The Attempted Escape

Rosario’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of surprise—and something darker—passing across her face. Jealousy. “Why so soon?” she asked, her tone dripping with suspicion, the edges laced with bitterness.

Luca kept his gaze lowered, as if the answer might be written somewhere on the carpet. He searched for words but came up empty. He couldn’t even convince himself why the Ice King—who could have any woman in Italy, and beyond—would waste his time on a girl like Lidia. She wasn’t a socialite or a beauty queen, didn’t have a famous name or a fortune to her credit. She was barely out of university, unpolished in manner and inexperienced in life.

“At least,” Rosario pressed, her brows knitting together, “did he tell you why he wants her?”

Luca gave a slow shake of his head. “His right-hand man refused to say.” Then his tone shifted, turning smooth, coaxing. “Come to think of it, you’ve always wanted her gone. Isn’t this the perfect opportunity to finally send her out of the house?”

Rosario’s lips twisted in thought. “I’ve wanted her gone, yes…” she admitted reluctantly. “But not handed over to the most powerful man in the country. What if—” she paused, lowering her voice, “—what if she becomes his wife? Don’t you think he’ll find out how we’ve treated her? We could be in danger.”

“Don’t worry, my darling.” Luca’s voice was soft now, the kind of smoothness that came with manipulation. “The Ice King wouldn’t settle for a miserable girl like Lidia. He probably wants her for some dirty job, nothing more.”

He needed her to agree. This wasn’t just business—it was ambition wrapped in desperation. He had been chasing this contract for years, and nothing—not blood, not morality—was going to stand in his way.

When the Ice King’s man had asked him what he could offer in exchange, Luca had hesitated. But then Lidia’s name had slipped out, almost on instinct. And in that moment, the man’s expression had shifted—interested, calculating. The answer had been instant: deal accepted.

The moment Luca was told it was done, a surge of triumph had rushed through him. The contract was worth millions, enough to catapult him into the upper circles of wealth and power.

“But why,” Rosario murmured, her voice tightening, “do I feel worried? Hesitant?”

Luca leaned forward, lowering his voice into something conspiratorial. “We could use her, my love. Once she’s with him, we can get more contracts from the Ice King. He owns thousands of companies, has shares in every major business here. This is a door we can’t let close.”

Rosario’s gaze faltered. She was torn—caught between fear of the man and greed for the opportunities his name could bring.

“You’re tired,” Luca said gently. “Tomorrow you’ll see things more clearly. Let’s go to bed.”

He stood, offering his hand like a gentleman in a ballroom, and pulled her from the couch. He slipped his arm around her waist, steering her toward the bedroom with practiced ease.

Once inside, his performance began—arms curling around her from behind, his lips pressing slow, calculated kisses along her neck. It wasn’t love; it was strategy. If he could make her feel desired, she would be easier to persuade.

From her hiding place under the dining table, Lidia’s hands trembled. She pressed one over her mouth to trap the sob that threatened to escape. Her chest ached, her body shaking—not just from fear, but from the bitterness of confirmation.

Her uncle was the one who had offered her up.

He’s selling me… for money.

The truth hit with the force of a slap. She had suspected it from the moment she’d overheard the news about the Ice King’s contract. A man like her uncle didn’t get opportunities like that without giving something in return.

And now, the price was her.

Her uncle’s words echoed through her mind, cold and final: The Ice King wants Lidia tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Less than a night to escape.

Her thoughts shot to Erika. Her best friend was still waiting for her, still expecting her to arrive. If she could just get there, she could be safe—at least for now.

She eased herself out from under the table, heart pounding hard enough to feel in her fingertips, and crept toward her room. The backpack she had prepared earlier sat exactly where she’d left it, leaning against the bed. She snatched it up and tiptoed down the hallway toward the back door.

The metal latch gave a soft, satisfying click, and cool night air rushed against her skin like freedom’s first touch. The faint scent of damp earth and gasoline drifted from the driveway.

The gate loomed ahead in the moonlight, tall and iron-black. For the first time all day, hope flared in her chest.

I’m really going to be free.

She clutched the bag tighter and reached inside for her phone, ready to call Erika, to tell her she was coming.

Her fingers brushed only fabric.

Her breath caught. She dug deeper, pulling at every zipper, every seam. Still nothing.

Panic prickled across her skin.

No. No, no, no.

She must have left it in her room. Without it, she couldn’t call Erika. She couldn’t call anyone. She couldn’t even order a cab.

Her heartbeat quickened until it drowned out the night sounds. She could almost see the consequences of getting caught, could almost hear Rosario’s voice dripping venom, could feel the sting of her blows.

But she had no choice.

She turned back toward the house, every step measured and silent. The creak of a floorboard sounded like a gunshot in the still air.

In her room, the phone lay on the bed, face down, as though mocking her. She grabbed it and shoved it into her bag, her fingers clumsy with urgency.

She hurried back to the stairs, every muscle taut, her mind already at the gate, already imagining the streetlights outside and the sweet, cold air of escape.

She was halfway down when it happened.

A voice cracked through the silence like a thunderclap.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

It wasn’t loud—it was worse than loud. It was calm, sharp, and dripping with danger.

She froze mid-step, the blood draining from her face.

The house seemed to close in around her, every shadow stretching long and dark.

Her blood turned to ice.

And just like that, the hope she’d been clinging to shattered into dust.