Chapter 3

When I woke the next morning, Dario was already sitting by the window, reviewing paperwork. The coffee on the table was untouched.

The moment he saw I was awake, he closed the file.

"I'm not going to the office today."

"Why not?"

"I'm taking you out."

I meant to say no, but then I remembered Luca's advice from the night before.

He needed time to map out the Moretti security routes, and he needed me to figure out which exits I could normally reach. I couldn't start acting strangely now.

So I nodded.

Dario drove himself. A single car carrying his bodyguards followed at a distance.

The road grew more and more familiar until it hit me: he was taking me back to my parents' vineyard.

The iron gate had been repainted, and the old stone wall had been repaired. Rows of grapevines stretched across the hillside, almost exactly as I remembered them.

I stood at the gate for a long time.

"Didn't you tell me this place was sold years ago?"

"I lied."

Dario pressed a ring of keys into my hand.

"I bought it back two years ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You'd just finished your seventh round of treatment," he said, gazing at the vines in the distance. "Every failure hurt you. I didn't want this place to become another consolation prize."

Down in the wine cellar, the old barrel my father had left behind was still there.

So was the crooked line I'd carved into its rim with a pocketknife when I was little. Nobody had touched it.

I reached out and ran my fingers over it.

"You even kept this?"

"Your father wouldn't let you have dessert for a week because of that mark."

I turned around. "How do you know that?"

"You told me once when you were drunk."

I never would have guessed he'd remember.

We walked slowly along the rows toward the back of the property. The fig tree was still there, and the old barn had new windows.

Dario pointed at the barn.

"Your mother used to say the barn had good light. She wanted to turn it into an art studio for you. Someday, if you want, we can fix it up."

Someday.

Over the past five years, he'd given me so many somedays.

Once the treatment worked.

Once my body was stable.

Once things in the Moretti family settled down.

Once the baby was born.

But five years ago, all the somedays meant for me alone had disappeared, and I hadn't even noticed.

The wind picked up toward evening, and Dario put his jacket around my shoulders.

"Elena."

"Hmm?"

"Once the baby's born, I'll send Viola away."

I looked up at him.

He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine.

"Too much has come between us lately. Once this is over, everything will go back to how it was."

I almost asked him.

If I told you right now that I know all 11 rounds were fake, would you feel even a little guilty? Every single time, I walked in full of hope and walked out disappointed.

And right then, of all moments, his phone rang.

Dario frowned and stepped out to take the call.

On the drive back, the car rounded a curve, and a folder slid off the back seat. Papers spilled across the floor. I bent to gather them, but the top page stopped me cold.

A medical authorization from five years ago.

"For all assisted reproduction procedures involving Elena Vitale, the final embryo transfer requires the written permission of Dario Moretti himself."

Below that was one more clause.

"If permission is not given, all external records must list the procedure as a failed implantation or a failed cycle."

At the very bottom was Dario's signature.

I put the papers back exactly the way they'd been.

Back at the estate, Dario went to the study for a meeting.

I locked myself in the bathroom and sent Luca a second text.

"I can't go the divorce route."

He called me right away.

"Why not?"

"Dario controls the hospitals owned by the Moretti family, access to the airport, security at the port, and most of the private clinics. If I ask for a divorce now, he'll just think something set me off."

The woman in the mirror was pale, but her eyes were strangely clear.

"I need to fake my death. I need him to believe I'm gone for good. That's the only way he'll stop keeping me trapped."

This time, Luca stayed quiet even longer.

Finally, he said, "Give me seven days."

I closed my eyes.

"Okay."