Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 1 - Chapitre 9

I went home and started packing my things.An hour later, my fiancé Brian walked through the door. He spotted my suitcase by the bed, and a scoff escaped his throat.He hissed, "Running away again? Elena, we've been together four years. Every time we fight, you pack your suitcase and threaten to leave. Aren't you tired of that act?" His jaw tightened. "All because I pushed the wedding back? You're blowing this way out of proportion. It's ten days, Elena. Ten days. It's not like I'm not going to marry you at all."His tone was laced with impatience.But I didn't flinch."I'm not running away," I said calmly. "I'm just sorting through my things."I finished the sentence silently in my head: So I could leave you for good.Brian tugged at his tie, loosening the knot with a careless flick of his wrist. "Well, since you're tidying up anyway, why don't you get the guest room ready? Daisy's been feeling down, and she needs someone around. She's going to stay with us for a while."I pushed the

When I woke, the date on my phone screen told me two full days had passed.I grabbed it from the nightstand. The notification screen was pristine—no missed calls, no texts, no trace that anyone had looked for me.I stared at that empty white bar for a long moment, then slowly placed the phone face‑down on the nightstand. n the past, if I didn't reply to Brian's texts within two hours, he would call so many times that my phone battery died.Now, after two days in this hospital bed, he hadn't sent so much as a single "how are you."That was all the answer I needed.I pulled the IV needle from my hand—a sharp sting that I barely registered—peeled back the blanket, and swung my legs off the bed.The nurse who pushed through the door startled at the sight and tried to block me. I waved her off, muttering that it was just a few surface cuts, nothing serious.Stepping out of the hospital, the early‑summer wind hit my face, thick with the mingled scents of exhaust fumes and plane‑tree leaves.

Brian pulled out his phone again and dialed Elena. The line rang and rang, then died into voicemail.He immediately dialed his assistant’s number and barked into the phone, "Elena is gone. I need you to find out where she is!"Twenty minutes later, his phone buzzed. He answered, and the assistant's voice came through, clipped and urgent. "Sir, we've traced Miss Rossi's movements. She booked a flight north last night—departed just after midnight. After that, the trail goes cold. She may have changed her name."Brian walked to the window and looked down at the empty plot below. The soil was still damp, dark and raw, like a wound that had just been torn open."Find her," he said, his voice rough and low. "Whatever it takes. Find her."A month later, Brian sat in his office, staring at a stack of investigative reports spread across his desk.Every page told the same story: nothing.Elena had vanished as completely as if she'd been plucked from the earth. No credit card transactions. No hot

I stepped out of the car, and the butler was already standing beneath the portico. Finally, I had come back to the home I hadn't set foot in for years."Miss Rossi." The butler inclined his head. "Your father is waiting in the study."I nodded and followed him into the manor. My heels clicked against the marble floor of the foyer.The sound carried me back to a different time—when I was still a little girl in pigtails, running through these halls with scraped knees and laughter that bounced off the high ceilings.My father, the mafia head of the Rossi family, would sit in the leather armchair by the fireplace, his stern face softening the moment he saw me. He'd scoop me onto his lap and say, "My daughter will find happiness one day. And whoever dares to make her sad will answer to the Rossi family."My eyes stung at those memories.The study sat at the far end of the third floor. I pushed open the door, and the familiar scent of cigar smoke washed over me.My father sat in his high‑bac

The room was thick with tension.At that moment, the dressing room door swung open from the outside.Luca stepped in. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit today, a white rose pinned to his lapel—every inch the composed, steady don I'd come to know.His gaze swept over Brian, pausing for a second, then shifted to me, and the hardness in his eyes melted into something soft.He didn't ask questions. He simply crossed the room, slipped an arm around my shoulder, and bent his head to look at me. "Are you all right?"I nodded and leaned into him. "I'm fine."Luca lifted his eyes to Brian. The temperature in his gaze dropped to freezing.Brian stiffened under that gaze. I could see it in the way his shoulders locked, the way his breath caught. The air in the room thickened, heavy with unspoken warning.Luca dialed a number. Two soldiers appeared in the doorway in a minute, waiting for the signal."Take him out," Luca said. His voice was low, unhurried, but it carried the weight of absolute