Chapter 297 — Nowhere Left to Go
Chapter 297 — Nowhere Left to Go
“Matthew, handle this immediately.”
Dario Moretti’s voice was sharp with urgency as he paced back and forth outside the Commissariat de Police in Monaco. The stone pavement beneath his shoes echoed faintly with each restless step, but the sound did nothing to ease the tension coiling tightly inside him.
His phone was pressed firmly against his ear, his grip tight enough to whiten his knuckles.
“I cannot let Hazel stay in jail,” he added, his tone firm, almost strained.
The cool night air brushed against his face, carrying the distant hum of the city. Yet even the fresh breeze could not calm the storm of frustration and worry raging inside him.
On the other end of the call, Matthew remained calm, his voice steady and composed despite the urgency in Dario’s.
“Give me a moment, Dario,” Matthew replied. “I’ll see what I can arrange here in Monaco to get immediate legal assistance.”
Dario closed his eyes briefly.
He trusted Matthew. If there was anyone who could move quickly and make things happen, it was him.
Still, the waiting felt unbearable.
“Please hurry,” Dario said quietly.
The call ended.
The line went dead.
Dario slipped the phone back into his coat pocket and rubbed his temples as he exhaled slowly. Impatience gnawed at him like a relentless ache.
Hazel was inside that building.
Behind locked doors.
Behind cold walls.
And she was six months pregnant.
The thought alone tightened his chest.
He had promised Elena he would make sure Hazel was safe. He had looked into his wife’s worried eyes and given her his word.
No matter what happened, he would protect Hazel.
Dario Moretti never broke a promise.
“Mr. Moretti.”
The voice came suddenly, cutting through his thoughts.
Dario turned.
A tall man dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit approached him with measured steps. The man carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone accustomed to authority.
“Good evening,” the stranger said politely.
“My name is Victor Duval.”
He paused before continuing.
“I’ve been instructed by Lord Torres to secure his wife’s release.”
Dario blinked in mild surprise.
For a brief moment, he said nothing.
He had not expected Torres to send anyone.
Not after the way the Duke had stood there earlier at the manor, watching his pregnant wife get arrested without lifting a finger.
That cold, distant expression was still fresh in Dario’s memory.
“Mr. Duval,” Dario replied at last, extending his hand.
Victor shook it firmly.
Still, Dario’s gaze remained sharp as he studied the man carefully.
“You have the necessary paperwork?” Dario asked.
Victor nodded without hesitation.
“Everything has been arranged.”
His tone carried professional confidence.
“I will ensure the process is handled as quickly as possible.”
Dario gave a short nod.
“Good,” he said.
His expression hardened slightly.
“Let’s finish this.”
His eyes shifted toward the police building.
“Hazel does not belong in there.”
Without wasting another second, the two men strode toward the entrance of the police station. Their footsteps echoed along the quiet corridor inside as they approached the front desk.
Every minute mattered.
Back at Monte Carlo Manor, the atmosphere remained heavy with tension.
Elena had just finished putting her infant daughter to sleep. She gently adjusted the blanket around the baby, making sure she was warm and comfortable.
The little girl slept peacefully, completely unaware of the chaos surrounding her family.
In another room, Lila and Leo sat quietly on the couch watching television.
They had already eaten dinner, but their usual lively energy was gone. The children were unusually quiet.
Even they could feel that something was wrong.
Elena stepped into the hallway just as the front door opened.
Dario had returned.
She hurried toward him immediately.
Camille followed close behind.
Both women’s faces were filled with anxious hope.
But the moment they saw Dario standing alone, their expressions changed.
Hazel was not with him.
“Where is Hazel?” Elena asked quickly.
Her voice trembled slightly with worry.
Dario stepped closer to her.
“Amore mio,” he began gently.
He tried to soften his voice.
“Hazel is fine.”
Elena searched his face desperately.
“She has been released on bail,” he continued.
Relief flashed across Elena’s expression.
But it vanished almost instantly.
Dario’s expression darkened.
“She refused to come home.”
The words hung heavily in the air.
“And I could not force her.”
His gaze shifted briefly toward Torres, who had just stepped out of his room and now stood silently in the hallway.
The Duke said nothing.
He simply watched.
“But where did she go?” Camille asked.
Her voice trembled with guilt.
Dario turned respectfully toward her.
“Mother,” he replied calmly.
“I dropped her at her parents’ house.”
“At her request.”
Silence filled the room.
Then suddenly—
Torres moved.
Without warning, he strode quickly toward the exit.
His jaw was clenched tightly, his expression unreadable.
He did not explain where he was going.
He did not even look at anyone.
He simply walked out.
The door shut behind him.
Camille released a deep sigh, her shoulders sagging as sadness filled her eyes.
She could not stop thinking about her son’s behavior toward his wife.
Perhaps it was simply part of their bloodline.
A bitter thought crept into her mind.
Men born into powerful noble families had always treated marriage differently.
For them, wives were often just part of a political arrangement.
A title.
A responsibility.
Many noble husbands neglected their wives, treating them as disposable.
They found comfort elsewhere.
In the arms of other women.
And when a wife became inconvenient, she could always be replaced.
It had always been that way.
And perhaps it always would be.
Meanwhile—
Hazel stood inside her childhood home.
Her body felt weak.
But her heart felt even weaker.
She stood before her father, who stared at her with cold, unfeeling eyes.
His expression carried nothing but irritation.
“Why did you come here?” he barked.
His voice was sharp and unforgiving.
Hazel’s hands trembled slightly.
Only moments earlier, she had poured her heart out.
She had explained everything.
How Chloe falsely accused her.
How she had been arrested.
How humiliating the entire situation had been.
But none of it seemed to matter.
Her father’s face remained cold.
“This is not your home anymore,” he said harshly.
The words struck her like a blade.
“You are married.”
“Go back to your husband.”
“And do whatever he tells you.”
“That is your duty as his wife.”
Hazel felt her throat tighten painfully.
“But Father… I can’t endure it anymore,” she pleaded softly.
Her voice trembled.
Her father waved his hand dismissively.
“I don’t care.”
His tone carried open annoyance.
“You think we can afford to anger Lord Torres?”
His eyes narrowed.
“He funds our businesses.”
“Everything we own exists because of this marriage.”
His voice dropped lower.
More dangerous.
“If you destroy this arrangement…”
He leaned closer.
His teeth clenched tightly.
“I will kill you myself, you useless wretch.”
Hazel froze.
His words pierced her like ice.
Slowly, she turned toward her mother.
Looking for comfort.
For sympathy.
For love.
But her mother refused to meet her eyes.
Her expression remained distant.
Cold.
Just like her father’s.
The last fragile hope inside Hazel shattered.
“Return to your husband,” her older brother Archer sneered.
His tone was filled with hostility.
“Before Lord Torres becomes even angrier.”
The room suddenly felt suffocating.
Hazel struggled to breathe.
She had believed her family would protect her.
She thought this house would be her refuge.
But now it felt like she was surrounded by strangers.
Neither her husband’s home nor her parents’ house belonged to her anymore.
She was alone.
Completely alone.
The question spun endlessly through her mind.
Where could she go now?
What place in the world still belonged to her?
Hazel left the house quietly.
No one tried to stop her.
No one followed her.
She walked slowly through the streets without direction.
The sky grew darker.
Evening turned into night.
Her body grew weaker with every step.
Her stomach ached with hunger.
Eventually, she reached a quiet bus stop.
An empty bench sat beneath a dim streetlight.
Hazel lowered herself onto it slowly.
Her hand instinctively rested over her swollen belly.
Her baby.
The only person in the world who still belonged to her.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she whispered softly.
Her voice was barely audible.
“I couldn’t give you a happy family.”
“I couldn’t give you a safe home.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
She wiped it away quickly.
But more followed.
She cried silently.
Overwhelmed by loneliness.
The quiet night stretched endlessly around her.
Then suddenly—
A loud screech shattered the silence.
Tires scraped harshly against the asphalt.
A car stopped abruptly in front of the bus stop.
Its headlights shone directly into Hazel’s eyes.
She flinched.
The bright light blinded her for a moment.
Hazel raised her hand to shield her eyes.
Slowly, she squinted through the glare—
Trying to see who had just arrived.