Chapter 24
ELENA
Renzo.
“What the hell!” I hissed, spinning on my heel.
My heart was still racing from the shock of his grip, adrenaline flooding my system as I faced him.
“You scared me!”
Renzo didn’t react to my outburst.
His gaze flicked briefly past me toward the ward door, sharp and alert.
Down the corridor, I caught sight of two doctors approaching—clipboards in hand, voices lowered in quiet professional conversation.
They were getting closer.
“You would’ve been caught spying,” Renzo murmured, his tone low but firm.
He stepped in, gripping my arm—not roughly, but with enough insistence to guide me.
“Come on.”
Before I could argue, he pulled me away from the curtain, steering me quickly around the corner and out of sight.
The moment we stopped, I yanked my arm free.
“Don’t grab me like that,” I muttered, though I kept my voice down.
My pulse was still erratic, nerves stretched tight from everything I’d just seen.
Renzo didn’t argue.
He simply leaned back against the wall, arms loosely crossed, eyes scanning the corridor for any sign of movement.
Then I spoke.
“Violet doesn’t have heart disease.”
The words came out faster than I expected.
“I just heard her. She was sitting up—no coughing, no weakness. Nothing. She’s been faking it this whole time. Playing the pity card to keep Vincenzo wrapped around her finger.”
Renzo’s expression didn’t shift dramatically, but there was a subtle tightening around his eyes—like something in what I said confirmed a suspicion he’d already been entertaining.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he said quietly.
His tone was measured.
“She lies. A lot.”
A beat.
“But Vincenzo...” His jaw flexed slightly. “He doesn’t want to see it.”
My brows drew together.
“Why? Why is he so blind when it comes to her?”
Renzo didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he glanced down at his watch—quick, almost automatic.
But I caught it.
That look.
A flicker of something that felt... off.
“I wouldn’t be here right now if I had the luxury of explaining everything,” he said.
There was tension in his voice now.
He met my eyes again.
“Vincenzo sent me here to sit with Violet while he handles... other things.”
I folded my arms, watching him carefully. “Then explain quickly.”
A pause.
Renzo exhaled, slow.
“I’ll tell you the full story later,” he said, quieter now. “About how she pulled him out of that ambush when he was sixteen. Took a bullet meant for him. Nearly bled out in his arms.”
My breath caught slightly.
That explained a lot.
“But not here,” he added. “Not now.”
I hesitated, then gave a small nod.
“Okay.”
Silence stretched between us for a moment.
Then—
Renzo studied my face.
“You’re okay, right?”
The question was simple.
But it landed heavier than anything else.
I let out a slow breath.
“No,” I admitted honestly. “But I will be.”
Renzo gave a small, crooked smile.
“You’re tougher than any of us deserve, Elena.”
The words lingered.
Unexpected.
And somehow... grounding.
He pushed off the wall, already shifting back into motion.
“I need to get back,” he said. “Vincenzo doesn’t like leaving things unattended.”
Of course he didn’t.
I nodded.
“Go.”
Renzo gave me one last long look—concern etched into the fine lines around his eyes, something almost protective lingering there.
For a moment, he didn’t move. Just watched me, like he was measuring whether I was about to fall apart or hold myself together.
Then his expression softened.
A brief smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—small, controlled, almost reassuring.
“I know how much it torments you that Vincenzo didn’t believe you... that you weren’t touched during those four weeks,” he said softly.
He drew in a faint breath. “But I believe you. I believe you’re carrying his child.”
The words almost brought tears to my eyes—someone actually believed my story.
My voice shook as I tried to speak.
“Th... thank you,” I whispered.
He gave a slight nod.
Then he turned and disappeared back toward Violet’s ward, his footsteps fading into the polished silence of the corridor.
I remained still, holding onto his words as if they could steady me.
For a few seconds, I just stood there, staring at nothing.
Then—
My phone vibrated sharply against my palm.
Once.
Then again.
Vincenzo.
My stomach tightened.
I answered before the second ring finished.
“Elena, where are you?”
His voice came through immediately.
The question hit me like a slap.
As if I had wandered off on purpose.
“Why do you care?” I shot back, sharper than I intended.
My voice carried more bite than I expected—but I didn’t soften it.
“You went to attend to your mistress and left me to find my way home. I’m probably lost.”
I started moving.
The parking garage lay two levels down.
I followed the signs, my steps uneven, heels clicking sharply against polished concrete as I descended the ramp.
The sound echoed faintly around me.
Cars passed in and out of the garage.
“Elena,” Vincenzo’s voice cut back through the phone, tighter now. “Send me your live location. I’ll come pick you up.”
I reached the level where he’d left me.
His matte-black SUV still sat in the reserved executive bay—long, low, and imposing, like it owned the space around it.
The key fob felt heavier in my hand than it should have.
I unlocked the car with a soft chirp, the sound echoing faintly in the empty space.
Sliding behind the wheel, I adjusted the seat quickly, then started the engine.
It roared to life beneath me—deep, powerful, almost alive.
A strange comfort.
I exhaled slowly, gripping the steering wheel with both hands as the engine settled into a steady growl.
Then I reversed.
The tires whispered softly over concrete as I eased the car out of the bay.
“I’m driving,” I said into the phone, my voice steady now, clipped. “I don’t need your help.”
“Elena...” Frustration crept into his tone. “Just send your live location already.”
“No.”
I merged into the flow of exiting traffic, following the green arrows toward the main exit.
“I’ll find my way home,” I added. “Go attend to your mistress.”
A beat of silence.
Then—
“I already left her side, okay?”
The words came faster this time.
Defensive.
But I didn’t let it soften anything.
“Doesn’t change the fact that you left me stranded in the garage like I was nothing.”
My grip tightened around the steering wheel.
“I know I mean nothing to you, Vincenzo. But at least treat me like a person.”
The words hung between us.
I didn’t wait for a response.
Instead, I merged onto the road, turning in the opposite direction from the estate.
Not toward home. Not toward him.
The coastal road stretched ahead of me—wide, open, endless.
So I took it.
No plan. No destination.
Just movement.
After four weeks trapped within concrete walls, and barely four days in his home, I realized I needed this: driving through the city, just taking it all in with my eyes.
The windows were down.
Warm wind rushed into the car, whipping through my hair, tugging at my clothes.
Palm trees lined the road in dark silhouettes against the fading sky, their leaves swaying in the evening breeze.
The sky burned in soft oranges and purples as the sun dipped lower.
I drove.
Hands steady.
Letting the rhythm of the engine, the hum of the tires, and the movement of the road ground me.
Vincenzo exhaled—long and weary—like he was already exhausted with the conversation.
“Fine,” he said finally. “Such an act will not be repeated.”
A pause.
“Now tell me where you are... my men are having a hard time locating you.”
Of course.
His men were already trying to track the SUV.
I almost laughed.
A short, quiet sound that held no real humor.
“It’ll happen again. And again. A thousand times. Violet controls you, and you’ll obey her every whim. Stop pretending you can keep promises. You can’t. It’s revolting.”
The words slipped out of me before I could stop them—quiet, bitter, edged with everything I was trying not to feel.
A pause.
Then—
“Elena,” he said, softer now, something new threading through his voice.
“Not knowing where you are... it’s tearing me apart. I can’t lie to you anymore. You deserve the truth.”
He paused.
That made me glance at the phone.
At the small screen.
At the man who always spoke in absolutes—but never like this.
“Speak.”
I frowned slightly, easing my foot off the accelerator as the SUV rolled smoothly along the curved seaside boulevard.
The engine purred beneath me, steady and controlled, while the road stretched ahead in a long, winding line beside the ocean.
“Scrolling through Violet’s Instagram profile in that VIP lounge... that was on purpose. I only wanted you to hate me more. To show you that nothing positive can ever come from our marriage, to keep the distance between us.”
My grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
“It’s one of the many ways I push you away,” he added.
“But the truth is... it wasn’t her face I was seeing while scrolling through her feed. It was yours. Hard to believe, I know—but it’s the truth.”
The ache in my chest didn’t disappear.
It didn’t soften.
It just... changed.
Sharper.
More complicated.
My fingers loosened slightly on the steering wheel, like my body didn’t know whether to hold on tighter or let go completely.
“You want me to hate you?” I asked quietly, my voice barely rising above the wind rushing through the open windows.
“Didn’t you... already?”
A bitter, humorless half-laugh followed.
“I’ve hurt you over and over, Elena. There’s no forgiveness for that.”
His tone was flat now.
Certain.
Self-condemning.
“A man like me deserves nothing but hatred,” he whispered, breaking.
“I know you’ve always thought of escaping... I know you will, someday, no matter my power, no matter what I pray for. And I know you’ll come back for revenge.”
“But even an hour without knowing where you are... it’s already unbearable. I can’t imagine how I’ll feel when you finally leave me for good.”
His voice tightened just a fraction.