Chapter 5: Chapter 5

The Morettis don't just run the city. In some parts of this country, they are the law. So if I ever wanted a real shot at freedom, I had to disappear somewhere they'd never think to look.

I packed a couple bags and headed for the old valley near where my parents used to live; God rest their souls.

That place was so remote it didn't even show up right on GPS.

And I knew, deep down, none of the Morettis would even think to look there.

Why would they? They never once cared about where I came from.

The drive took almost six hours.

The farther I got from the city, the more the roads narrowed and the more the signal on my phone disappeared.

For the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe.

When I finally reached the old house, I almost cried.

It was small, dusty, and surrounded by wild grass, but it was mine.

My parents had left it to me before they died. I had never bothered coming back because Luca always said the place was too isolated and unsafe.

Now, standing there alone, I realized how ridiculous that sounded.

Unsafe?

No.

It was the safest I'd felt in years.

I carried my bags inside and spent the rest of the evening cleaning.

There was no fancy furniture, no security team, no expensive decorations.

Just old wooden floors, faded family photographs, and the scent of lavender from my mother's garden.

I found an old picture of myself at eight years old, sitting between my parents with a missing front tooth and a ridiculous smile.

I stared at it for a long time.

"You'd be proud of me, Mom," I whispered.

For once, I had chosen myself.

I turned off my phone and slept better than I had in months.

The next morning, I went into town and bought groceries.

The locals barely looked at me twice.

Nobody knew my name. Nobody cared who my husband was.

It was wonderful.

For the first time, I wasn't Mrs. Moretti.

I was just Catrina.

I rented a small storefront beside the village bakery and decided to turn it into a little flower shop.

My mother had always loved flowers, and I remembered how she used to tell me that if life ever became too heavy, I should grow something beautiful anyway.

So I did.

Days turned into weeks.

I stopped checking Instagram.

I stopped waiting for Luca's calls.

I stopped wondering whether Dora missed me.

Or at least, I tried to.

Then one afternoon, a little girl walked into my shop holding her father's hand.

She looked about Dora's age.

She pointed at a basket of pink roses and asked, "How much are those?"

I smiled. "For you? One smile."

She grinned.

And something inside me cracked.

Because Dora used to smile like that.

I turned away quickly, pretending to organize the flowers.

That night, I finally allowed myself to cry.

I cried for the daughter who no longer called me Mom.

I cried for the husband who had once promised me forever.

And I cried for the woman I'd been before the Morettis slowly erased her.

The next morning, I made a decision.

I wasn't going back.

Not for Luca.

Not for Fiona.

Not even for Dora.

If Dora ever wanted me again, she would have to find me herself.

I had spent years chasing people who never turned around to see me.

I was done chasing.

But I didn't know that, thousands of miles away, Luca was standing in my empty bedroom, holding the last photograph of us together.

He had finally discovered the house was empty.

My clothes were gone.

My jewelry was gone.

The documents from our safe were gone.

And so was I.

His face had gone completely pale.

"Find her," he ordered.

One of his men hesitated. "Boss, we've checked every property, every bank account, every hotel we know about. There's no trace."

Luca's fingers tightened around the photograph.

"Then check again."

"We've already—"

"I said find my wife!"

His voice thundered through the room.

Everyone went silent.

Then Dora appeared in the doorway, clutching a stuffed rabbit.

"Daddy?"

Luca immediately turned around.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

She looked up at him with worried eyes.

"Is Mommy really gone?"

For the first time, Luca didn't know what to say.

Dora's lower lip trembled.

"She left because she doesn't love me anymore, right?"

Luca froze.

Those words hit him harder than any bullet ever could.

Because suddenly, he remembered every time Dora had pushed me away.

Every time I had looked at him for help.

Every time he had told me to wait.

And every time he'd chosen silence.

His gaze fell to the photograph in his hand.

In it, I was smiling up at him, completely unaware that one day I'd have to run from the life we'd built together.

"No," Luca whispered.

"Your mother didn't leave because she stopped loving you."

Dora looked confused.

"Then why did she leave?"

Luca didn't answer.

Because the truth was beginning to scare him.

Maybe I'd left because he had given me no reason to stay.

And for the first time in seven years, Luca Moretti realized something terrifying.

He might actually have lost me.

Meanwhile, in my little flower shop, I was arranging a bouquet when a black envelope slipped through the gap beneath the front door.

There was no name on it.

Only three words written across the front.

"You can't hide."

My hands went cold.

I opened it slowly.

Inside was a photograph.

Not of Luca.

Not of Maria.

It was Dora.

My daughter was standing outside the Moretti estate, holding her stuffed rabbit and looking directly into the camera.

On the back of the photograph was another message.

"If you want your daughter back, come home."

I stared at those words until my vision blurred.

I knew then that running away wasn't going to be enough.

Someone had found me.

And whoever it was knew exactly which weakness would bring me back.