Chapter 5

Elena POV

I bought a studio.

It was a run-down garage near the docks in the Algarve, a hollowed-out shell where the walls were peeling, the floor was stained with decades of oil, and the air smelled thick with brine. To anyone else, it was a ruin. To me, it was perfect.

I spent my days sanding.

Manual labor offered a different kind of exhaustion than the emotional fatigue of being Mrs. Paletti. My muscles ached with a dull, satisfying throb. I had splinters embedded in my fingers, and my manicure was ruined beyond repair.

I loved every second of it.

I was sanding down a heavy oak beam, lost in the rhythm of friction and dust, when a shadow fell across the open doorway.

My heart stopped cold. Instinct took over; I gripped the block of sandpaper like a weapon, my knuckles turning white as I spun around.

But it wasn't Dante.

It was a local man-tall, with streaks of paint on his jeans and a kind, weathered face that held no malice.

"You are making a lot of dust for one small woman," he said in heavily accented English.

I exhaled, the air rushing out of my lungs as my knees shook slightly. "I'm renovating."

"I am Ciro. I own the gallery next door. Your dust is... how do you say... invading my space." He smiled, and the warmth of it actually reached his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said, lowering my makeshift weapon. "I'm Hope."

"Hope." He tested the name on his tongue, tasting the weight of it. "A heavy name to carry."

"You have no idea," I muttered.

He didn't ask who I was, why I jumped at shadows, or where I came from. He just handed me a bottle of water and offered to help me move a heavy drafting table.

I let him.

For the first time in my life, a man helped me without expecting a transaction.

*

Back in Chicago, the war was starting.

Lucia forwarded me an email that evening. Dante was trying to bribe me.

*Offer: $10 Million lump sum. The Villa in Tuscany. Full custody of any future children (negotiable). Condition: Return immediately. Issue public statement of reconciliation.*

I laughed. I actually laughed out loud, the sound echoing off the bare walls of my dusty, empty studio.

He thought the Villa in Tuscany was a reward? That was where he took me for our honeymoon. That was where I spent two weeks watching him take business calls by the pool while I ate dinner alone, staring at the empty chair opposite me.

I typed a reply to Lucia.

*Response: No.*

Then, my fingers hovering over the keys, I added: *Tell him if he contacts me again, I send the video of him discussing the 'disposal' of the Russian rivals to the FBI. The statute of limitations hasn't run out on conspiracy to commit murder.*

It was a bluff. Mostly. I didn't want to be a rat; that could get me killed for real. But Dante didn't know what I had. Fear was the only leverage I had left.

Dante POV

"She said no."

Arturo placed the printout on my desk with a trembling hand. He looked tired. We all were. The family was bleeding money because I was too distracted to manage the unions, too consumed by the ghost of a woman who was supposed to be mine.

"Ten million dollars," I whispered, the words tasting like ash. "She turned down ten million dollars."

"She threatened the FBI, Dante. She's gone rogue."

I walked to the liquor cabinet, needing to burn the frustration out of my throat. I reached for the crystal decanter of vintage cognac-the one I saved for special occasions, the one Elena had bought me for my birthday last year.

It was gone.

I stared at the empty shelf, blinking.

Right. The cleaning crew. They had reported missing items. She hadn't just left. She had raided the place.

"She took the booze," I said, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my chest, sharp and jagged. "She took the fucking booze, Arturo."

"Boss, you need to focus. The Commission is asking questions. They say you can't control your house. If you can't control your wife, how can you control the city?"

I slammed my fist into the cabinet, shattering the glass door. Pain exploded in my hand, blood dripping from my knuckles to mix with the shards on the floor.

"She thinks she can destroy me?" I snarled, turning to face him, not bothering to check the wound. "She thinks she can erase me?"

I wiped the blood on my suit pants, leaving a dark streak against the expensive fabric.

"Put a bounty out. Not a hit. A retrieval. Five million to anyone who finds Hope Veretti."

Arturo's eyes widened. "You know her alias?"

"Lucia slipped up. She registered a domain name for a photography site. 'Hope Veretti Photography'."

I walked to the window, looking out at the city that felt smaller, greyer than it used to.

"She wants to be an artist? Fine. I'll be her patron. Find her, Arturo. Bring her home. And bring the shackles."

Elena POV

I finished hanging the last photo on the pristine white wall of my newly renovated studio.

It was a picture of the melted gold nugget. I had taken it with a macro lens, blowing it up until the ugly lump looked like an alien landscape-craters and valleys of destroyed ambition.

I titled it: *The Price of Admission.*

Ciro walked in, wiping paint from his hands. He stood next to me, looking at the photo in silence.

"It looks like pain," he said softly.

"It is," I answered, crossing my arms. "But it's over now."

My phone buzzed in my pocket, vibrating against my hip. A news alert from Chicago.

*BREAKING: Paletti Crime Family Under Investigation. Anonymous Leak Exposes Internal Corruption.*

I froze. I hadn't leaked it.

I stared at the screen, my pulse quickening. If I hadn't leaked it... who did?

Then I saw the second headline.

*FBI Raids Paletti Warehouse. Tip-off linked to 'disgruntled associate'.*

Jade.

I realized with a jolt of ice-cold clarity that I wasn't the only woman Dante had underestimated. Jade wasn't just a pregnant mistress. She was a woman scorned, abandoned, and desperate. She knew the secrets because she had been trying to replace me in the bed where he whispered them.

Dante wasn't just fighting me anymore. He was fighting the consequences of his own sins, coming at him from all sides.

And I was just watching the fire from across the ocean, wondering if the heat would reach me here.

I touched the shark tooth necklace I had bought at a local market-a cheap, plastic thing I wore as a joke to myself, a talisman of a predator.

"Let it burn," I whispered.

"What?" Ciro asked, turning to me.

"Nothing." I turned to him, forcing a smile. "Just... I think I'm ready for the grand opening."

But deep down, I knew the opening act was just finishing. The main event-the fall of Dante Paletti-was just beginning. And I had front row seats.