Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Elena
I didn't know where I was going, just ran on instinct. My tears had dried up, and I was shivering from the cold.
I don't know how long I'd been running when suddenly blinding headlights cut through the darkness ahead. I threw my arm up to shield my eyes. A black sedan screeched to a halt right in front of me. The door flew open, and a familiar figure rushed out.
"Elena?"
Through my blurred vision, I saw that face filled with panic and shock. It was Marco.
"Christ, it really is you!" He rushed over, pure worry in his eyes. "What happened?"
The moment I saw him, I collapsed into his arms.
"I... he lied to me..." I sobbed, clutching desperately at his coat.
"It's okay, I'm here, Elena. It's okay." Marco held me tight, his embrace solid and warm. He stroked my back over and over, awkwardly trying to comfort me. "Let's get in the car first. Damn, it's freezing out here. You can tell me what happened once we're inside."
He pulled off his cashmere coat and wrapped it around my thin hotel uniform without asking, then half-carried me into the car.
The heater was blasting, and the warm air enveloped me instantly. I felt a little better.
"How... Why are you here?" I finally found my voice.
"I landed today and went to see my grandmother first, then figured I'd at least see you once over Christmas.
Your phone kept going to voicemail, so I went to your hotel.
Your coworker Susan told me you'd gone to deliver wine to the Royal Hotel and gave me the address.
I was driving over when I found you here.
" He paused, then asked carefully, "So what the hell happened?
Who lied to you? Your boyfriend? That Russian? "
I nodded. He still remembered what I'd told him online six months ago—that I had a boyfriend, a Russian guy, and we were happy together. He'd gone quiet for a long time before replying, "As long as you're happy."
I told him everything that had happened tonight.
After I finished, Marco slammed his fist into the steering wheel.
"Fuck!" he growled, veins bulging in his neck. "I knew that bastard was trouble. I should've seen this coming!"
"I'm such an idiot, Marco." My voice was hoarse. "Six whole months, and I never suspected a thing. He was with me while planning his wedding to someone else."
"This isn't your fault, Elena." Marco's tone softened as he covered my hand with his. "That bastard's just a good actor. You're too good, you just... You trusted him too much."
Yeah, I trusted him too much. I gave him my first kiss, my virginity, all my love—to this fraud.
"He said he wanted to have an affair with me. Then compensate me with an Upper East Side apartment and a trust fund." I told him about Igor's final offer. "What does he think I am? Some gold-digger who just wants to cling to married men?"
"That son of a bitch! Who does he think he is? Just wait, Elena. I'll make him pay."
"How, Marco?" I cut him off. "He's Igor Vorontsov. He throws engagement banquets in massive estates. He has power and money, and we have nothing. I just want to get away from him. That's enough. After all, in his eyes, I was just a toy he could buy from the start."
"Don't talk about yourself like that." Marco's voice was firm. "You deserve the best, Elena."
"I used to believe that too. Then I thought I'd found someone I could depend on for life. Turns out it was all a lie."
Marco fell silent. After a long pause, he spoke again, his voice unnaturally calm.
"Come with me, Elena."
I froze and looked up at him.
"Leave New York. Leave America." His eyes were absolutely determined. "Go somewhere he can't find you."
"What?" I didn't understand.
"You said he offered you an apartment and trust fund, wants to keep seeing you.
" Marco's expression was serious. "Men like that don't let go easily.
If he's making offers like that, it means he still wants to control you.
With that Russian's status and wealth, if he really wants to find you, you can't hide anywhere in New York.
And..." He paused. "I know how these people operate.
To them, if they can't have something, they destroy it.
You rejected him—he might not just let this go. "
My heart sank. Yes, Igor wasn't ordinary. The double-headed eagle tattoo on his chest, his mysterious identity, his massive wealth. It all reminded me he was Bratva. I never thought I'd get tangled up with such a dangerous world.
"Where would I go?" My mind went blank. Where could I go if I left New York? I had no family. Except for this childhood friend sitting next to me, I had nothing.
"Italy." He looked at me. "I'm planning to bring my grandmother too. She's always liked you, remember? You used to say you wanted to see the sunflower fields in Tuscany."
My heart skipped a beat. Tuscany's sunflower fields—my impossible childhood dream.
"But wouldn't that be too much trouble for you..."
"Not at all." He answered calmly. "I worked for Cosa Nostra for a few years, paid off all my father's debts. I'm free now, and I've saved enough money for us to start fresh."
I stared at him in shock. Cosa Nostra. Italian Mafia. I knew Marco's background was complicated—his father was a gambler who got beaten to death, and his mother remarried. His grandmother raised him. I never imagined he'd been pulled into that world, too.
"That was so dangerous..."
"Yes, which is why I left the organization to stay alive.
But as the Don's former doctor, I built some connections in Cosa Nostra over the years.
I can protect you." Those warm brown eyes held a depth I couldn't read.
"Elena, come with me. I can get you a new identity, make sure he never finds you.
Italy is Cosa Nostra territory—Bratva power doesn't reach far there. "
His offer tempted me. Leave. Yes, I had to leave. I couldn't spend another second in this city where every corner reminded me of Igor and his betrayal. And knowing Igor's personality, if he wasn't done playing with me, he might not let me go easily.
"I'll do it. I'll go to Italy with you." I grabbed onto this lifeline. "Your grandmother's getting older. I can help you take care of her."
I needed a reason to convince myself to accept his help. I didn't want him to think I was a burden.
Marco's mouth curved into a bitter smile as he gently squeezed my hand. "Good. My grandmother will be so happy."
After deciding, I had Marco drive me back to my apartment.
"I'm going up to pack," I told Marco.
"I'll come with you."
"No." I shook my head. "I want to be alone for a bit."
Marco looked at me, hesitated, then finally nodded. "Okay, I'll wait downstairs. Don't be scared, Elena. Everything's going to be okay."
I got out of the car and walked into the apartment building. The hallway lights flickered on and off. I unlocked my door with my key—the room was pitch black. In the faint light from the window, I surveyed this tiny space filled with memories of Igor and me.
I turned on the lights. Under the harsh fluorescent glow, everything connected to him became painfully clear. His car keys on the couch, the anniversary gift I'd prepared on the table—that leather wallet I'd hand-sewn with his initials embroidered on it.
My heart clenched again.
I dragged my old suitcase out from under the bed and started packing. There wasn't much to take—a few changes of clothes, my design books, and the only photo I had of my parents.
I didn't touch a single thing Igor had given me. Those expensive dresses—I folded them neatly and left them in the corner of the closet. The bracelet and earrings his assistant had delivered—I placed them together on the vanity.
Finally, my eyes fell on that wallet. I walked over and picked it up, my fingertips tracing the "I.V." I'd embroidered stitch by stitch. I'd imagined his surprised, delighted expression when he received this gift countless times. How ridiculous that seemed now.
I unzipped my suitcase, about to throw it in, but my hand froze mid-air. There was no point taking it now. I set it on the nightstand, right next to those expensive jewels.
After finishing, I wheeled my suitcase to the entrance and took one last look at this place that held six months of memories with Igor, then turned and left without looking back.
Going downstairs, I saw Marco leaning against his car, smoking. When he saw me coming, he immediately crushed the cigarette and walked over to take my suitcase.
"All packed?"
"Yeah."
He put the suitcase in the trunk, then opened the passenger door for me.
The car started again. We picked up Marco's grandmother first, then headed together toward Kennedy Airport.
The whole way, Marco kept trying to distract me with conversation.
He told us about Italy's culture and customs, Tuscany's cuisine, stories from our childhood, and raved about how amazing his grandmother's lasagna was.
"When we get there, I'll take you both to Florence. Elena, you've always wanted to see Michelangelo's David, right? We can go to Rome too, and Venice."
"Thank you, Marco."
He glanced at me and smiled. "Why are you being so formal with me?"
"No, I'm serious." I looked at his profile. "If it weren't for you, I don't know what would've happened tonight."
"Then don't think about it." His voice was gentle. "From now on, you need to look forward."
I nodded.
I pulled out my phone—no calls or messages from Igor. I laughed bitterly. He wouldn't even think to look for me, wouldn't imagine I'd actually leave. He was too busy celebrating his engagement with his fiancée to remember me.
I turned off the phone without expression.
At the airport, Marco showed capabilities I'd never seen before.
He didn't take me to the regular counters but led me through an employee passage to meet someone who looked like a ground crew manager.
They exchanged a few words in Italian, the man nodded, and quickly got me a boarding pass to Rome with the name "Sofia Rossi. "
"A fake identity to get you out safely." Marco handed me the boarding pass and a new passport. "Don't worry, it's safe. A friend from the organization helped out—they're professionals at this stuff."
I took the passport that didn't belong to me, staring at that strange name, my heart full of uncertainty about the future.
After security, Marco, his grandmother, and I sat in the departure lounge.
I still felt like I was dreaming. Just hours ago, I'd been fighting with Igor in the snow—no, I'd been confronting him one-sidedly.
And now, on this Christmas night, I was about to fly to another country to start an unknown new life.
"Nervous?" Marco sat beside me and took my cold hand.
I shook my head, then nodded.
He smiled and squeezed my hand tighter. "Don't be nervous or worried. Everything will be fine. A new life is waiting for you. Once you get to Tuscany, you'll fall in love with it. There are ancient vineyards and the most beautiful sunsets in the world."
"Sounds beautiful." I forced a smile.
"More than just sounds like it." He said seriously.
"When you see it with your own eyes, you'll find it's even more beautiful than you imagined.
And the pace of life there is so slow, not frantic like New York.
You can sleep in every day, drink cappuccino at little town cafés, buy fresh ingredients at the market. .."
His hand was warm and strong, giving me some sense of security.
"Will you always be there?" I suddenly asked.
"Of course." He answered without hesitation. "I already found a new job there—a community clinic with good pay."
The boarding announcement echoed through the terminal. We got up and walked to the gate. When the plane took off, I pressed against the window, watching New York's lights spread beneath me like a brilliant sea of stars, slowly shrinking until they disappeared into the thick clouds.
Goodbye, New York.
Goodbye, Igor Vorontsov.