Chapter 2

It would take a week for the news of the bride change to make its way through the family's internal channels.

That whole week, all of Chicago's underworld was buzzing.

People said I'd actually given up a wedding that was right within my grasp.

Others said Sofia Colombo must have some serious pull—making Vincent swap brides right before he was set to take over.

I paid no mind to any of it.

On the fourth afternoon before the wedding, Vincent's most trusted man, Paul, showed up at the back door of my private clinic, carrying a brand-new Louis Vuitton suitcase.

"Miss Elena," Paul set the case on the marble reception desk, looking a little uneasy. "Mr. Vincent asked me to deliver this."

A few of the nurses exchanged glances.

Gina walked over from across the room, eyed the suitcase, and said with a smirk, "Well, the compensation came quick. At least he's thinking of you."

I flipped the latches open.

Inside: three top-grade cashmere shawls, a diamond necklace in a blue velvet box, several beautifully wrapped boxes of Belgian chocolates, two miniature pearl-handled pistols, some expensive caviar, and a few educational toys for kids.

Every piece was exquisite. Every piece was clearly meant for Sofia and her seven-year-old son, little Louie.

And at the very bottom, tucked under everything, was an old, worn brown leather notebook with curled edges.

That one—only that one—was for me.

Paul caught a glimpse of it and quickly looked away.

Gina gasped and clenched her fists.

I let out a bitter laugh. In my past life, I was dead set on marrying a man like this.

It wasn't that he didn't know how to pick gifts. He just couldn't be bothered to put any thought into me.

"Elena."

Sofia's voice came from the doorway.

She was wearing a light pink Chanel suit today, holding little Louie by the hand.

Her eyes landed on the open suitcase, lingered on the diamond necklace for a second, then filled with tears.

"Paul said the things were being delivered to you," she stepped inside, her voice soft. "About the wedding... I'm truly sorry. I said no, but Vincent said it was the only way to keep my father's port business intact and keep Louis and me safe. Please don't blame him—blame me if you have to."

She nudged her son. "Louis, say sorry to Aunt Elena."

The boy pouted, hid behind her, and shot me a hostile glare.

I pulled the old notebook from the bottom of the case and set it on the counter.

"Everything's here. Count it, and take it."

Sofia's rehearsed tears paused in her eyes. She glanced at the notebook in my hand and said, with a slight edge of defiance, "Elena, are you... are you really just keeping that? Is that all Vincent gave you?"

"It doesn't matter." I met her gaze calmly. "The wedding is yours anyway. The gifts were meant for you. None of it has anything to do with me anymore."

Sofia's face flushed slightly.

She pressed her lips together, finally muttered a quiet "thank you," motioned for Paul to pick up the suitcase, and hurried out of the clinic with her son.

Late that night, I went back to my penthouse overlooking the lake.

Every piece of it was decorated by my own hands.

In the liquor cabinet sat his favorite—Macallan 25.

I took the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and poured every drop of that dark golden liquid down the stainless steel sink.

I walked into the study, opened the hidden safe, and pulled out a plain titanium card with no markings on it.

Six months ago, at a secret auction in Vienna, the director of the Salk Institute had found me.

"Ms. Costa," he'd said back then, "your hands-on experience with nerve agent metabolism far surpasses any of our theoretical researchers. Chicago's businesses are wasting your talent. Come to Switzerland—we'll give you your own lab, an unlimited budget, and complete freedom."

At the time, all I could think about was the wedding. I turned him down.

Now I turned on the encrypted satellite phone and dialed the only number on the card.

Three rings later, the line connected.

"Tell the director I'm accepting the position. Under the terms he originally offered."

I let out a breath. Everything was in place. Just one last spark, and I was done.