Chapter 7
Same hallway. Bodies cooling. Cigarette halfway done.
Valentina was still standing there.
Frozen.
She looked at me like I wasn't real. Like I'd stepped out of someone else's story and rewritten hers.
I took one last drag.
Flicked the cigarette off the edge of a shoulder beneath me.
Then looked up.
Eyes on her.
Still calm.
Still dangerous.
"...You still wanna know who I am?"
She didn't speak.
Just nodded. Small. Shaky.
I stood up from the pile of unconscious men.
Blood dripping down my side.
My voice didn't rise.
It didn't need to.
"Then come with me."
She blinked.
I walked past her.
Slow.
Heavy steps echoing through the hallway like a countdown.
Before I turned the corner, I said it without looking back—
"Book a hotel room."
Pause.
"Only you. No one else. No questions."
I stopped.
Glanced over my shoulder.
My eyes sharp. Voice flat.
"Nobody gets to know who I really am."
And then I walked away.
Because the truth?
It wasn't just dark.
It was mine.
And if she really wanted it—
She better be ready.
Penthouse. Mirror. Empty closet. One outfit left.
I stared at myself.
The bruises were still faint along my ribs.
The memory of being upside down and electrocuted less than 24 hours ago still lingered in the curve of my back.
But that wasn't the story tonight.
Tonight, Anna Maricella was walking out.
I opened the safe in the floor.
Punched in a code that didn't exist on any known device.
The hatch opened with a hiss.
Inside?
The dress.
Black. Silken. Sculpted to perfection.
It cost more than Marco Vercetti's entire private security budget.
Next:
Heels.
Stilettos. Louboutin. Custom cut to my calf.
Then the necklace.
The one.
$47 million.
One of a kind. Gifted to me by a dying billionaire who I outplayed in a crypto merger.
I clipped it on.
It shimmered like sin against my collarbones.
Then came the final touch—
The cologne.
Imported from a Parisian lab that doesn't sell to anyone outside six names.
Two sprays.
One to the wrist. One behind the ear.
Lethal.
I looked in the mirror.
Eyes black. Hair clean. Face carved in silence.
No Emily.
Just Anna.
And she was ready.
Hotel. 8:59 PM.
I walked through the lobby.
Every man turned.
Every woman stared.
I was quiet.
I was fire.
The elevator opened without a ding.
Room 1703.
Valentina had her back to the door.
She was pacing.
Talking to herself.
"Okay, just... be chill. She said no questions. But I have QUESTIONS. What if she—what if she actually—like is she CIA? Is she—"
Tap. Tap. Tap.
She turned.
Stopped.
Her jaw dropped.
And her voice?
Gone.
I stepped into the room.
Shut the door behind me.
Silence.
Her eyes dragged over the dress.
The heels.
The necklace.
The eyes.
"...Emily?" she whispered.
I tilted my head.
And corrected her.
"Anna Maricella."
Hotel Suite, Room 1703. 9:03 PM.
Valentina was still standing.
Mouth open.
Like she forgot how knees work.
I walked past her. Quiet. Heels clicking like gunshots.
Sat on the velvet chair near the window.
Crossed my legs.
Rested one arm on the armrest.
And looked at her.
"Ask."
She blinked.
"What?"
"You said you wanted to know who I am. Ask."
She slowly sat down across from me.
Hands shaking. Breath caught.
"...Okay," she whispered. "Who... who are you?"
I tilted my head.
"Anna Maricella. Born in Venice. No papers. No name. Just a blood type and silence."
She didn't speak.
"Smuggled into the U.S. at seven. Dumped into the foster system like a broken toy. Thirteen homes before I was ten."
Her eyes widened.
"At eleven, I coded a security algorithm that was later reverse-engineered by Chase Bank. At twelve, I started laundering crypto through shell companies. At thirteen, I bought my first skyscraper under a fake name."
She blinked. Fast.
"By fourteen, I was worth $1.4 billion."
Silence.
I leaned back.
"Then the U.S. government stepped in. Cited Title 15 USC § 80b-2. Minors can't legally own unregistered investment firms. Froze my assets. Killed my aliases. Took everything."
She opened her mouth.
But couldn't speak.
"So I vanished. Became Emily Stonebrook. Applied to Northvale on scholarship. Lived like trash. Ate like dust. Slept on benches. Got shoved into lockers by girls like you."
Valentina looked like she might cry.
I didn't flinch.
"You thought I was weak. Poor. Replaceable. You called me names. Let others call me worse. And all that time?"
I leaned forward.
"While, you were bullying a billionaire. A girl the world couldn't kill. You thought you broke me."
Her lips parted.
"...Why didn't you fight back?"
My voice dropped.
"Because if I fought back—"
I smiled, slow, deadly.
"—you wouldn't exist anymore."
Valentina swallowed hard.
I stood.
Walked over.
Stopped just in front of her.
She looked up at me.
Eyes shaking.
I looked down.
"Any more questions?"
Hotel Suite. 9:10 PM.
She was still staring.
Not blinking.
Not breathing.
Like the past 24 hours rewrote her entire brain chemistry.
I stood over her, calm.
Still in that black dress.
Necklace catching the light.
Cologne hanging in the air like truth itself.
"Any more questions?"
She swallowed.
"...How much of everything I said to you... did you remember?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"All of it."
Her face dropped.
"E-every time?"
I nodded once.
"Every time you called me a beggar. A slut. Garbage. Worthless."
She sank lower into the chair.
"Why didn't you ever say anything?"
I exhaled.
Soft.
"Because what would I say, Valentina? That the girl you shove into lockers has enough power to erase your father's empire overnight?"
She looked up.
Guilt all over her face.
"...Can you?"
I didn't answer.
Didn't have to.
She knew.
Next question.
Her voice smaller this time.
"...Do you hate me?"
Silence.
I sat down again.
Crossed one leg over the other.
Locked eyes with her.
"I should."
She flinched.
I continued.
"But I don't."
Her eyes shot up.
"...Why not?"
I smiled—
Not soft.
Not cruel.
Just real.
"Because people don't learn when you kill them. They learn when you let them live... and watch you rise."
Silence again.
She was barely breathing.
"...Are you still Emily?"
That one stung a little.
I paused.
Then leaned in.
"Emily Stonebrook was the version of me the world tried to break."
I touched the diamond around my neck.
"Anna Maricella is the girl they couldn't kill."
She looked at me like I was fire.
Like she wanted to touch it.
Burn or not.
I leaned back.
Folded my arms.
"...That all?"
Valentina stared.
Then whispered:
"...Can I still call you Emily?"
Pause.
I stared back.
Then nodded once.
"That's my name now right?."
Valentina sat across from me.
Still processing.
Tears dried into her cheeks.
Mascara barely holding on.
Eyes locked on me like I was saying things she'd never let herself imagine.
She finally spoke, voice raw.
"Do you... have a plan? Like a future plan?"
I leaned back in the chair, fingers tracing the diamond around my neck.
"Don't worry. I'm not ending your father's empire."
She blinked.
I continued.
"Not unless he takes it too far."
I gave her a moment.
Let that sink in.
Then smiled.
A real one.
"But me? I've got something better."
I looked up.
"I've been building an app. Quietly. Secretly. A real one this time—not black market code. Something legal. Sustainable. Ready to launch the moment I turn eighteen."
She didn't move.
Just listened.
"I'll get my billions back in a few months. Faster, smarter, cleaner. And then?"
Pause.
I breathed in, deep.
"I'm taking off."
She blinked again.
"...Taking off?"
"Yeah. Traveling. Every country. Every city. Every island. All 365 days. Every year. Until I find her."
Valentina's brows pulled together slightly.
"Her?"
I nodded slowly.
"The woman I'm meant to love."
Her breath hitched.
I kept going, soft now.
"Too gay to turn back. Way too far in."
She smiled through wet eyes.
I didn't stop.
"I wanna marry her. Wake up to her face every morning. Kiss her. Hold her. Make her feel like every single day is a goddamn fairytale."
I looked down at my hands.
Then back up.
"I wanna adopt a baby. Raise her right. Give her the childhood I never had. Show her the world. Laugh with her. Protect her. Be... happy."
My voice cracked a little at the end.
I didn't fix it.
I let it break.
Let it breathe.
Across from me, Valentina exhaled a single word—
"...fuck."
Then she laughed.
And started crying.
And laughed again through the tears.
"That dream? That whole thing you just said? I've dreamed about that."
She wiped her face.
Smiling, broken.
"I'm not even kidding. I've had that dream. The traveling. The girl. The family."
She looked up.
"I'm so fucking tired of being called a mafia princess. A daddy's girl. A Vercetti."
Her voice cracked.
"I just wanna be Valentina."
I stared at her.
Quiet.
Then whispered back—
"Then be her."
Valentina was still wiping her face.
Mascara on her wrist.
Eyes red but brighter than they'd ever been.
I didn't speak.
Didn't move.
Just... watched her.
Something about the way she cried felt different this time.
Not broken.
Freeing.
Then her phone rang.
Marco.
The screen lit up with his name.
She froze.
Looked at me.
Then at the phone.
"...Should I answer?"
I didn't blink.
"Put it on speaker."
She hesitated.
Then tapped.
Marco Vercetti's voice crackled through.
"Finally. Been trying to call for hours."
Valentina said nothing.
Marco kept going.
"You good? I heard from the guards you were hysterical or something. Screaming about that orphan bitch again."
Valentina flinched.
I stared forward, face unreadable.
Marco scoffed.
"Whatever she told you, don't buy it. She's scum. Born in the dirt. Raised by nobodies. It's what she is. Trash that got lucky with a scholarship."
Valentina opened her mouth—
I touched her arm.
"Let him finish," I whispered.
Marco continued.
"She killed my men today. My best men. I don't give a fuck what excuses she made—she's a rabid dog. Should've been put down long ago. But I gave her mercy. Let her walk. Let her survive."
My jaw clenched.
He had no idea I was sitting right here.
Breathing.
Listening.
Alive.
Stronger than ever.
Marco kept ranting.
"And you—stop getting attached. She's nothing. She's a fucking orphan slut who forgot her place. I swear on this family, Valentina—if I ever see her again, I'll rip her apart limb by limb myself."
Silence.
Valentina looked at me.
Eyes wide.
I leaned in.
Picked up the phone.
Held it for a second.
Then said, voice smooth as glass—
"Can't wait."
Click.
I hung up.