Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Isabella's POV
I moved silently through Villa Salvatore's marble corridors, heart pounding with each step toward freedom. Marco was unconscious in the sitting room, the sedative finally taking effect. Connor would be waiting behind the cypress grove.
This is it. This is my escape.
The sound of silk rustling against marble made me freeze. I turned to see Sigrid emerging from the shadows near the grand staircase, wearing a cream La Perla nightgown.
"Going somewhere, bella?" Her Swedish accent made the endearment sound mocking.
"Just taking some air," I replied, not breaking stride.
"At this hour?" She stepped into my path. "Or are you running away like the coward you've always been?"
I faced her directly. "What do you want, Sigrid?"
"What I want is for you to stop this ridiculous escape fantasy." She moved closer, something glinting in her hand. "Because I know exactly what you've been hiding."
My breath caught. She was holding the pregnancy test—the one I'd thrown away in the servants' bathroom.
"Where did you get that?"
"I've been watching you, Isabella. The morning sickness, touching your stomach. Very predictable." She held up the test, the two pink lines clearly visible. "I've known for weeks that you're pregnant."
My hands clenched into fists. "What do you want?"
"I want you to accept your role. You're carrying a Salvatore heir." She set the test on a nearby marble table like evidence in a trial. "That makes you valuable."
"I'm not staying here."
"Oh, but you are." Sigrid's voice turned silky smooth. "Because if you try to run, I'll make sure Marco knows exactly what you've been hiding from him."
The threat hit like ice water. Marco's reaction to discovering I was pregnant—and had been hiding it—would be swift and violent.
"Can you imagine his face when he finds out?" Sigrid pressed on. "His precious Isabella, lying to him about carrying his child?"
I forced myself to breathe steadily. "Sigrid, we don't have to be enemies."
"Don't we?" Her laugh was bitter. "You're the woman Marco can't forget. How could we ever be anything but enemies?"
"Because I'm leaving," I said quietly. "I'm walking out of this house tonight, and I'm never coming back."
Something flickered in her blue eyes—surprise, then cautious interest.
"If I disappear," I continued, "Marco will eventually forget about me. He'll move on. And when he does, you'll be here. You'll be the one he turns to."
"You're lying."
"Am I?" I moved closer. "Sigrid, you've been in love with Marco for years. You've waited, planned, sacrificed everything for a chance to be his donna. I'm offering you that chance."
She was listening now, her grip on the pregnancy test loosening slightly.
"All I want is to leave. To disappear completely. To raise this child somewhere Marco will never find us. In exchange, you get what you've always wanted—Marco Salvatore."
"And if he comes looking for you?"
"He won't. Not if you're there to help him heal." I paused. "You could be the woman who saves him from his obsession."
Sigrid stared at me for a long moment, conflict playing across her features.
"You promise?" she whispered. "You swear you'll never come back?"
"I swear it," I said firmly. "On my unborn child's life."
The silence stretched between us. Then, slowly, Sigrid set the pregnancy test down.
"You have one hour," she said quietly. "After that, I tell Marco everything."
Relief flooded through me. "Thank you."
"Just... keep your promise, Isabella."
I headed for the servants' entrance. "Take care of him. He's more fragile than he seems."

The marble corridors felt different now—like a memory I was leaving behind. I moved quietly through the shadows, avoiding the patrol routes I'd memorized.
Almost there. Just a few more steps to freedom.
The servants' entrance led to a narrow path through the estate's Italian cypress grove. Connor had chosen this spot carefully—hidden from the main house but close enough to the perimeter for a quick escape.
I pushed through the heavy wooden door and stepped into the cool night air. The scent of Mediterranean herbs filled my lungs.
"Connor?" I called softly.
A figure emerged from behind the towering cypress trees. Connor wore dark civilian clothes instead of his usual suit. In his hand, he held two train tickets.
"Isabella." His voice was rough with emotion. "I was starting to think you'd changed your mind."
"Never," I breathed, crossing the distance between us.
He caught me in his arms, spinning me around. When he set me down, his hands cupped my face with infinite gentleness.
"Are you ready for this?" he asked.
"I've never been more ready for anything in my life."
Connor's smile was radiant. "Chicago first. Then Las Vegas. Then anywhere you want to go."
"Anywhere we want to go," I corrected.
"We're free, Isabella," he whispered against my hair. "We're finally free."
I pulled back to look at him, memorizing his face—the way his blue eyes crinkled when he smiled, the gentle curve of his mouth.
"I love you," I said.
"I love you too." He leaned down to kiss me, and I rose on my toes to meet him halfway.
The kiss was soft, sweet, full of promises for the future. This was what love felt like—not possession or obsession, but choice and freedom.
When we broke apart, Connor rested his forehead against mine.
"Ready to catch that train?"
"More than ready."
We turned toward the estate's outer wall, where Connor had arranged for a car to be waiting. The night stretched before us, full of possibility.
Then I heard it—the low rumble of a powerful engine, getting closer.
"Connor," I whispered, suddenly uneasy.
He'd heard it too. His body went tense, one hand moving instinctively toward his jacket.
"It's probably just estate security," he said, but his voice lacked conviction.
The engine sound grew louder, more aggressive. Through the cypress branches, I caught a glimpse of headlights moving at high speed.
"Run," Connor said urgently. "Get to the wall. Now."
But it was too late.
A black Cadillac SUV burst through the cypress grove like a predator emerging from the shadows. The headlights were blinding, turning the peaceful night into a nightmare of light and sound.
I had one heartbeat to register the vehicle's trajectory—aimed directly at us with deadly precision.
One heartbeat to see Connor's face transform from love to terror.
One heartbeat to understand that our escape had been a trap all along.
Then the SUV slammed into us with the force of a freight train.
The impact lifted me off my feet, sending me flying through the air like a broken doll. Time slowed as I spun through the darkness, Connor's scream echoing in my ears.
I hit the gravel pathway with bone-crushing force, the world exploding into stars and agony. The taste of blood filled my mouth, and I could feel warmth spreading across my skin.
My baby. Oh God, my baby.
Through the haze of pain, I could hear Connor groaning somewhere nearby. The SUV's engine had gone silent, and car doors were opening with sharp metallic clicks.
This can't be happening. We were so close.