Sky
Two days later, Felix and Sofia were chatting and sipping wine in the front yard, ignoring me completely while barking orders for me to pack their things for the trip to Finland.
The excuse was still the same—that I had to serve Sofia well, even though the scar on her face had almost disappeared. Felix had taken her for expensive treatments, more diligently than he ever tried to find a cure for my legs.
I finished packing their suitcases—a task I didn’t actually put much effort into. Even when Felix warned me not to forget a single item, I didn’t care.
“Don’t forget Sofia’s favorite scarf, and Jayden’s fur coat. The weather will be freezing. I won’t hesitate to punish you if you miss anything.”
Instead, I packed my own suitcase. Important documents and personal items—I wasn’t going to leave any of them behind. Even assets Felix believed would forever be his—I had secured the papers.
Felix was so confident I would never leave that he didn’t even bother transferring the asset names under his.
Once everything was ready, I placed the divorce papers inside Felix’s suitcase. Along with a few memories: our modest wedding album—half of which I had already burned—and the velvet box containing our wedding rings.
Jayden’s suitcase, I deliberately left empty. They wouldn’t notice. Too busy to even touch the luggage they had assigned to me.
At 1 PM, everything was ready. We headed to the airport. They walked ahead, leaving me to struggle with three heavy suitcases alone.
Before the plane took off, I excused myself to go to the restroom. They didn’t care. My job was done.
I headed to the car parked in front of the airport. Dante arrived with my suitcase—just as I had instructed him to retrieve it from the house after we left.
“Ready?” he asked. I nodded.
Dante had arranged everything. A female aide helped me change clothes, disguising me from Felix and Sofia’s view. They didn’t even notice when I passed right by them.
They were too busy with Jayden. A picture-perfect family. If this role was what Sofia wanted so badly, then I’d hand it over willingly.
But one thing’s for sure—they had no future living happily beneath the shadow of my revenge.
Just as I was about to board the deLuca family’s private jet, my phone rang. The screen flashed the name I had expected: Felix Moretti.
I stared at the screen for a moment. It was ironic—this man who had shared years with me never even sensed the perfectly crafted escape I had set in motion.
Keeping my breath steady, I answered.
“What the hell is this, Sky?! You packed Sofia’s suitcase all wrong! And where the hell is her scarf? Bring it here—now!” His tone was sharp, barking like I was nothing but his servant. No concern. No question as to why I hadn’t returned. Just demands.
I bit back a bitter smile.
“I put it in your suitcase,” I said curtly.
Silence. Then the frantic sound of a zipper and rustling papers. Seconds later—
“Fuck! What the hell is this?!” His voice broke, almost choked.
I could imagine his face now—panic, rage, disbelief. He must’ve found the divorce papers and the velvet box holding the remnants of our so-called marriage.
“Felix Moretti,” I said softly but firmly, “go ahead and sign those papers. I am no longer your wife… not stupid little Sky. I am Alessia deLuca. See you again—” and welcome your downfall.
“What the hell do you mean—”
I hung up. I didn’t need to hear him anymore. His voice was nothing but background noise in the new life I was stepping into.
The phone he once gave me—something I used to cherish like a treasure—I threw into a trash bin near the runway. Instantly, the weight on my chest felt lighter.
Dante stepped forward, silent. His gaze was sharp yet warm. He bent down, and in one fluid motion—so effortless for someone with his strength—lifted me from my wheelchair.
That touch—warm, steady, protective. I could feel my heart pound, not from fear… but from the realization that for the first time in a long while, I felt safe.
I looked away, my face heating up. A strange fluttering climbed up inside me, tightening and waking parts of myself I thought long dead.
He carried me into the jet. The private room in the back, once my father’s sanctuary, looked like a painting of memory. A blend of luxury and dignity. The scent of leather and aged wood hung in the air, dragging me back to the days when I was still Alessia deLuca—the feared heiress.
Dante gently set me down on the black leather sofa. He leaned against the cabin wall, giving me that annoying, crooked smile of his.
“Looks like our little lady’s all grown up,” he teased with a soft chuckle. “You took down a man without even pulling a trigger.”
I rolled my eyes, though my heart was still racing.
“Felix wasn’t a hard target. He fell before I even aimed.”
Dante chuckled. “Ah, that’s the deLuca blood. No gun needed to shake the world.”
We fell silent. I looked out the window, watching the clouds thin as the jet moved farther from the land that had held all my pain.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, this time more seriously. “About the treatment?”
I nodded. “I don’t want to die trapped in a wheelchair. And not because I hate being paralyzed—but because I hate the reason behind it. Felix’s lies. The limits he set to keep me weak.”
Dante nodded, as if understanding even the words I hadn’t said.
“Remember your father’s old colleague in Switzerland? Dr. Veyner.” His voice was calm, laced with hope. “He’s not just the best neurosurgeon. He’s your father’s closest friend. If there’s anyone in this world who can help you walk again—it’s him.”
I stayed silent, the name echoing in my memory. Father had mentioned him once. Long ago, before everything fell apart.
“If he’s willing to help—then this is my first step toward rising again.”
Dante gave a small smile and handed me a glass of juice. “To the queen reclaiming her throne,” he said.
I took the glass and nodded slowly.
My time had come. Alessia deLuca had returned. Not to beg for love—but to make those who hurt me pay for every scar they thought I’d suffer in silence.
