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I tuck the photo into my bag, sling it over my shoulder, and head for the door. No note. No explanation. Just the emptiness Marco will find when he returns, searching for a wife who is no longer his.

As I slip out of the mansion, avoiding the security guards and cameras, I feel something breaking inside me. The pain is exquisite, like glass shards tearing through tissue.

I loved him. Despite everything, I loved him.

But love isn’t enough when it’s built on lies and the blood of my family.

22

MARCO

Islam through the front door, my mind still wrestling with excuses, explanations, anything that might make Aria understand. The emergency at the docks was nothing compared to the real emergency that waits at home—how to keep her. How to make her stay.

I call her name into the echoing silence of our home, and something cold slithers down my spine when only emptiness answers back.

“Aria?” I take the stairs two at a time, my heartbeat accelerating with each empty room I pass. Her bedroom sits pristine and vacant, the bed made as if she were never there.

The closet door stands ajar. I yank it open to find gaps where her clothes should be, her side picked clean like a carcass. My hands clench into fists, knuckles white with restraint as I fight the urge to punch through the nearest wall.

“GIUSEPPE!” I roar, stalking back into the hallway. My head of security appears almost instantly, his face carefully blank. “Where is my wife?”

“Sir, I?—”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know.” My voice drops to that dangerous register that makes even hardened killers step back. “She’s gone. How did she leave without anyone seeing?”

Giuseppe swallows visibly. “We’re checking the security footage now, sir. She must have?—”

“Find her,” I cut him off, each word slicing through the air like a blade. “I want every man we have looking. Check her sister’s place first. Call our contacts in the city. Shut down every road out if you have to.”

“Yes, sir.”

“NOW!” I bellow, sending him scurrying.

My hands are numb, but I feel an inferno in my chest. Fear. Raw and primitive. After what I revealed this morning, what she discovered about my family, where would she go? What would she do?

And worse—what danger would find her?

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Aria? I snatch it out, disappointment crushing my chest when I see it’s not her.

“What?” I snap into the receiver.

“Boss,” Nicolo’s voice is breathless, urgent. “You need to see this. Please come to the security room. Now.”

I’m already moving before he finishes speaking, taking the back stairs at a dangerous pace. The security room sits in the basement, walls lined with monitors displaying every angle of my property. Three of my men huddle around a single screen, their faces grim.

“Show me,” I demand, shoving between them.

Nicolo taps a key, and the footage rewinds. “This is from the east gate camera, three hours ago.”

I see her in my mind—laughing on the balcony just yesterday, bare feet on marble, sunlight in her hair. Unaware. Unbothered. Mine.

And now…

The timestamp shows Aria leaving the property alone, a small bag slung over her shoulder. She moves with purpose, her chin high despite the sobbing I can see through the movement of her shoulders even on the grainy footage. My chest constricts at the sight of her walking away from me, looking so utterly devastated.

“Keep watching,” Nicolo says quietly.

She makes it halfway down the street when a black SUV screeches to a halt beside her. Two men jump out, grabbing her before she can react. She struggles furiously as they drag her into the vehicle. Her bag drops to the pavement, contents spilling across the sidewalk. The SUV peels away.