Chapter 7
955words
Golden afternoon light filters through ancient shutters into the small gallery in the Marais district, the air rich with the scent of oil paints and fresh coffee. Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window upstairs, I watch pedestrians stroll along cobblestone streets below, a long-forgotten sense of peace washing over me.
"Irina," Anna gently pushes open the door, carrying two steaming cups of tea. "How are you feeling?"
I turn to face this dear friend who's been with me since childhood. She's still as elegant and brilliant as ever, her silver-gray hair pulled back, her eyes radiating gentle concern.
"Like waking from a nightmare," I take the teacup. "Thank you, Anna. For all of this."
The apartment isn't large, but every corner shows thoughtful care. Impressionist paintings adorn the walls, bookshelves overflow with art volumes, and an antique piano stands in the corner. Nothing here connects to the Moretti family—no surveillance, no bodyguards, just pure freedom.
"Welcome back to your own life, Irina," Anna embraces me. "From now on, you live only for yourself."
I close my eyes, breathing deeply the air of freedom. A dull ache still lingers in my abdomen, reminding me of the child I lost, but strangely, I don't feel despair. Perhaps losing that child has somehow granted me true liberation.
"Where's Ethan?" I ask.
"Downstairs talking with gallery security," Anna smiles. "Don't worry, he'll always protect you. I've also prepared new identity documents. From now on, you're simply Irina Petrova again."
Meanwhile, in Chicago.
Alessandro stands on the balcony of the Moretti Estate, nursing a glass of whiskey. Today is his thirty-second birthday, but celebration is the furthest thing from his mind. Irina has been missing for three days, and his men have found nothing.
His phone rings—the family's private doctor.
"Mr. Moretti, regarding your wife, I feel I must inform you," the doctor's voice is tense. "Three days ago, your wife came for an examination. She was pregnant, about four weeks along."
Alessandro's glass slips from his hand, shattering on the marble floor.
"What?"
"But later, she was involved in a car accident and underwent emergency surgery at an underground clinic. I'm sorry, but the baby couldn't be saved."
The world freezes around him. Alessandro collapses into a chair, mind reeling. Pregnant? Car accident? Miscarriage? Each word hammers into his skull like a physical blow.
"When did this happen?" His voice is so hoarse it's barely audible.
"The night she left. Mr. Moretti, you should know that the attackers were Torelli Family members. They may have been specifically targeting your wife."
The doctor's voice fades to background noise as Alessandro's heartbeat thunders in his ears. She had been carrying his child but lost it while fleeing for her life. And what was he doing? Lounging on a beach with Jessica, dismissing his wife's desperate call as a nuisance.
Just then, the butler knocks and enters, holding a tablet.
"Sir, you have a timed email, scheduled to arrive today."
Alessandro's hands shake as he opens the email. The first image that appears destroys him—a photo of him and Jessica kissing on the beach, timestamped exactly when Irina had called him.
Next come medical reports, pregnancy test results, miscarriage records—each document a knife to his heart.
The final photo shows the accident scene—a mangled sedan, blood everywhere, and a white dress soaked crimson.
At the end, just one line:
"Happy birthday, Alessandro. This is the last gift I will ever give you. From now on, the daughter of the Petrova family will have no further connection with the Moretti Family."
"No, no, NO!" Alessandro lets out an animal roar and smashes the tablet against the wall.
At that moment, the butler brings in another elegant gift bag—one Irina had left on her dressing table before departing.
With trembling hands, he opens it. Inside is a formal alliance termination agreement, along with a note containing an address and password. Following the instructions, he finds the blue diamond ring in the safe—the ring she had sold and then secretly redeemed.
At the bottom of the ring box lies a small note: "Since you believe this was just a transaction, let it return to where it belongs."
Alessandro falls to his knees, clutching the ring as he breaks down. He finally understands that she never intended to betray him or the family; she just wanted a child, a real family. And he, with his own hands, destroyed it all.
"Alessandro?" Jessica pushes open the door, taking in the shattered debris and the man kneeling on the floor. "What's wrong? What happened—"
"GET OUT!" Alessandro surges to his feet, his eyes burning with murderous rage. "This is all because of you! All because of you, you fucking whore!"
He grabs Jessica by the hair and slams her against the wall.
"Alessandro, have you lost your mind?" Jessica screams.
"You ruined everything! She was pregnant with my child, MY CHILD! And I ignored her cry for help because of garbage like you!" His voice cracks with self-loathing.
Jessica's eyes widen as understanding dawns. She tries to speak, to beg for mercy, but Alessandro is beyond reason.
"From now on, I never want to see you again," he releases her, and she crumples to the floor. "If you want to live, disappear from my sight forever."
Jessica clutches her face and staggers from the room.
Alessandro walks to the window and lets out a primal roar into the Chicago night. Then he grabs his phone and begins making calls.
"Marco, gather everyone. Find Irina at any cost."
"But boss, the Petrova Family—"
"I don't give a damn about the Petrovas! Even if we have to go to war with them, I WILL bring her back!"
