Chapter 30 Chapter 30

Chapter 30 Chapter 30
Elara’s POV

The Glock kicked hard in my hand, the recoil stabbing straight into the fresh incision across my gut. Fuck. I was still healing and here I was trying to kill the man I used to think could save me.

Dante didn’t fall or scream. He just staggered back one step, his hand flying up to catch the edge of the doorframe as the white silk of his shirt began to blossom with a dark, heavy crimson. The bullet had caught him high, near the shoulder, not a kill shot, but enough to tear through muscle and bone.

Lorenzo stood frozen in the center of the foyer, his hands up, eyes darting between my shaking grip on the weapon and the blood dripping onto the floors. 

Marco and the other two guards had their guns out before the casing hit the floor, three red laser dots were dancing across my chest, centering right over my heart, and the life inside me.

“Lower the guns,” Dante rasped. 

“Dante, she shot you!” Marco yelled, his finger twitching on the trigger.

“I said lower them,” Dante repeated, his eyes locking onto mine. “She’s not going to do it again. Are you, Elara?”

I didn't lower the gun. My arms were trembling so hard I could barely keep the sights leveled at his throat. 

“Stay away from me. I mean it, Dante. I will put the next one in your head.”

He took a step forward, ignoring the way his breath hitched. The blood was flowing faster now, staining the floor.“A bullet doesn’t change shit, Elara. You’re still a Moretti. That kid inside you is mine. You go where I fucking say.”

“There is no contract,” I whispered, the tears finally burning hot against my cheeks. “There’s no contract anymore,” I whispered, tears burning my eyes. “There’s no us. You stood there while Isabella told me you killed my father. You didn’t even fucking deny it. You just looked at me like I was another tool.”

“I did what I had to do. The Rossis needed to be locked in. Leverage is leverage.”

“You’re a monster,” I shouted.

“I’m the monster you fucking married.” he replied.

That was it. The last string of hope I didn't even know I was holding onto snapped. There was nothing left to save. No hidden heart, no secret tenderness. Just a man and his greed.

“Lorenzo,” I said, not taking my eyes off Dante. “Now.”

Lorenzo didn't hesitate. He grabbed a heavy ball like utensil from the side table and hurled it at the glass chandelier above the foyer. The explosion of crystal and light was enough of a distraction. Marco and the guards flinched, their eyes tracking the falling glass.

“Run, Elara!” Lorenzo screamed.

I turned and bolted for the kitchen. I knew the service exit was the only way out that wasn't blocked by a black SUV. I could hear the shouting behind me, the heavy thud of boots, and Dante’s voice ordering them to take me alive.

I hit the rainy night, my lungs burned, and the pain in my abdomen was a hot flare that made my vision blur, but I didn't stop. I ran through the woods bordering the estate, the mud sucking at my shoes, the branches tearing at my skin. 

I didn't have a plan. 

I just had the gun in my hand and a burner phone in my pocket.

I reached the main road, my breath coming in jagged gasps. I looked like a ghost, pale, soaked, and covered in blood. 

Ding.

The phone in my pocket vibrated. I pulled it out with trembling fingers.

Transfer Complete. $100,000,000.00.

I almost laughed. I was probably the richest woman in the world, and I was currently hiding in a ditch, waiting for a taxi that would probably never come. I flagged down a passing delivery truck, waving my arms like a madwoman. The driver stopped, looking terrified as I climbed into the cab.

“The city,” I said, shoving a wad of wet hundreds into his hand. “Please, don’t ask questions. Just drive.”

An hour later, I was standing in the shadows across from Bellevue. It was the only place left. The only place where I was certain I would get help.

I was exhausted and my head was spinning. I walked into the ER entrance, my hood pulled low. The intake nurse looked up, her eyes widening as she recognized me.

“Dr. Vance?” she whispered. “We heard…..wait, you’re bleeding.”

“It’s not mine,” I said, leaning heavily on the desk. “I need to see Dr. Vane, privately.”

“He’s in his office, but he’s under guard, Elara. The police….”

“I don't care about the police,” I snapped. “Tell him Elara is here.”

She hesitated, then picked up the phone. Two minutes later, I was being ushered through the back corridors.

I found him in the same office, Silas Vane wasn't surprised to see me. He was sitting at his desk, a fresh file open in front of him. He looked at me, then at the blood on my hands.

“You shot him,” Silas noted, his voice devoid of judgment. 

“He’s not dead,” I said, collapsing into the chair opposite him. My strength was gone and I was vibrating like someone being electrocuted. “But he’s coming. They’re all coming. Isabella, Vittorio, Dante. They’re going to tear this city apart to find me.”

“And you came to the lion’s den for help?” Silas asked, tilting his head. “Why?”

“Because you’re the only person who hates them as much as I do,” I said. “And because you want the baby.” He looked unfazed. “Fine. You want to study the Moretti bloodline? Help me disappear. Help me become someone they can never find.”

He remained silent.

“I’m tired, Silas,” I whispered. “I can't survive as Elara Vance anymore.”

“What are you asking for, Elara?” Silas stood up and walked toward me. 

“I need a new face. New name, new everything. Just enough that even if Dante looks me dead in the eyes he won’t know it’s me.”

Silas studied me for a long time. 

“Okay.” He finally spoke.“But know this, nothing this clean comes without a price.”

“I understand.” I replied.

“It will be painful,” he said. “And the recovery while pregnant will be… complicated.”

“I’ve lived through a Moretti marriage,” I said, a small laugh escaping my lips. “Pain is nothing to me.”

“Very well,” Silas said. “I’ll handle the arrangements. We’ll move you to a private facility tonight. By the time the sun comes up, Elara Vance will no longer exist.”

“Promise me one thing,” I said, grabbing his wrist.

“What?”

“When I wake up,” I said, my voice cold and clear. “Don’t call me Elara. That woman died in the foyer tonight.”

“Then who will you be?” Silas asked.

I looked at the window, at the rain washing away the city. “Ciara Wilson.”

I felt Silas’s hand on my shoulder, heard the distant calling of a nurse, and for the first time in ten years, I felt like I was finally in control of my own ending. Or maybe, I was just starting the real war.

The last thing I heard before the anesthesia hit was Silas’s voice, a soft, chilling whisper in my ear.

“Rest now, you’ll need it.”

I drifted off into a dreamless sleep, the sound of the heart monitor the last tether to a life I was more than happy to burn.

Seventy-two hours later.

My face was a sore. Every time I breathed, the skin pulled.

I opened my eyes. 

“Are you awake?” a voice asked. It wasn't Silas. It was a woman’s voice. Sloane.

“Sloane?” I tried to speak, but my jaw was stiff.

“Don’t talk,” she said, appearing at my bedside. “The swelling is still bad. You had a lot of work done. Cheekbones, jawline, nose. Even the eyes.”

“The money?” I rasped.

“It’s safe. Washed through six different countries. You’re a ghost, babe. Dante is losing his mind. He’s scorched half the city looking for you. He thinks you’re dead. He found a body in the river wearing your jewelry. Silas is good at his job.”

I felt a surge of cold triumph. “Isabella?”

“Cheerful. She thinks she won and she’s already moving into the estate.”

I tried to sit up, the pain flaring in my chest. “Perfect.” I paused. “What now?”

“I prepared a new passport, ID and a visa.” She said pulling out the documents from her bag

“Where to?”

“Singapore”

Perfect. Bye bye Elara, Hello Ciara.