Alessia woke up in the hospital, groggy and disoriented. Her first thought was Nicholas. She asked the doctor, “Where’s my husband?” hoping he’d been waiting for her.
The doctor gave her a sympathetic look. “No one has come by, aside from a few bodyguards. I’m sorry.”
That was when it hit her—she was alone, as always. Nicholas wasn’t coming, and she wasn’t about to waste any more energy waiting for someone who never showed up. She’d given him enough chances. By the time she was discharged, Alessia knew exactly what she needed to do: leave.
She didn’t go home. What was the point? The house wasn’t hers anymore, not really. Nicholas hadn’t checked on her, hadn’t even called. Instead, she booked a quiet room at a hotel, packed light, and waited for her flight. It was freeing, in a bittersweet way.
Before leaving, she made one last call—to Nicholas’ mother.
“Thank you for everything,” Alessia said softly, her voice steady despite the emotions bubbling beneath. “You’ve been the only one who’s ever truly cared for me.”
Nicholas’ mother sounded heartbroken. “Alessia, I’m really sorry. I should have known but thank you for keeping up with those five years.”
“Please, promise me one thing,” she interrupted gently. “Don’t tell Nicholas where I’m going. Let me go in peace.”
“I will not,” she replied. “Be sure to take care of yourself, Alessia. Good luck.”
---
Alessia sat at the terminal, her fingers lightly tapping the armrest of the chair. The airport buzzed with the usual noise—announcements over the intercom, the shuffle of passengers, rolling suitcases on polished floors—but all she felt was a hollow stillness. Her boarding pass rested in her lap, the edges crumpled from her nervous grip.
She glanced at the large windows overlooking the runway, watching planes take off one by one. Each one felt like freedom, carrying her closer to a life away from Nicholas, away from disappointment. She inhaled deeply, her chest tightening as she fought the urge to cry.
Her phone buzzed in her bag. Alessia frowned, pulling it out. The name flashing on the screen made her stomach twist. Nicholas.
For a moment, she debated letting it ring. What could he possibly want now? But curiosity—or maybe masochism—got the better of her. She swiped to answer.
“Alessia,” Nicholas’ deep voice came through. “Is the banquet later all set?”
Her heart sank. Of course. No concern for her well-being, no questions about where she was or if she was okay after the hospital. Just business.
She forced a bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the air like a blade. “Why don’t you ask Ava?”
There was a pause on the line. Nicholas sounded caught off guard. “What are you talking about? I just need—”
“Don’t bother me again, Nicholas.” Her voice was cold. Before he could respond, she ended the call.
Back at the estate, chaos ruled under a thin veneer of elegance. Servers darted around, finalizing details for the evening banquet, while Ava stood in the center of it all, barking orders like she owned the place.
Her smirk gave her away, though. She’d intentionally skipped a few details Alessia had planned, subtle enough to sabotage but not enough to draw suspicion. If anything went wrong, Alessia would take the fall, even in her absence.
Nicholas stormed in, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. “Where’s Alessia?”
Ava didn’t even flinch, feigning a look of mild confusion. “I have no idea. Maybe she’s busy with other details?”
His jaw clenched as he turned to one of his men. “Find her. Now.”
The man nodded and disappeared. Nicholas faced Ava again. “Make sure everything is perfect tonight. I don’t want excuses.”
Ava tilted her head. “Of course, but Alessia was in charge of some things. If something’s missing, it’s probably not my fault.”
Nicholas’ glare was ice-cold. Without another word, he walked off, pulling out his phone. His thumb hovered over Alessia’s number before he pressed it, listening to the dial tone with growing impatience.
No answer. Again.
He cursed under his breath.
Later that night, the grand mafia banquet was in full swing. Guests milled around in glittering outfits, sipping champagne.
Nicholas, seated at the head of the table, swirled his glass of wine and took a sip. His brows furrowed immediately. "What is this?"
A waiter nervously stepped forward. "It’s the wine we were instructed to serve, sir."
Nicholas set the glass down with a thud. "Where’s the Conti 1945?"
The waiter stammered. "We... we were told not to include it. Madam Alessia gave the instructions."
Nicholas’ jaw tightened, his patience fraying. "Alessia?" He scanned the room, his sharp gaze searching for her. A cold realization crept over him—he hadn’t seen her all evening.
Standing abruptly, he barked at his men. "Find Alessia. Now."
The command sent his men scattering through the estate, combing every corner of the venue and its surroundings. But when they returned, each shook their head.
"No one’s seen her, boss," one of them reported.
Nicholas’ irritation turned to unease. He pulled out his phone, dialing her number. No answer. Again. The emptiness gnawed at him.
Moments later, his phone buzzed. It was his underboss, Eliseo.
"Boss, I have news,” the voice informed him.
“Where is she? Did you find her?” he asked, impatient.
“Alessia has a scheduled flight tonight.”
“A flight, to where?” He raised his brow. “And when is she coming back?”
“I don’t think she’s coming back, boss. It’s a one-way ticket."
