로그인One year later.Julian and I held a small, private wedding in Iceland.Only three people sat in the pews: The Cleaner, who had erased my identity; the old doctor who helped me nurse my health back; and my neighbor from the shop next door.Julian stood at the altar. He had traded the dark grey coats he usually wore for a sharp, jet-black suit."The Cleaner brought news from New York," Julian said in a low voice. He had no intention of keeping secrets from me, not even during the ceremony.Dante Moretti was gone—completely out of his mind.He was currently at St. Mary’s Psychiatric Hospital in Connecticut. The security there was tighter than it had ever been at the Moretti estate.The photos in the briefing showed the once-invincible Don wearing a blue hospital gown, skeletal and wasted away, clawing incessantly at a blank white wall. The doctors said he suffered from severe hallucinations and cognitive breakdown.He refused to eat. He spent every day by the window, screaming my name
The black sand beach of Vik looked like a scorched wasteland. The polar wind whipped fine grit against my face, stinging my skin.I heard a soft rustling behind me—the sound of leather shoes crunching over pebbles.I thought it was Julian.I was ready to turn around and smile, but then I caught a scent in the air. A faint mix of cheap hard liquor and aged cigars. I froze.That smell used to be my greatest comfort; now, it was a death sentence."Elena."The voice was low and raspy. I slowly turned around and saw the man who had once dominated my entire destiny.Dante Moretti stood less than five meters away.He had changed. The untouchable Don who ruled New York with an iron fist, the man who was always impeccably dressed, was gone. The man before me was skeletal. His once-bespoke suit hung loosely off his frame. His eyes were sunken, his jaw covered in messy stubble, and those eyes—once as sharp as a hawk’s—were now filled with a terrifying mix of madness and desperation."I finally
Julian stayed in Vik for another week. He didn't leave immediately like he said he would; instead, he used his connections within the FBI to filter out several waves of inquiries coming from New York.That afternoon, I headed over to his rented cabin carrying a thermos of freshly made lamb stew.Julian was sitting by the window. When he saw me come in, he closed his laptop and took the container from my hands."There's news from New York," he said calmly, ladling out the soup. "Dante isn't doing well. Ever since he moved into that lighthouse, the Moretti family’s operations have ground to a halt. The other families in New York have already started picking at his territory. The Commission is beyond pissed.""What about Sophia?""Loan sharks found her," Julian replied, his tone devoid of pity."Dante cut off every cent of financial support. She racked up a massive debt in Brooklyn. I heard she’s hiding out in a basement in the slums now, too terrified to even step outside."I remain
I spent six months in this small Icelandic town.I rented a wooden cottage facing the street and opened a flower shop."Welcome," I said without looking up, struggling to prune a bundle of thorny red roses."Elena."It was a gentle male voice, laced with a hint of disbelief.My hand jerked, and the sharp blade of the shears sliced right through my fingertip.I hadn't heard that name in half a year.I slowly raised my head. The man standing in the doorway wore a dark grey cashmere overcoat and a thick plaid scarf. There was a scholarly air about him that looked completely out of place against the rugged, frozen landscape.It was Julian.Back before I ever entered the Moretti world, when I was still attending that private high school in Manhattan, he was my seatmate. Back then, he was the only person who didn't shun me for being an orphan."You have the wrong person, sir. My name is Claire."Julian didn’t leave. He reached back and closed the door, his eyes cutting through the bouquet
I woke up in the cargo hold of a freighter heading for international waters.The Cleaner looked at me and said, "Dante Moretti found 'you' on a sandbar two miles downstream. He snapped on the spot—knelt in the mud clutching that corpse and refusing to let go. He even forgot to turn off the live-stream cameras.""Did he find the phone?""He did." The Cleaner let out a mocking smirk. "Arnold fished it out from the gap in your mattress back at the estate.The screen was shattered, but it still worked. Word is, when Dante saw what was in that album, he coughed up blood right then and there."I closed my eyes, practically visualizing the scene.He would see exactly how his mistress had been trampling on my dignity every single night while he was busy acting concerned for me."What’s he doing now?""He stormed the hospital." The Cleaner tucked away his butterfly knife."Half an hour ago, the Moretti private clinic was surrounded. He didn't bring any backup; he went in alone."At the More
Dante Moretti lost his bride in front of the entire world."Let me go! Let me go!"Dante roared, his body nearly dangling over the edge. His eyes were bloodshot, and he struggled like a maniac, trying to tear himself away from the grip of his bodyguards. His right-hand man, Arnold, held him by the waist in a death grip, even resorting to pressing a pistol grip against the back of Dante’s head to stop him from actually following me into that death zone.The live signal had been cut,but the image of the Don kneeling and wailing before the eyes of the globe had already become an indelible stain on the Moretti family’s honor.Dante stayed at the cliff’s edge for three days and three nights.He didn't eat. He didn't drink. He just let the rain soak through his black wedding tuxedo. He stood there like a soul-less statue, staring fixedly at the river downstream. Anyone who tried to approach was forced back by his murderous glare.It wasn't until the fourth day that the search and rescu







