Chapter 10
JULIET
Four months had passed since I had been locked inside this suffocating bungalow, a prison masquerading as a home.
Day by day, it had taken pieces of me until the woman I once was felt like a stranger.
The days bled into one another, each as silent and empty as the last, interrupted only by Keegan’s weekly visits to drop off groceries and whatever supplies he deemed necessary.
The isolation had broken something inside me.
I had screamed until my throat bled during the first month.
By the second, I had exhausted every pathetic attempt to pick the locks and climb the walls.
By the third, I had stopped believing anyone was coming for me.
Now, in the fourth month, survival had become a routine.
Wake up. Eat. Tend the little vegetable garden behind the bungalow. Sleep. Repeat.
The small backyard farm had become my sanctuary—the only place where I could pretend the sky belonged to me instead of my captor.
Between the neat rows of tomatoes, peppers, and herbs, I could almost forget the locked doors waiting just a few yards away.
Almost.
And today was another one of those days, another quiet reminder that this might be my life forever—locked away from the world, waiting for a freedom that might never come.
It was a quiet Saturday morning.
I wandered slowly between the vegetable beds, one hand instinctively resting over the gentle swell of my stomach.
My baby.
The tiny life growing inside me was the only thing tethering me to sanity.
Without this child, I wasn’t sure I would have survived the crushing loneliness.
The silence had become so loud that I sometimes caught myself talking to the vegetables, laughing at jokes no one else could hear, simply to remind myself that I still had a voice.
I traced absent circles over my belly as I walked, whispering silent promises to the little soul beneath my palm.
I’ll get us out of here.
I don’t know how... but I will.
The back door creaked open without warning, shattering the quiet morning.
I froze.
Keegan wasn’t due until Monday.
Slowly, I turned.
My breath caught.
Romeo.
For the first time in four months.
He stepped into the backyard garden, his immaculate white suit standing out sharply against the greenery.
The tailored jacket molded itself to his broad shoulders, the pristine fabric making his dark hair and piercing green eyes seem even more striking.
White should have made him look pure.
Instead, it made him look lethal.
Like an executioner dressed as an angel.
Like salvation dipped in sin.
He was heartbreak wrapped in perfection.
Rage surged through me so suddenly that it nearly drowned out the shock.
This was the man who had sentenced me to solitary confinement.
The man who had abandoned me here without a single explanation.
The man who had never once bothered to see whether I was alive or dead, leaving Keegan to deliver food like I was some inconvenient responsibility that needed feeding.
Four months.
Not one visit.
Not one conversation.
Not one ounce of remorse.
I had tried to escape more times than I cared to count.
Every attempt had ended in failure.
The last time, I had nearly made it over the towering perimeter wall before my foot slipped. I still remembered the sickening drop, the sharp pain that shot through my body when I hit the ground.
I hadn’t been afraid for myself.
I had been terrified for the child inside me.
I was pregnant.
I had never taken a test.
I hadn’t needed one.
Four months of relentless morning sickness that often stretched long past sunrise.
Crushing exhaustion that made even watering the vegetables feel like climbing a mountain.
Smells so overwhelming they turned ordinary meals into torture.
Dizzy spells that stole the strength from my legs.
Tender, swollen breasts. Cravings so bizarre they would have made me laugh under different circumstances. Emotions that swung wildly between tears and fury.
And then...
The flutter.
So faint I had almost imagined it the first time.
Now I felt it often enough that there was no denying the truth.
My palm instinctively pressed harder against the soft curve of my stomach.
Our child was alive.
But Romeo didn’t know.
Keegan didn’t know.
I had made sure of that.
Every instinct in me screamed to keep my pregnancy hidden for as long as possible. As long as Romeo believed I was simply his prisoner, there was still hope.
Hope that one day I would escape.
Hope that I could disappear before this baby ever entered the world.
Because if there was one thing I knew with absolute certainty, it was this—
Romeo Flynn did not deserve to call himself my child’s father.
Not now.
Not ever.
Romeo took a step forward.
I didn’t move.
I couldn’t.
I simply stared at him, my body frozen while my heart remained painfully, completely numb.
Four months ago, seeing him would have made my pulse race for a thousand different reasons. Anger. Attraction. Confusion. Fear.
Now?
Now there was nothing left except a hollow emptiness where every feeling used to live.
And beneath it all, a hatred so deep it terrified even me.
For one fleeting, violent second, I wished I had a gun in my hand.
Not because I wanted revenge.
Not because I cared about the trust fund anymore.
I wanted freedom.
Freedom from this house.
Freedom from this marriage.
Freedom from him.
He started walking toward me.
Every step brought the memories rushing back.
The locked doors.
The endless silence.
The walls closing in around me.
The nights I cried myself to sleep wondering if anyone even remembered I existed.
My fingers curled into fists at my sides as the anger inside me grew hotter, stronger, until it felt like my entire body was burning.
When he stopped in front of me, I didn’t think.
I simply struck him.
My palm connected with his cheek, the sound of the slap exploding through the peaceful morning.
His head turned slightly.
And for once, I didn’t care who he was.
I didn’t care that he was a monster who had slaughtered an entire generation of his own family.
I didn’t care that he had sent men after Zachary’s crew knowing exactly what it meant to spill the blood of a Chicago mafia boss.
I didn’t care that I had watched him tear Egor’s heart from his chest without a flicker of remorse.
That was Romeo.
The ruthless man everyone feared.
But standing there before him, I wasn’t thinking about his reputation.
I was thinking about what he had done to me.
The four months he had stolen from my life.
The loneliness.
The locked doors.
The way he had reduced me to a prisoner in my own home.
My hand trembled at my side.
I hated him.
Not quietly. Not anymore.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then my fury exploded.
“You monster!”
My voice cracked as tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
“You locked me up for four fucking months!” I screamed. “Four months, Romeo! Do you have any idea what that does to a person?”
My chest heaved as every ounce of pain I had buried came rushing out.
“I am not a possession. I am not some animal you can lock away when you’re angry. I am a human being. I have a life. I have dreams. I have a choice!”
I stepped closer, my voice trembling with rage.
“How dare you?”
His expression remained controlled, but that only made me angrier.
“You know what’s the worst part?” I laughed bitterly. “I spent months wondering what I did to deserve this. I kept thinking maybe there was some explanation. Maybe somewhere inside that cold, arrogant heart of yours, you regretted it.”
I shook my head.
“But you don’t.”
My voice dropped, becoming sharper.
“I regret saving you.”
His eyes flickered, but I pushed through the pain.
“All three times.” My voice cracked. “I should have watched you drown in that pool. I should have left you to bleed out after my father’s men shot you. And when Zachary’s son pulled that trigger, I should have done nothing. I should have let the bullet find you instead of saving you.”
I laughed bitterly through my tears.
“Three times, Romeo. Three times I chose to save a man who has spent every day since making me regret it.”
My fingers curled into fists.
“If I had known saving you would become my own personal hell, I would have watched you die without lifting a finger. Maybe then I wouldn’t hate myself for being foolish enough to keep choosing your life over mine.”
The words tasted poisonous, but I needed him to hurt the way I had hurt.
His jaw tightened.
The next second, his hand closed around my arm.
Not gently.
He pulled me against him, my body colliding with his chest as his grip tightened around my wrist.
“Yes, I hate you. That hasn’t changed.” His voice remained disturbingly calm. “But I never intended for you to remain locked away for four months. That wasn’t deliberate.”
He said it without remorse, as though four months of my life were nothing worth regretting.
My anger burned hotter.
I shoved against him, but he barely moved.
In one quick movement, I hooked my leg around his and twisted, using his own balance against him.
For the first time since I had known him, surprise crossed Romeo’s face.
He hadn’t expected me to fight back.
We stumbled.
Then we crashed into the soft dirt of the farm.
I landed on top of him, my breath catching as I realized what I had done.
For one second, I saw something almost unfamiliar in his eyes.
Not anger. Not coldness.
Surprise.
But the moment disappeared.
Before I could move, Romeo reacted.
His body shifted with terrifying speed.
One second I was above him.
The next, my back was pressed into the earth, his weight holding me down.
His hands trapped mine against the ground.
His breathing was heavier than I had ever heard it before.
Not calm. Not controlled.
Something about that unsettled me more than his anger would have.
“I went to Poland,” he said.
His voice was rough. “I went there looking for your father.”
My fury faltered slightly.
Poland?