Elena POV
I tried to leave the campus, but the press was already waiting at the gates.
Someone had tipped them off. It had to be Dante. He loved a spectacle.
Flashes blinded me like lightning strikes. Microphones were shoved aggressively in my face.
"Elena, did you steal from your sister?"
"Is it true you used her trauma to advance your career?"
"Are you jealous of the real heiress?"
I pushed through them, keeping my head down against the onslaught. "I’m not a thief," I said, my voice barely audible over the cacophony of shutter clicks.
A black sedan screeched to a halt at the curb. Frank Russo got out.
He looked like a grieving father. He looked like a man betrayed. It was an Oscar-worthy performance.
He marched up to me, parting the sea of reporters like a biblical figure.
"Dad," I started.
He slapped me.
The sound was loud, a sickening crack that silenced the crowd. My head snapped to the side. My cheek burned as if branded. I tasted the metallic tang of blood.
"How dare you!" Frank roared, shaking a finger in my face. "We took you in! We gave you a name! And this is how you repay us? By stealing from my own flesh and blood?"
I looked up at him. The cameras were rolling. This was a public execution.
"I disown you," Frank spat, his eyes cold despite the heat of his words. "You are no longer a Russo. You are nothing."
A bottle flew from the crowd. I didn't see who threw it. A student? A paid agitator?
It struck my temple with shattering force.
The world tilted violently. The grey pavement rushed up to meet me. Darkness swallowed the noise.
*
I woke up to the sharp smell of antiseptic. Again.
My head throbbed in rhythm with my heartbeat. I touched my temple; there was a bandage taped over the tender skin.
I looked around. No flowers. No family. Just a man sitting in the chair by the window, scrolling on his phone.
Luca.
He didn't look up when I stirred.
"You caused quite a scene," he said, his eyes still glued to the screen. "Frank is furious. The stock prices took a hit, but the sympathy for Sofia is polling high."
I sat up, the room spinning like a carousel.
"You stole my code," I rasped.
"I reallocated resources," he corrected, finally looking at me with a bored expression. "Stop being dramatic, Elena. The slap was necessary for optics. Frank didn't mean it."
"Didn't mean it?" I touched my cheek. It was still swollen.
He stood up and walked over to the bed. He looked annoyed, like I was wasting his time.
"Just lay low for a few months. Apologize publicly. Admit you borrowed Sofia’s notes. I’ll set you up in a nice apartment in the city. You can be my... private consultant."
He wanted me to be his mistress. His secret calculator. While he married the Princess.
I looked at the window. We were on the fourth floor.
I got out of bed. My legs were shaky.
"Where are you going?" Luca asked.
"To the bathroom," I lied.
He checked his watch. "Hurry up. Sofia is waiting for me to take her to dinner to celebrate her 'breakthrough.'"
I walked into the bathroom. I locked the door.
I didn't use the toilet. I opened the window. There was a fire escape.
I didn't have my purse. I didn't have my shoes. But I had the passport taped to my thigh under my skirt—a desperate contingency I had prepared this morning, knowing this day might come.
I climbed out into the cool night air.
I didn't look back. I climbed down, my bare feet hitting the cold metal grate.
I ran. I ran until my lungs burned and my head swam.
I hailed a cab with the emergency cash I kept in my bra.
"To the airport," I told the driver.
The city lights blurred past me. The Russo estate. The university. Luca.
I left them all in the rearview mirror.
