Chapter 5

It was 3:00 AM when I heard him at the door.

The handle rattled first, followed by the beep of the keypad. He tried the code. It denied him.

He tried again, more aggressively this time. Then, the frustration took over, and he started pounding on the wood.

"Elena! Open the door!"

I didn't move. I sat motionless in the living room, sipping a glass of wine that had long since gone warm.

He called my phone. I watched the screen light up on the coffee table, vibrating against the glass. I didn't answer.

Eventually, the pounding stopped. Silence reclaimed the hallway. He must have gone to stay at a hotel. Or back to Mia.

I slept on the couch, keeping my vigil.

The next morning, he used his key. He stormed in, looking disheveled, his tie undone and his eyes bloodshot.

"Why did you change the code?" he demanded, tossing his keys onto the console. "I was locked out all night!"

I looked up from my coffee, my expression unreadable. "I know."

He stopped short. He saw the ring sitting on the counter where I had left it.

He paled, the color draining from his face. "Elena, baby, listen. Last night... I was drunk. I didn't mean to leave you. I just... I felt bad for the girl. You know how I am. I have a hero complex."

"A hero complex," I repeated flatly, testing the absurdity of the words.

"Yes. I overreacted. I'm sorry." He tried to hug me, reaching out with desperate hands.

I stood up and moved away, putting the sofa between us. "Don't touch me."

He looked hurt, a practiced pout forming on his lips. "Come on, Elena. Don't be like this. The wedding is in two days. Look what I brought you."

He pointed to a garment bag hanging by the door. "Your dress came back from the final alterations. It's perfect."

It was a Vera Wang custom gown. It cost more than most people earned in a decade.

"Put it on," he urged, his voice softening into a wheedle. "Let me see you in it. It will make us feel better."

I stared at the white plastic bag. It didn't look like a wedding dress. It looked like a body bag.

"Okay," I said.

I took the dress into the bedroom. I put it on.

It fit perfectly. It corseted my waist and flared out in layers of silk and tulle. I looked like a fairy tale.

No. I looked like a sacrifice.

I walked out into the living room.

Dante's eyes widened. "Wow. Elena. You look... stunning."

He walked toward me, already reaching for his phone to take a picture.

Before he could snap the photo, his phone rang.

He looked at the screen. His face changed instantly. The smile vanished, replaced by a flash of panic.

"I have to take this," he said.

He walked to the balcony, sliding the glass door shut but failing to latch it. He didn't close the door all the way.

I moved closer, silent as a ghost. I stayed in the shadows of the curtain.

"Mia, stop crying," he hissed into the receiver. "I can't come over right now. She's trying on the dress... Yes, I know I promised... No, I don't love her. You know that. She's a statue. She's exhausting. You are my heart. You make me feel like a man."

I closed my eyes.

*She's a statue.*

"Okay, okay," Dante said, rubbing his temple. "I'm coming. I'll tell her it's a shipment issue. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

He hung up.

He walked back inside, composing his features into a mask of regret.

"Elena, I'm so sorry," he said. "There's a problem at the docks. A shipment of... goods... got seized. I have to go handle it personally."

"In the middle of the day?" I asked.

"It's urgent. Life or death." He kissed my cheek, his lips feeling like a brand. "You look beautiful. Take the dress off. Save it for the aisle."

He ran out the door.

I watched him go.

My phone buzzed.

It was a message from an unknown number.

It was a photo.

It was Dante and Mia. They were in a car. He was driving. His hand was resting intimately between her legs.

The caption read: *He came running.*

Something inside me snapped. It wasn't a loud snap. It was the quiet sound of a tether breaking, severing me from the person I used to be.

I went to the kitchen. I opened the utility drawer.

I took out the heavy-duty shears.

I walked back to the mirror. I looked at the dress.

I took the shears and drove them into the silk skirt.

I ripped. I cut. I destroyed.

I shredded the bodice. I hacked off the tulle.

White fabric fell to the floor like dead snow.

I stepped out of the ruins of the dress. I stood there in my underwear, surrounded by the wreckage of my future.

I felt light.

I picked up my phone. I opened the chat with Enzo.

*Come get me,* I typed.

The reply came three seconds later.

*Look out the window.*

I walked to the window.

Down on the street, parked directly in front of the building, was a convoy of three black SUVs.

In the middle sat a Rolls Royce Phantom. It was black, sleek, and predatory. The windows were tinted.

But the rear window rolled down.

A man sat there. He was wearing a black suit that fit him like armor. He had a scar running through his left eyebrow. His eyes were dark, dangerous, and locked on my window.

Enzo.

He was here.

He didn't wait three days. He came early.

I grabbed my bag. I stepped over the shredded dress without a downward glance.

I didn't look back.

I walked out the door, down the elevator, and into the lobby.

I pushed open the glass doors.

The air smelled like rain and freedom.

One of Enzo's guards opened the car door for me.

I slid into the leather seat.

Enzo was bigger than I remembered. He took up the entire space, radiating power. He smelled like tobacco and sandalwood.

He looked at me. He looked at my bare ring finger.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

He opened it.

Inside was a diamond. It was black. Sharp. Lethal.

"For my Queen," he said.

His voice was the truth.

I held out my hand.

He slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly.

"Drive," he told the driver.

As the car pulled away, I saw Dante's Ferrari speeding around the corner, coming back. He must have realized I knew.

He was too late.

I was gone.