Left To Die, Finally Free Chapter 05

Left To Die, Finally Free Chapter 05

The room fell dead silent.

Rosa’s tears spilled over right on cue, her lower lip trembling.

“I… I never, Viola. How can you smear me like this?”

Marco pulled her into his chest in an instant, his voice soft as silk.

“Easy. We all know exactly who you are. None of this is your fault.”

Vincent and Draven crowded in right behind him, falling over themselves to coo reassurance at her.

By the time they were done, Rosa was smiling again, bright and sweet, and when her gaze slid over to me, there was unmasked triumph in her eyes.

Thuffed out a bitter, breathless laugh, the movement sending a stab of pain through my ribs.

e that? A thousand words from me don’t mean shit next to our leading lady’s crocodile tears. What’s the nt in talking? None of you ever believed me anyway.”

en Luca spoke, his voice low, but steady enough to cut through the hush.

believe you, Viola. Come with me. Back to Chicago. No one’s ever gonna hurt you again.”

he whole room froze.

I just stared at him, asked one question.

“Come with you? You gonna marry me?”

Luca went rigid.

His eyes darted to Rosa, and he was already rushing to explain himself to her.

“I told you a long time ago, I’m never marrying again. You can’t be my wife.”

His voice hardened.

“You’ll have a roof over your head, you’ll be safe. As long as you leave Rosa alone.”

I stared at him, and my stomach turned.

Even this, this half–assed, last–minute rescue, was just another way to protect Rosa.

Then, Marco spoke up, cold and final.

“No.”

Rosa’s smile faltered, just for a split second.

Marco continued.

“Viola’s tried to kill herself twice tonight. She stays here, in the compound.”

His tone was flat, dismissive.

“She goes into the west lockdown wing, my button men on her 24/7. Rosa’s got a good heart, she won’t mind.”

Rosa forced a bright smile onto her face.

Vincent hesitated.

“What if she comes back to the Rossi family brownstone? I can watch her.”

Marco shook his head immediately.

“You can’t control her. She’s made it clear she wants nothing to do with you, or with Luca. She behaved herself in the warehouse scullery. Let her loose, and who knows what she’ll do next? Draven keeps an eye on her here. It’s what’s best for Rosa.”

Once the words “best for Rosa” left his mouth, there was no more arguing.

The tension drained out of the room, Rosa’s shoulders relaxed, and every man in there looked relieved.

They’d made up their minds.

They’d seen through my “little stunt“, they’d protected their precious princess.

And me? I wasn’t even worth a seat at the table they were all heading back to.

They swept Rosa out of the room, back to the grand ballroom, to eat the new cake she’d had the kitchen whip up, laughing and drinking like I hadn’t just bled out on their floor.

Draven walked me to the west lockdown wing.

His whole demeanor was softer now, the sharp consigliere edge gone.

“Stop trying to kill yourself to get a rise out of them,” he muttered, helping me sit on the bed. “Even if Marco’s done with you, you’re safe here. As long as you leave Rosa be… I’ll look out for you.”

I stared at him, and whispered,

“I want to go home.”

His voice softened even more.

“Back to the Rossi brownstone? I can talk to Marco, make it happen.”

I grabbed the cuff of his tailored suit, my voice small, desperate, like I was begging for my life.

“I want to go home with you. Back to the Valentino compound. Go talk to them, now. I’ll wait here for you.”

He’d told me then, his home was my home, that I was the only family he had left.

He hesitated, then nodded.

“Alright. I’ll be right back.”

I watched his back disappear down the hallway, and a faint smile tugged at my lips.

I sent the guards on a fool’s errand, hot–wired a staff car out of the back garage, and tore through the

compound gates.

The button man at the gate knew who I was, knew better than to put a bullet in a Rossi’s tires. All he could do was radio Marco, screaming that I’d broken out.

I pulled up to the edge of the Hudson, the river black and cold below me.

Even the landscape’s reflection in the water was perfect.

The only broken thing in this world was me.

“I’m going home,”

“To the people who’ll wait for me, no matter what.”

I heard car tires screeching behind me, familiar voices yelling my name.

I didn’t hesitate.

I slammed the gas pedal to the floor, crashed through the guardrail, and plunged into the icy Hudson River.

“VIOLA!”

The last thing I heard was that familiar, ragged scream, before the water closed over my head.