Chapter 2: Olivia Carter

The next morning, the smell of pancakes fills the apartment. His favorite. Buttermilk with chocolate chips. I place the plate in front of him, my smile as fake as his amnesia. It feels brittle, like a piece of glass about to shatter.

'I thought maybe this would remind you of something,' I say, my voice a sugary poison.

He just grunts, his eyes on his phone as he shovels the food into his mouth. The pain in my chest is a dull, constant ache, a fist squeezing my heart. I push it down, burying it under layers of ice.

As soon as the door closes behind him, the smile drops from my face. I'm on the phone with Maya.

'You were right,' I say. No preamble. The words are flat, dead.

There's a pause, then a string of Spanish curses from her end that I know are reserved for only the most heinous of betrayals.

'What are you going to do?'

'I'm leaving,' I say, the words feeling solid and real for the first time. 'But I need to do it right. I need to disappear. He's the Don-in-waiting, Maya. If he thinks I've just run, he'll hunt me down. A Vendetta for embarrassing him. It has to look like I just vanished.'

Vendetta. Revenge. It wasn't just a word to us; it was a sacred, blood-soaked promise. An eye for an eye, a life for a life, honor restored through violence. A Don who has been publicly shamed has no choice but to declare one. I had no intention of being on the receiving end of it.

'Identity bleaching,' Maya says, her voice all business now. 'It's complicated but not impossible. He has eyes everywhere. We need a new name. A new life.'

I look out the penthouse window at the sprawling city below. A concrete cage.

'Olivia. Olivia Carter.'

That afternoon, I open a new bank account under my own name, transferring the small amount of personal savings I have. I start taking on freelance graphic design work for cash, small jobs paid anonymously through online platforms. Each dollar that trickles in feels like a brick in the foundation of my escape.

Portland, Oregon. The name came to me in a dream. A city known for rain and roses, three thousand miles from the reach of the Reed family's network. A neutral territory. My anonymous destination.

That evening, I pack up every trace of our seven years together. Photos, letters, the stuffed bear he won for me at a carnival. I seal the boxes and shove them into the back of my closet. It feels like burying a body. My body.

A week later, I'm waiting for Maya at our usual coffee shop when the bell above the door chimes.

My head snaps up.

Ethan walks in.

My breath catches.

He's not alone. Chloe Vance is clinging to his arm, laughing up at him. They are a spectacle. A public insult to our engagement and to his family's honor.

Ethan's eyes find mine across the room. For a split second, I see a flicker of something—guilt, maybe annoyance—before his face settles back into a mask of polite confusion.

He gives me a small, awkward wave, as if I'm a distant acquaintance.

Chloe, however, is not so subtle.

Her eyes gleam with triumph as she detaches herself from Ethan and walks toward my table, her hips swaying.

'Ava, right?' she says, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. 'Ethan's told me so much about how difficult this must be for you. I just wanted to say, if there's anything I can do to help support him through this, you just let me know.'

The provocation is so blatant it's almost pathetic. She wants a reaction. She wants tears. A scene. She wants proof that she's won.

I look up at her, my face a perfect blank.

'That won't be necessary,' I say, my voice flat and cold as a morgue slab.

She blinks, clearly thrown off by my lack of emotion.

She was expecting a broken fiancée.

Instead, she found someone already walking away.

I watch them leave, Ethan's arm wrapped possessively around her waist.

The sight no longer causes me pain.

It's fuel.

My resolve hardens into steel.

I'm not Ava Miller anymore, the Don's dutiful fiancée.

I am Olivia Carter.

And my only goal is escape.