Elena POV
For four hours, I remained anchored to the unforgiving plastic chair in the surgical waiting room.
I wasn’t sitting there waiting for news of his survival.
I already knew he would survive.
Men like Dante Vitiello didn’t meet their end in cheap barroom brawls. They died in wars.
No, I was waiting for Luca.
The lawyer arrived at 3:00 AM, looking as though he hadn’t slept in days. He looked disheveled, his tie askew as he clutched a leather briefcase to his chest.
"Elena," he whispered, sinking into the seat next to me. "I heard. Is he..."
"He's in recovery," I said, my voice steady. "The knife missed the major arteries. He'll have a scar, but he'll live."
Luca let out a shaky breath. "Thank God."
"Did you bring them?" I asked.
Luca hesitated. He looked at the closed doors of the recovery ward, conflict darkening his eyes.
"Elena, this is not the time. Your husband just got stabbed."
"My husband died a long time ago, Luca," I said, staring straight ahead. "The man in that room is Sofia's savior. Not mine."
I held out my hand.
Luca sighed, a sound of defeat. He opened his briefcase and pulled out a thick envelope.
"I pulled every string I had to fast-track it," he said softly. "The annulment papers are based on coercion and the lack of consummation over the last year. And the divorce decree is included as a backup. It just needs his signature, or... proof of abandonment."
"I signed my part," I said.
I took the envelope, feeling its weight.
I reached into my purse and pulled out a small velvet box.
Inside was my wedding ring.
The five-carat diamond felt heavier than a tombstone.
And beside it lay the simple gold band I had given him on our wedding day—the one he had taken off and left on the nightstand three months ago because it "irritated his skin."
I snapped the box shut with both rings inside.
"You're really going," Luca said. It was a statement, not a question.
"My flight leaves in two hours," I said.
"Where?"
"Don't ask," I said. "If you know, he'll beat it out of you."
Luca nodded grimly. "You're right. Go. Be safe, Elena."
I stood up.
My legs felt surprisingly steady.
I walked to the nurse's station.
"I need to leave this for Mr. Vitiello," I told the nurse. "When he wakes up."
She looked from the velvet box to the envelope, confusion knitting her brow.
"Are you his wife?" she asked.
"No," I said. "I'm nobody."
I placed the items on the counter.
I walked down the sterile white hallway.
The smell of antiseptic usually made me nauseous. Today, it smelled like clarity.
I walked out the automatic doors into the bleak pre-dawn gray.
New York was waking up.
The city that never sleeps was just beginning to stretch its aching limbs.
I got into the waiting taxi.
"JFK," I said. "International Terminal."
As the car pulled away, I didn't look back at the hospital.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket.
I opened the contacts.
Dante.
Delete.
Father.
Delete.
Enzo.
Delete.
I scrolled through the list of everyone who had ever made me feel small.
Delete. Delete. Delete.
I popped the SIM card out and rolled down the window.
With a flick of my wrist, I tossed the tiny chip onto the highway.
It bounced once before vanishing under the crushing wheels of a truck.
I leaned back against the seat.
For the first time in my life, I didn't know what was going to happen tomorrow.
I didn't have a plan.
I didn't have a protector.
I didn't have a family.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
It was the sweetest breath I had ever taken.
