Chapter5

I sat in the shadows of the living room, the old coat clutched in both hands.

These past few days I had been moving through the house like a startled animal, rehearsing escape routes in my head at all hours, waiting for one moment of chaos—something to divide Dante's attention.

God seemed to be listening.

A thunderous blast came from outside the estate. Then gunfire erupted like a sudden cloudburst, relentless and crackling.

The windows shattered. Glass sprayed across the floor.

I was on my feet before I knew it, heart hammering. This was it. This was the chaos I had been waiting for.

"Ambush! Ambush!" The bodyguards' shouts and the gunfire became one continuous roar.

In the center of the living room, Dante was still on the leather sofa, a glass of red wine in hand. Valentina was curled against him, laughing at something.

The moment the shooting started, his reaction was extraordinary.

But he never looked at me. Not once. Even though I was barely three meters away.

He didn't even register the wine glass falling from his hand. His body moved on pure instinct—throwing itself over Valentina.

"Get down!"

He roared the words and covered her completely, his back and arms wrapped around her head.

"Ahh—!"

Valentina screamed, but there was something underneath the fear in her voice—the sound of a woman who knows she is protected.

Through the cracks in the chaos, I caught her eye.

She was enjoying this.

"Protect the boss! Protect Miss Valentina!"

The bodyguards poured in. Not one of them looked at me. They formed a wall of muscle and guns around Dante and Valentina—a tight, seamless ring with its back to me.

One of them shoved me out of the way to find cover. The impact sent me slamming into the wall.

I hit the floor and looked up at that wall of bodies.

Dante had Valentina folded against his chest, his face buried in her neck, murmuring words I couldn't hear. The look in his eyes—the desperation, the tenderness—was something I had spent three years of marriage searching for and never once found.

In this moment of survival, I was invisible. I was excess.

"Move out! Back door!" Dante's shout cut through the noise, and the bodyguards swept him and Valentina toward the rear of the house.

I was still wedged against the wall. A stray bullet clipped the air past my ear and punched into the plaster behind me.

The concussion from a nearby blast sent pain ringing through my eardrums. And then something warm began to run down my leg.

A sudden, vicious cramp seized my abdomen.

"Uhh—" A strangled sound escaped me as the cold sweat soaked through my back. The baby. My baby.

I looked toward Dante's retreating figure. He had Valentina in his arms, carefully steering her around the debris on the floor.

If I called out to him now—told him I was pregnant—would he even turn around?

No. He would see me as a liability. He would push me aside without a thought to keep her safe.

I pressed my hand against my stomach, feeling the secret that was still his unknowing. The life he had no idea existed.

Tears gathered. I crushed them back. This was not the time.

The will to survive—at that moment—conquered every other fear and every pain.

I bit down on my lip and pushed myself up, hands and knees, ignoring the agony.

I ran to the bedroom and snatched up the old coat. The flash drive inside its lining pressed hard against my chest. My only lifeline.

The gunfire was drawing closer. The sky on one side of the house had turned the color of fire. I braced myself against the wall and staggered toward the back of the study. There was a hidden door there—one that opened onto a path into the forest behind the estate.

I threw my shoulder against it. A wave of damp earth and pine hit me. I looked back once at the house I had lived in for five years.

No grief. Not a trace.

I plunged into the trees.

The dry leaves and dead branches crackled under my feet, each step feeling like it landed on broken glass. The pain in my abdomen grew in waves, blood soaking into the hem of my skirt. I couldn't stop. I couldn't look back.

Bang. Bang.

The shots behind me kept coming—whether they were aimed at me or not, I couldn't know. I only knew I had to run. Had to live.

I wrapped my arms around my stomach and ran through the dark forest. Branches tore at my face. Thorns shredded my hands. I stopped feeling the pain.

There was only one thought left: Get out. Get my child out.

Darkness swallowed the whole mountain. I ran like a hounded animal, crashing through the trees. I don't know how long it lasted—only that eventually the gunshots faded, and eventually my legs could no longer hold me.

I collapsed, pulling great heaving breaths into my lungs.

I was alive. My child and I were alive.