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CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ava

The hotel room could be beautiful, if I bothered to notice. Floor-to-ceiling windows, designer furniture, views that go on and on, much like Stefano’s penthouse. But all I see are the exits I can't use, the doors I'm not allowed to open.

It’s a cage, no matter how gilded.

My wedding ring catches in the light, mocking me. The ceremony was hours ago, but it feels like another lifetime. Like something that happened to someone else.

Maybe it did. Maybe that girl who dreamed of Montana and freedom died somewhere between the diner and this room.

I pace the perimeter again, registering details out of habit. There are two guards outside the door. I can hear their quiet movements. There’s another team on the floor below, watching the windows. The ventilation system is too small for even my slender frame. The balcony is tempting, but the drop would...

I stop that thought cold. Potential suicide isn't my style. Never has been. The D'Amatos are survivors, if nothing else. We adapt. We plan. We find solutions others miss.

But right now, all my available options lead nowhere.

Tony's silence eats at me worse than any physical pain. Is he hurt? Scared? Does he hate me for getting him into this mess? The Fioris aren't known for their gentle handling of hostages.

My hand drifts to my stomach, the center of everything now. It’s the reason I can't run. The reason Stefano won't let me go. The reason everything's falling apart.

No. Not the reason. Just the final complication in a game I played badly from the start.

The room's phone sits silent on the desk. I check it anyway, for the hundredth time. Nothing from my Fiori contact. Nothing from Tony. Nothing from anyone.

Just silence and guilt and the weight of choices I can't take back.

A wave of nausea hits again but I make it to the bathroom just in time, heaving up whatever's left in my stomach. The marble wall is cool against my forehead as I sit there, trying to breathe through it.

"Some con artist you turned out to be," I mutter to my reflection. The woman in the mirror looks like a stranger—pale face, red eyes, designer clothes that feel like a costume.

Mrs. Rega. The title sits wrong, like shoes that don't quite fit.

But it's who I am now. Who I'll always be.

Unless I can find a way to fix this mess. To save everyone without destroying everything.

My father's voice echoes in my head: "There's always another angle, piccola . Always a way out. You just have to be willing to see it."

I stand up, splashing water on my face. Time to think like a professional. Time to find that angle.

I have a lot to make up for.

* * *

Hours pass, as shadows lengthen across the hotel room floor. I've counted every ceiling tile, noted every security camera angle, memorized the patrol patterns of the guards outside my door.

The windows draw me like a magnet. Chicago spreads out below me, glittering and indifferent. Somewhere out there, Tony's being held by people who think nothing of breaking bones and murdering to make a point. Somewhere out there, the Fiori family is planning their next move.

And here I am, wearing a wedding ring that feels like handcuffs.

I start pacing again.

What do I know? What can I use?

The club is clean. That's why I couldn't find anything to report to the Fioris. Stefano runs it legitimately, protects his girls, keeps everything above board.

The girls. God, what will happen to them if Stefano hands over the club? The Fioris aren't known for their ethical treatment of employees. Kira, Mattina, all of them—they don't deserve to pay for my mistakes.

My pacing takes me past the bathroom, and I catch another glimpse of myself before returning to the bedroom.

"Think," I mutter, pulling a hotel notepad toward me. "Professional. Strategic."

My hands shake slightly as I start mapping out what I know.

The Fioris want the club. The girls will suffer. They have Tony. From what I’ve heard so far, they’ve moved him to a new location, to prevent an attack at their base from Stefano.

But Stefano had already decided against it. He's willing to trade. More than the club.

The baby changes everything.

I think about the last point longer than the others. Because it does change everything, doesn't it? Not just my ability to run, but Stefano's choices too. He's not just protecting me anymore—he's protecting his heir.

The thought makes me pause, pen hovering over my notes.

Stefano Rega, third son turned empire builder, about to give up part of his territory. For what? A woman who betrayed him? A brother-in-law he barely knows?

No. For his child.

The realization hits hard. He's not just making a trade. He's dismantling everything he's built to protect our baby's future. To keep us safe.

To give us what we need, even if it costs him everything.

"Dammit, Stefano," I whisper, crumpling the paper in my fist. Because this is exactly what I was trying to prevent by running. This sacrifice. This destruction of everything he's worked for.

I press my hands flat against the desk to stop their shaking. Options. I need options.

The Fioris want power. Territory. Control.

Stefano wants me safe. The baby safe. Tony alive.

I want...

What do I want?

Freedom seems like such a simple answer now. Such a childish dream compared to the reality we're facing.

Because the truth is, I want more than that. I want Tony safe. I want the club girls protected. I want my child to have a future that isn't built on their father's ruined empire.

I want Stefano to stop looking at me like I broke something precious between us.

Any moment now, Stefano will make that trade to save my brother. To protect me, even though I've given him every reason not to.

And I'm sitting here, using all my training to what? Write lists? Feel sorry for myself?

My father would be ashamed. My mother would be laughing.

Because they taught me better than this. Taught me that when the game changes, you adapt. When the rules don't work, you make new ones.

When everything's falling apart, you find a way to put it back together.

Even if it means sacrificing pieces of yourself in the process.

Through the walls, I hear muted activity, guards changing shifts, phones buzzing, the machinery of Stefano's organization preparing for the exchange.

I force myself to really look at what Stefano's offering to sacrifice. The club is just the beginning.

For my safety.

For our child.

My hands shake as I pour a glass of water, trying to steady myself. This isn't the Stefano I thought I knew, the ruthless boss, the man they call Monster. This is someone else.

This is the boy who promised to follow me to the ends of the earth.

The man who said he loved me just yesterday.

This is a father willing to burn his empire to protect his child.

"Oh God," I whisper, the glass slipping from my fingers to shatter on the floor. Because I've been so wrong. So blind.

I wasn't the only one trying to protect people. Wasn't the only one making impossible choices.

While I was running, he was planning to sacrifice everything to keep us safe. While I was lying, he was preparing to give up his life's work for a child he just found out about.

While I was breaking his heart, he was finding ways to save us all.

Even if it meant destroying himself in the process.

The pieces of broken glass glitter, reflecting truths I've been too scared to face. About him. About us. About what love really means in this dark world we inhabit.

And suddenly, sitting here in this beautiful prison, watching the man I love prepare to destroy himself to save me, I realize I can't let him do this.

I won't.

Minutes pass with no word from anyone. No threatening calls from the Fioris. No word from my husband and his team. Just silence that weighs heavier by the minute.

I start pacing, running through old cons in my head, looking for anything that might help us now.

The sound of the door opening makes me freeze. Stefano stands in the doorway, his silhouette sharp against the hallway lights. Even exhausted, even hurting, he radiates that controlled power that drew me to him from the start.

"The exchange is set," he says without preamble. "Two hours. The club and half the southern routes for your brother."

The clinical way he describes giving up his empire makes my chest ache. "You can't."

"It's done." He steps into the room but maintains his distance. Always so careful now, where once he couldn't keep his hands off me. "The paperwork is being drawn up."

"The girls?—"

"Will be given severance packages. Enough to start over somewhere else." His voice is flat, emotionless. "I take care of my people, Ava. Even when I'm being forced to let them go."

The guilt threatens to choke me. Because this is my fault. All of it.

"There has to be another way." I step toward him, glass crunching under my feet. "Something we haven't thought of?—"

"The Fioris won't negotiate and if we attack them, I can’t guarantee your brother’s safety." Finally, a crack in his control, the frustration bleeding through. "They want territory. Power. A foothold in Chicago that buying the club legitimately would never give them."

"And you're just going to give it to them?"

"For Tony's life? For your safety?" His laugh is bitter. "In a heartbeat."

"I never asked for this." The words come out small, broken. "I never wanted you to destroy everything you've built."

"No." He moves closer, close enough that I can see the exhaustion on his face, the worry lines around his eyes. "You just wanted to run. To take my child and disappear. To decide all our fates without giving me a chance to protect you."

Each accusation lands hard. Because he's right. I did try to control everything. I did try to make all the choices myself. Just like I’ve accused him of doing.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, and mean it more than I've ever meant anything. "I was so focused on protecting everyone that I couldn't see you were trying to do the same thing."

Something shifts in his expression—surprise, maybe. Or hope. "And now?"

"Now..." I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. "Now I think it's time we started working together instead of against each other."

"It's too late for that." But he doesn't move away when I step closer. "The deal is made."

"Then unmake it." Another step. "You're Stefano fucking Rega. The man they call Monster. Since when do you let anyone dictate terms to you?"

"Since they took my wife's brother. Since they threatened my child."

I flinch, because he's right. This is my fault. All of it.

"There has to be another way," I try, but the words sound hollow even to me.

"There isn't." He turns to leave, then pauses in the doorway. "The exchange is at midnight. Try to get some rest before then."

I watch him go, unable to find words to stop him. Unable to fix what I've broken.

The silence returns, heavier than before, and I have to face the consequences of all my choices.

And for the first time in my life, I have no plan. No angle. No clever con to make it all better.

Just the crushing weight of knowing I've destroyed everything I touched.

Including the one man who might have actually loved me.