It took me two days to recover enough to walk without stumbling. I spent those days barricaded in the guest room, locked away, consuming nothing but tap water and stale protein bars I had stashed in my bag.
The fever had incinerated the last of my delusions. The cold of the pool had frozen my heart into something solid, jagged, and sharp.
I wasn't a daughter. I wasn't a fiancée. I was a loose end.
On the third morning, I dressed in a nondescript grey suit. I applied heavy makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes and the deathly pale tint of my skin.
I drove to the US Consulate.
The meeting had been arranged through encrypted channels months ago—a fail-safe I had hoped never to use. But the Moretti family had powerful connections, and I was finally calling in a favor.
The consular officer handed me a thick envelope. Inside was a passport. The photo was mine, but the name was different.
*Elena Moretti.*
"It’s done," the officer said, his voice low. "Your flight is scheduled for Friday night. The extraction team will meet you at the hangar."
"Thank you," I said, tucking the envelope into my inner jacket pocket. It sat against my ribs like a second heart, beating with the promise of freedom.
I drove back to the estate. As I approached the gates, a convoy of black SUVs passed me, heading out. Luca’s convoy.
I tensed, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. Through the tinted window of the lead car, I saw his profile. He was looking at his phone, frowning. He didn't even glance at my car.
He didn't care where I had been. He was so arrogant, so sure of his ownership over me, that the idea of me leaving didn't even register as a possibility in his mind.
That night, Luca returned home unexpectedly.
I was in the kitchen, drinking tea, staring at the blank wall.
"Where were you today?" he asked, tossing his keys on the counter. The metal clattered loudly in the silence. "The tracker on your car showed you went downtown."
"Forensic accounting seminar," I lied smoothly. The lie tasted sweet on my tongue. "Updating my certification."
He nodded, accepting it instantly. "Of course. Always working."
He walked over and stood behind me. His hands came up to rest on my shoulders. I forced myself not to flinch. His touch, once the only thing I craved, now felt like a brand.
"I missed you," he murmured, burying his face in my hair.
I froze. He missed me? After watching me drown for five hours?
"Let's watch a movie," he suggested, pulling away and heading to the living room. "Like old times. Before all this stress with Sofia."
I followed him like a ghost. We sat on the couch. He put on some action movie. He put his arm around me, pulling me into his side.
I sat there, rigid. Tears began to stream down my face, silent and hot.
I wasn't crying because I loved him. I was crying for the girl who used to love him. I was mourning her. She had died in that pool.
Luca glanced at me. He saw the tears. He sighed, checking his Rolex.
"You're so emotional lately, Elena. It’s exhausting."
He stood up, turning off the TV.
"By the way, tomorrow is Sofia's 'Welcome to the Family' gala. I need you to buy her a gift. Something expensive. Put it on your card; I’ll reimburse you."
He didn't wait for an answer. He walked toward the stairs.
"Make sure it’s wrapped nicely," he called back. "She likes shiny things."
I sat in the dark living room, the silence pressing in on me.
I would give her a gift, alright. I would give them all a gift.
I stood up and walked to my office. I opened the safe and took out the black ledger. The real one. Not the decoy I had shown Luca.
This was the gift. The ruin of the Russo empire, wrapped in numbers and ink.
I went upstairs, packing a single bag. I didn't need clothes. I didn't need jewelry.
I just needed to survive until Friday.
