The Mafia Heiress He Let Go

Valentina's POV

I thought I had finally escaped.

It had been three years since I left Russia, and for three years, I had managed to live like a normal woman. The smell of coffee and cookies had replaced gunpowder. Rome was supposed to be my fresh start, and at first, it was. Nobody knew my last name. Nobody knew the kind of family I came from. Nobody knew I was Don Vattelli's daughter.

I had built a normal life for myself. I had a beautiful apartment with an amazing view of the city, and every evening, I could sit by the window and watch the sunset without wondering who was watching me.

For the first time in my life, I had a job I actually loved. I was an art curator at one of the biggest galleries in town, the Faltails Gallery. I had worked hard to get there, and nobody had given me the position because of my father's name.

And in six months, I was supposed to marry the man I thought was my dream come true. Daniel.

He had walked into the gallery one sunny Tuesday to ask about a painting he wanted to buy. I explained everything about it, and he listened. Really listened. He didn't look bored or distracted, and for someone who had spent most of her life surrounded by people who only saw her as Don Vattelli's daughter, that meant more to me than it should have.

From then on, every Tuesday, he sent me flowers..

Just the thought of it made me smile.

"Good morning, princess."

Daniel's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Aren't you late for work?" he asked.

I realized I had been sitting in front of my dresser for the past thirty minutes.

"Oh my God."

I quickly got up, got dressed, and rushed straight for the door.

"Valentina," he called.

I paused.

"You didn't kiss me."

I smiled at him.

He walked over, placing a quick kiss on my lips and another on my forehead before I left.

"See you tonight."

"Don't be too late," I said.

He smiled.

"I won't."

Today was going to be a very long day.

When I got into the gallery, everything was already being arranged with careful precision.

More paintings had arrived, and for a moment, I just stood there, taking it all in.

The paintings were breathtaking.

Beautiful, rare, and ridiculously expensive.

"You do realize you are late, right?"

A voice came from behind me.

Lilian.

"I know," I said, turning slightly to face her. "And I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, management doesn't know," she replied quickly, lowering her voice. "But you'll have to make it up to me."

"How?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

She hesitated for a second before speaking.

"I need you to cover for me."

I blinked.

"Lilian, you know that isn't possible."

"You've done it before, Valentina. Please."

I let out a slow breath.

"Why? Where are you going?"

She smiled in that annoying, excited way of hers.

"I have a date with Grayson. And I don't want to miss it."

Her eyes practically glinted like a puppy.

"I think he's going to propose."

I stared at her for a moment, then shook my head. I wanted to say no. I really did. But Lilian was my friend, and I knew how much this date meant to her.

“Fine,” I sighed. “But you owe me big time.”

"I know," she said, already backing away like she couldn't get out fast enough.

By 7 p.m., the guests started arriving one after the other. The private event was bigger than I had expected, and several important people had arrived earlier than scheduled. I remember wondering why management had been so desperate to have everything perfect tonight.

I moved between them to make sure everyone had drinks, answering their questions, fixing small issues before they became big ones, and making sure no one knew Lilian wasn't around.

Everything had to be perfect tonight.

Managing the gallery while covering for Lilian was exhausting.

My feet were killing me, my head was pounding so loudly it felt like it would fall off, and I hadn't even had a proper break.

But she was my friend.

And somehow, I always ended up helping.

I exhaled slowly, forcing another polite smile as I stepped back into the crowd.

The auction started, and I stood behind watching as people bid, spending millions of dollars.

By 10 p.m., most of the guests had left, and I was finally free to go. I could have waited for one of the other staff members to finish cleaning up, but I was exhausted and wanted to get home. So I decided to lock up the gallery myself.

And Daniel—he had texted me earlier that he would be making pasta.

I couldn't wait to eat and be in his arms.

I locked the gallery and stepped outside.

I took the shortcut I always used because I didn't feel like taking the longer route to the main road. It was dark, but I wasn't afraid. I had used that path countless times before, and nothing had ever happened to me there.

But before I could make it to the other side, I heard a man's voice.

I stopped.

My body reacted before my mind could understand what was happening. I quickly pressed my back against the wall.

From the weak light coming from the other side of the alley, I could see three men.

One of them stood beside a black car.

The other two were facing him. Then the taller man pulled out a gun. He pointed it at the man's head. And pulled the trigger.

Bang!

The sound echoed through the alley.

That sound was so familiar, I had heard it too many times growing up. I couldn't move.

For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the body.

Everything was quiet. Then one of the men turned.

Our eyes met.

My heart stopped again. He had seen me.

Before I could even think, I ran.

"Hey!"

I heard footsteps running behind me. They were coming after me.

I didn't dare look back but I could hear them getting closer.

I ran until my lungs burned, then threw myself toward the first taxi I saw.

"Drive!"

The driver looked at me in confusion.

"Where to?"

"Just drive!"

He stepped on the gas.

I turned around and looked through the back window.

I couldn't see them anymore.

My breathing was heavy and my heart was racing so fast.

I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to calm myself down.

“You're safe,” I whispered to myself. “Just go home. Don't tell anyone. Don't get involved.”

But even as I said it, I knew I wasn't going to forget.

When I got to my apartment building, I quickly paid the taxi driver and made my way straight inside.

When I opened the door, everywhere smelled of pasta and my favorite sauce.

The apartment was quiet, which meant Daniel was asleep.

I took off my shoes quickly and made my way to the bathroom.

For three years, I had done everything I could to stay away from my old life. I had changed my name, kept my family a secret, and built a life where nobody knew who I really was.

And now those men had seen my face. I couldn't stop thinking about it.

What if they came looking for me?

What if they knew who I was?

What if—

I stopped myself.

No.

I was safe.

I had to be.

When I was done with my bath, I went back to the room and lay down beside Daniel.

He mumbled something in his sleep before stretching his arm to pull me closer.

I allowed myself to melt into his embrace.

For a few seconds, everything felt normal again.

I was tired, and I needed rest.

I told myself I would deal with it in the morning. Maybe I had misunderstood what I saw.

Maybe they hadn't seen me clearly.

Maybe, if I stayed quiet, everything would disappear.

When I opened my eyes again, morning had come quicker than I expected.

Sunlight streamed in through the curtains.

I reached for Daniel on the other side of the bed, but he wasn't there.

Immediately, I got up and made my way to the living room.

There he was.

He was watching the news, coffee in hand as he listened.

I stood behind the couch but Daniel didn't notice me immediately.

“Early this morning, authorities discovered the body of Senator Donny Clifford near Via Lenore District,” the news anchor said.

My blood ran cold. I slowly stepped closer to the television. The picture of the dead senator appeared on the screen.

It was him. The man I had watched die.

“Authorities believe the murder may have been connected to organized crime. Investigators are currently searching for witnesses who may have been in the area at the time of the shooting.”

My heart stopped. “Witnesses?”

They were looking for me. I took a step backward. Then my phone rang.

I stared at the unknown number on the screen. My hands started shaking.

I didn't know who was calling.

But somehow, I already knew it wasn't good news.