foolish, so observing his home base was my best option.

The D'Angelo estate was massive, surrounded by high stone walls, wrought-iron gates, and armed security patrols.

To a normal person, getting inside would be impossible. But I was a trained assassin. Infiltration was second nature to me.

I waited in the treeline until the perimeter guards rotated their shifts. Slipping through a blind spot in the security cameras, I scaled the wall, dropped silently into the garden shadows, and moved toward the main building.

I climbed up a stone pillar onto a second-floor balcony, slipping through an unlocked glass door.

The room inside was dark and quiet. I moved through the hallway with light, silent steps, checking private study rooms and guest quarters while keeping out of sight.

The house felt strangely empty. There was no sign of Adonis anywhere.

I paused near a grand hallway on the upper level, hearing heavy footsteps below. I crouched behind a marble pillar, looking down at two guards walking along the lower floor.

"Did you hear the news from the main office?" one guard asked, lighting a cigarette.

"No, what news?" the second replied.

"Master Adonis is coming back next week."

I stayed completely still, listening closely.

The second guard groaned, shaking his head. "Great. Things are about to get messy around here again."

"Tell me about it," the first guard grumbled. "Honestly, I wish he had just stayed abroad. I don't know why the old man insists on bringing him back into the family business."

"Because he's effective," the second guard said softly. "The old man knows Adonis is the only one mean enough to handle the northern territories. But whenever he's in this house, everyone walks on eggshells."

"Yeah, well, I'm taking my leave days next week," the first guard muttered as they walked down the corridor, their voices fading into the distance.

I stood up slowly from behind the pillar.

So Adonis wasn't even in Italy. He was abroad and returning next week.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across my face.

The sheer dread in those guards' voices confirmed that his reputation was not exaggerated.

His own family feared him, and his reputation was built on genuine cold authority.

He was precisely the kind of force I needed.

Since he wasn't here, there was no point hanging around his estate any longer. I moved back toward the balcony, slipped over the railing, and dropped quietly into the garden before making my way past the perimeter wall.

An hour later, I retrieved my shopping bags from the station and began walking down the quiet road leading back to Saint Aurelia.

The streets were dark and mostly empty, lit only by spaced-out streetlights. I popped a fresh lollipop into my mouth, carrying my bags in one hand while enjoying the quiet night air.

Suddenly, a strange prickle hit the back of my neck.

My instincts instantly flared. The hairs on my arms stood up, and my body went on high alert.

Danger was close.

I slowed my pace, listening to the night.

Footsteps thundered around the far corner of the street. Fast, uneven, and heavy.

Someone was sprinting toward me.

I stepped into the dark shadow of a narrow alleyway between two brick buildings, pressing my back against the wall.

A tall figure rounded the corner, breathing heavily. He was dressed in a dark jacket, his face partially hidden by a black mask. He was limping slightly, dragging his left leg as if he had been shot or stabbed.

Behind him, several heavy footsteps echoed down the street. Men were chasing him.

The stranger was heading straight for the mouth of my alleyway.

If those men caught him right in front of where I stood, I would end up dragged into whatever mess he was running from. I wasn't about to let his problem become mine.

Before he could run past and bring his pursuers straight to my position, my arm reached out with lightning speed, grabbed his arm, and yanked him hard into the shadows.