Chapter 48
Bianca Ferrucci
I wiped away my tears with a firm gesture, forcing myself to regain my composure. Tiziano would regret every word he had thrown at me, every wound he had caused. And I would make sure of it myself.
“Have a good life, Tiziano,” I said, walking out of the bedroom. “May it be as empty and bitter as you are.”
I left before he could answer, even though I knew he probably wouldn’t say anything. I had to keep my head held high, even with my heart shattered. When I reached the mansion’s front door, the soldiers stared at me with confused expressions. They had never seen the “Constanzo queen” crying.
Alessandro was leaning against the car, his dark eyes fixed on me. He opened the door without saying a word, and I got into the vehicle, trying to ignore the look of pity he gave me.
“Where are we going?” he asked after a long silence as the engine rumbled.
“Far away,” I replied, my voice firm despite the knot in my throat. “As far away from here as possible.”
Alessandro nodded and pulled away. The mansion began to disappear in the rearview mirror, and with it, everything I had built beside Tiziano.
The man I had learned to love had rejected me, but he had ignited a fire inside me, a desire to prove that I was more than the blood running through my veins, and it burned stronger than ever.
I didn’t know where this road would take me, but one thing was certain: I would come back. Not to beg for forgiveness or reconciliation, but to show Tiziano that he hadn’t destroyed me.
“You were half right,” I murmured to Alessandro.
“Yes, you’re alive,” he replied with a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “He must feel something for you, or you’d already be dead.”
I took a deep breath, trying to swallow the knot in my throat.
“Are we going to your house, the one I was at earlier?”
“No,” Alessandro replied immediately. “You said you wanted to go far away. We’ll stay in Naples for now. Our father had properties there, and the Don didn’t burn all of them.”
He paused, studying my expression before continuing.
“Besides, we have a lot of money, Bianca. We’re the only heirs. Our father had properties and bank accounts outside the country. He was careful, even if he was a bastard in many ways.”
He pulled the car onto the shoulder and calmly turned off the engine before turning toward me. A wide, purposeful smile spread across his lips.
“Come on, Bianca. We’ll switch to another car from here.” He paused, tilting his head slightly. “What do you say we burn this one? Just for fun?”
I shrugged.
“I don’t care,” I replied indifferently, although I felt something different pulsing inside me. A small taste of freedom, of chaos.
I got out of the car, the cold late-afternoon wind striking my face as I watched Alessandro pour gasoline over the vehicle. He was calm, methodical, and there was something liberating about the way he handled it.
“Your turn,” he said with a crooked smile as he handed me the gas can.
I took the can. It wasn’t just a car I was about to burn. It was a symbol. The weight of the past, the pain, the humiliation. Every drop of gasoline spilling over the upholstery and tires seemed to wash away a part of the Bianca I used to be.
When we were done, Alessandro pulled a lighter from his pocket and held it out to me.
“Want to do the honors?” he asked.
I tossed it into the car and stepped back as the fire began to spread.
The flames grew quickly. The heat was intense, but not as intense as the feeling exploding inside me.
Something broke in that moment, something that had held me back, chained me to pain and submission.
Bianca, the woman Tiziano had known, was being consumed along with that car.
In her place, something new was emerging.
“Goodbye, submissive Bianca. Welcome, free Bianca,” I murmured to myself, feeling my lips curve into a smile I didn’t recognize.
Alessandro laughed beside me, crossing his arms as he watched the car being devoured by the flames.
“I never thought watching something burn could be so satisfying,” he said, never taking his eyes off the spectacle. “That’s you now, Bianca. A hell no one can put out.”
I looked at him and then at the car.
“Let’s go,” I said in a firm tone, different from the one that usually came out of my mouth.
We got into the new car, and Alessandro started the engine.
As we drove away, the reflection of the fire in the rearview mirror grew smaller, and the feeling of freedom grew with every mile.
I was no longer the same. The fear was still there, but now it was accompanied by something greater: the will to survive, to fight, and to rebuild myself.
The new Bianca would no longer be a victim. And when the time came, Tiziano would realize what he had lost and what he himself had created.