Thirty days. The countdown to freedom had begun.
A week passed before his next message arrived.
Property transfer center. 3 PM. Finalizing the deed.
Seven days of silence. No texts. No calls. No visits to the Family's private clinic where I lay recovering from what his neglect had cost me.
I was learning to exist in the emptiness he had always offered.
That afternoon, I arrived at three-thirty.
He was already waiting in the lobby of the transfer office, a legitimate front that the Families used for moving assets between names. The afternoon light caught the sharp angles of his face, illuminating the dark circles beneath his eyes that even his perfect composure couldn't hide.
Nico Volpe despised tardiness. Every soldier in his crew knew it. Every associate who had ever kept him waiting had learned to regret it.
But there wasn't a trace of impatience on his face. Not today.
The moment I appeared, a woman from the VIP counter approached with practiced deference.
"Mrs. Volpe, everything has been prepared."
He'd arranged flowers. A bouquet of white lilies sat on the polished table—elegant, expensive, the kind of gesture that might have meant something once. Beside it rested a small velvet box. Jewelry, no doubt. Another offering laid at the altar of his guilt.
The attendant moved to pull out my chair, but Nico stopped her with a subtle gesture of his hand. He would do it himself.
I blinked, caught off guard by this unexpected courtesy.
"You really don't have to do all this."
A faint smile touched his lips—so rare, so carefully rationed. He shook his head slowly.
It seemed to take tremendous effort, but he managed two words.
"It's fine."
Such unusual gentleness. Such unprecedented communication.
The paperwork was completed with efficient precision. Signatures exchanged. Seals pressed. The safe house was now mine alone—a parting gift from the heir apparent of the Volpe Syndicate.
His final message appeared on my screen as the attendant gathered the documents.
Head back to the compound first. I have business that will run late.
A strange feeling stirred in my chest, building and building until it pressed against my ribs. Hope, perhaps. Or its ghost.
I walked out the glass doors and hailed a car from the Family's fleet. Only when I reached for my wallet did I realize I'd left my handbag inside.
I turned back.
Through the lobby windows, I could see him still standing there.