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I push the car harder, redlining every corner, weaving through traffic like the city owes me its roads. Horns blare. Lights blur. My pulse pounds against my ribs like a war drum.

Dario turns to me. “If she’s hurt?—”

“She won’t be,” I snap. But the fear is clawing up my throat like smoke in a burning house.

The penthouse isn’t just a home. It’s supposed to be a fortress.

But now it feels like a trap.

You promised me, amore—stay alive.

I grip the wheel tighter.Just hold on.

I’m coming for you.

And may God have mercy on the one who dared touch you—because I won’t.

27

MARIA

The woman in front of me is wearing Emily’s face—but there’s a stranger staring back.

Her eyes don’t blink. Her smile doesn’t reach her soul.

And I finally understand—I was never safe here.

There’s no trace of the kind, composed woman I once trusted.

Murder—that’s what I see in her eyes now. Deranged. Focused.

The woman I once knew is gone. In her place stands something brittle and rabid—eyes wide, jaw clenched, teetering on the edge of madness.

She clutches the knife tightly in her hand, her knuckles white from the force of her grip. Her lips curl into a bitter smile, her breathing uneven.

“You were meant to be dead,” she spits out through gritted teeth. “I gave you double the poison. Why didn’t you die!”

My breath catches. Ginny clutches onto my hand tightly, and I feel the rush of blood move past my ears. My heart hammershard in my chest, the adrenaline triggering my emergency response.

I swallow hard, taking a slow step back and pulling Ginny with me. “Emily, please… you don’t have to do this. Just talk to me.”

“No, we’re past talking! You should’ve stayed gone!” She waves the knife and then points it right at me. “You need to leave so that I can keep him. Things were better when you weren’t here. You were never supposed to come here, that wasn’t the plan! Why didn’t you die like her!”

My stomach turns. So it’s true—every lingering look, every carefully placed lie—it was all her. She wanted me gone from the start.

Ginny shifts subtly in front of me, placing herself in Emily’s line of sight.

“Emily, listen to me. You don’t want to do this. This isn’t you.”

Her voice is calm, firm. But I see the tension in her jaw—she’s gauging every twitch of that knife.

“Just put it down. We can walk away. No one else has to get hurt.”

But Emily keeps going, her voice rising with every word, her eyes locked on me like I’m the only thing she sees. “Matteo was never meant for you. I was there before you. I took care of him, I understood him. And then you showed up, and suddenly, you matter?” She shakes her head violently.

“He looks at you like you’re the only thing that exists. He touches you like he’s forgotten everyone who came before.” Her voice quivers, steeped in resentment. “You stole him.”

“Emily, stop,” Ginny cuts in. “You don’t need to do this. Matteo doesn’t love her. You were right all along.”