Chapter 21 Giuliana #2
I pull up my messages and start typing frantically, my fingers shaking. But the words won’t send. Won’t even try to send.
Message failed. Recipient blocked.
I try again. Same result.
A scream of pure frustration tears from my throat as I realize that Luca disabled texting. I can’t call for help or coordinate with anyone outside these walls.
I throw the phone across the room, watching it crack against the wall with savage satisfaction.
Fine. Fine. I’ll do this alone.
I pace the room, my mind racing through possibilities. The estate layout I’ve memorized during weeks of supervised walks. The guard rotation patterns I noticed without really meaning to. The blind spots in camera coverage that I looked at thinking it was just cautious awareness.
All that information I gathered is suddenly useful in a way I never intended.
There’s a gap in coverage along the eastern wall, where the trees grow close enough to create shadows the cameras can’t penetrate. The guard shift changes at nine p.m., and there’s always a brief window of confusion during the handoff.
If I could create a distraction. Something to draw attention away from that section of wall…
My eyes fall on the fireplace in the bedroom. Old-fashioned, decorative, but functional.
An hour later, another knock. This time softer, more tentative.
“Mrs. Marchetti?” Linnea’s voice, but I still recoil at the name. “I brought you some water and crackers. I’ll just leave them outside the servant’s door.”
I stay silent. Wait. A few minutes pass. Then —
A soft creak.
I spin around just in time to see the servant’s door inch open.
“Don’t come in!” My voice cracks. “Don’t—”
Linnea freezes in the doorway, her hands lifted in apology. “I’m sorry—I just thought you might need help. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
My pulse roars in my ears. I’ve piled furniture in front of the main door, but of course I didn’t think to block the staff entrance. Stupid. So stupid.
“Leave the tray and go,” I manage, backing away. “Please.”
She does. Quietly. The door clicks shut again.
I wait. Ten full seconds. Then twenty. Only when I’m sure she’s gone do I edge forward, lock the handle, and slide a chair beneath it for good measure.
I need to survive this. For me, yes, but also for the tiny life growing inside me. This baby deserves a chance. He or she deserves a life away from the violence and revenge that defines its father’s world.
By the time night falls, my plan is as ready as it’s going to be.
I find some clothes still in the closet—jeans, black sweater, and running shoes. I braid my hair back tight so nothing will catch or get in my way. My mind flashes to the pregnancy test in my jewelry box in Luca’s room. My breath catches and my heart sinks to my toes.
The evidence of life growing inside of me. If Luca finds that test…I shudder at the thought.
Hopefully by the time he ransacks my things and finds the test, I’ll have disappeared and he won’t ever be able to find me or my baby.
I carefully dismantle my barricade, moving furniture as quietly as possible. Each scrape of wood against the floor makes me wince, but no one comes to investigate.
The hallway is empty when I peer out. The guard who usually patrols this wing must be elsewhere.
I slip into the corridor, my heart hammering so hard I’m sure someone will hear it. Every shadow makes me freeze, every sound of the house settling makes me think I’ve been caught.
But I keep moving. Down the servants’ staircase instead of the main one, where I’m less likely to be seen. Through the kitchen where only a single light burns—Ramirez must have finished for the night and gone to his room.
The door to the garden is unlocked, and I slip through into the cold night air that hits my overheated skin. I breathe it in deeply, tasting freedom for the first time in far too long.
Not yet. Not until I’m past those gates.
I move through the shadows, keeping low, using every bit of cover I can find. The trees along the eastern wall loom ahead, dark and promising. The blind spot in camera coverage. My only chance.
I’m halfway across the lawn when I hear it—voices from the front gate. The shift change happening right on schedule.
I sprint the last twenty yards to the tree line, my lungs burning with exertion and fear. Behind me, the house remains dark and quiet, oblivious to my escape.
I reach the trees and press myself against the trunk of an old oak, trying to catch my breath. From here, I can see the section of wall I need to scale. It’s lower here where the groundskeepers need access, maybe eight feet instead of twenty. I can make it. I have to make it.
I look back at the house one last time. At the beautiful prison that’s held me for so long. At the windows of Luca’s study, dark now because he’s probably—
I don’t let myself finish that thought. I don’t let myself care where he is or what he’s doing or whether he’s grieving what he destroyed.
I turn away and start climbing.
The wall is old stone, rough enough to provide handholds. My fingers find purchase in cracks and crevices, my running shoes gripping against the surface. Each pull upward sends pain shooting through muscles not accustomed to this kind of exertion, but I grit my teeth and keep going.
Almost there. Almost—
“Dr. Conti! Stop!”
Danny’s voice is sharp with alarm. I don’t look back or stop climbing. Just four more feet. Three. Two—
My hand closes over the top of the wall, my body hauling itself up through sheer desperation. I can see the other side now, the darkness beyond that means freedom, means safety, means—
A hand closes around my ankle.
“No!” I scream as I try to kick free, fear enveloping me. “Let go! Let go!”
“I’m sorry,” Danny says, and he actually sounds like he means it. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Conti. But I can’t let you leave.”
I cling to the top of the wall with both hands, my legs dangling as Danny pulls from below. The rough stone scrapes my palms bloody, but I don’t let go. I can’t let go. This is my only chance, my only hope—
“Please,” I sob, still fighting even though I know it’s futile. “Please, Danny, just let me go. Just let me go.”
“I can’t.” His voice is gentle but firm as he pulls harder. “I can’t, and you know why.”
My grip finally fails, my bloody hands losing their hold on the stone. I fall backward into Danny’s arms, still fighting, still trying to break free even though he’s twice my size and trained for exactly this kind of thing.
“Why?” The word comes out as a wail. “Why can’t you just let me go? I won’t tell anyone anything, I’ll just disappear, I’ll—”
“Because the boss would tear Chicago apart looking for you,” Danny says quietly, already pulling me back toward the house. “And a lot of innocent people would get hurt in the crossfire. I can’t let that happen.”
I try to fight him, try to wrench myself free, but it’s useless. He’s too strong, too well-trained, and I’m just—
I’m just a veterinarian who thought she could outsmart a crime lord.
The fight drains out of me all at once, leaving me limp in Danny’s grip. He carries me more than walks me through the gardens, past the kitchen, up the servants’ stairs. Past everything I tried so hard to escape.
Each step back into the house feels like a nail in my coffin.
We reach the main hallway, heading toward—
Luca’s study. Of fucking course. Where else would he be?
Danny knocks once, briefly, before pushing the door open without waiting for a response.
Luca is there, standing by the window, his posture rigid. He turns as we enter, and the expression on his face…
I don’t care. I don’t care if he looks devastated or guilty or relieved or anything else. He doesn’t get to feel things about this. He doesn’t get to care that I tried to escape.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” The words burst from him as he stalks toward me, his eyes wild. “You could have been killed! Do you have any idea how many threats are out there? How many people would love to get their hands on you?”
“Oh, now you care about people wanting to kill me?” I wrench myself out of Danny’s grip now that we’re inside, backing away from Luca. “That’s rich, coming from the man who was planning my murder!”
“I wasn’t going to—” He stops, runs both hands through his already disheveled hair. “The plan changed, Gigi. I told you that!”
“You told me lies!” My voice rises to a scream. “You told me we had a future! You told me my father was safe! You told me you—” The word sticks in my throat and I nearly gag on them. “You told me you loved me.”
The color drains from his face. “I do love you—”
“Liar!” I’m backing up until my spine hits the wall, trying to put distance between us even though there’s nowhere to go. “You’re a fucking liar and I’m done listening to you! I’m done believing anything that comes out of your mouth!”
Luca’s face twists with something that might be pain, but I don’t care. I don’t care what he feels.
“Then what do you want from me?” His voice cracks. “What can I possibly do to make you believe—”
“Nothing,” I say with finality. “There’s nothing you can do. You destroyed us, Luca. You destroyed any chance we had the moment you decided my life was worth less than your revenge.”
I see something crumble in his expression. He reaches for me even though he must know I’ll pull away.
And that’s when I decide.
Right there, in that moment, I decide to hurt him the way he’s hurt me. To take the one thing he’s been searching for and use it as a weapon.
Because if I’m trapped here, if I can’t escape, then at least I can make sure he understands exactly what he’s lost. Make sure he knows that whatever we had is dead, killed by his own hands.
He closes the distance, hand outstretched. His fingers brush my wrist—just a touch—and when he looks down his face goes slack. My palms are raw and red; blood has caked into the creases. A streak runs from my thumb and smears across the inside of his wrist where his sleeve knocks against me.
He jerks back as if burned. “Gigi—”
I don’t let him finish. I step back enough to lift my hands so he can’t look away. “You want to know who really killed Marco?” I tell him tauntingly, viciously. “You really want to know? I’m surprised you’ve never figured it out, honestly.”
Luca goes completely still. His hands freeze mid-reach, his entire body locking into immobility. Even his breathing seems to stop.
“What are you talking about?” His voice is barely audible.
“Salvatore Romano.” I let the name drop between us like the bomb it is, watching it detonate across Luca’s face.
“I recognized his voice that first night at the gathering. The same voice I heard on my father’s phone three years ago, giving orders.
The same voice that called Marco’s death ‘acceptable collateral damage.’”
The color drains from Luca’s face so completely I think he might actually collapse. His mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out. I see the twitch in his jaw, the flicker of disbelief in his eyes as the truth claws its way in.
Behind him, I hear Danny’s sharp intake of breath.
“You knew.” Luca’s voice is deadly quiet now, shaking with barely controlled fury. His hands are fists at his sides, knuckles white. “You’ve known it was Romano this entire time.”
“Yes.” I lift my chin, refusing to back down even though every instinct is screaming that I’ve just made a terrible mistake.
“I lied when you asked if I recognized the voice on the recording. I did. I knew it was him the entire time. You wasted your time when Marco’s murderer was in front of you the entire time. ”