Elena POV:
I awoke some time after nightfall to the sound of the heavy front door clicking shut. It was a small, mechanical noise I had not been able to perceive for a decade, and yet, I knew precisely whose bed Alessandro was now seeking.
I sat up in the darkness and turned on the bedside lamp.
A stack of gold-embossed wedding invitations sat on the dresser-heavy, expensive paper that bound me to a man of no substance.
I picked up my telephone and opened my contacts, my thumb hovering over the screen before I scrolled to my uncle's name.
He ran a massive, legitimate enterprise in London, a respectable front for the Family's affairs abroad.
In the days after my parents' funeral, he had invited me to live with him and my grandparents.
I had refused that sanctuary then, captive to a blind, girlish devotion for Alessandro.
With a hand that shook, I composed a message to my uncle.
I told him I wished to leave the Family territory; I told him I wished to live with them in London.
The response came almost at once.
My uncle typed back, asking what was wrong, demanding to know if I had been harmed.
My vision blurred, making the keyboard swim. I pressed the voice record button and held the device close to my mouth.
Tears spilled over my lashes and rolled, hot, down my cheeks as I spoke.
I told him only that I missed them.
The screen showed he was typing for a long, agonizing time.
Then, instead of a message, his name appeared, signaling a call.
I answered and put the telephone to my ear, a gesture my body had unlearned.
My uncle's voice was thick with shock the moment he understood I was not reading his lips but hearing his words.
He demanded to know the state of my hearing and my safety.
I confessed that my hearing had returned that morning.
Through a choked sob, I told him I needed to get out of New York.
My uncle, knowing well the volatile consequences of a broken mafia union, did not ask for details. He told me he was booking a one-way flight for the day of the wedding.
He said he would provide a true fortress of love and protection the moment my feet touched British soil.
After the call ended, I looked at the messages on my screen, and a deep remorse washed over me.
I had abandoned my own blood for a man who saw me as mere collateral.
I stayed awake for hours, staring into the shadows.
Just before dawn, the bedchamber door opened softly, and Alessandro slipped into the bed beside me.
His skin reeked of the cold city air and the acrid tang of gunpowder.
Beneath that violence, he carried the unmistakable scent of Sophia's floral perfume.
He reached out to pull me into his possessive embrace, but I shrank from his touch.
I rolled over and faced the window.
For the first time in ten years, my mind was entirely clear.
I closed my eyes and at last fell into a peaceful sleep.
