ELENA

I should have known something was wrong when he asked everyone to leave the penthouse.

Not barked. Not ordered.

Asked.

Luca Volkov only speaks softly when something catastrophic is about to happen.

The room is dim — only city lights spilling through floor-to-ceiling windows. The skyline glitters. Beautiful. Indifferent.

He stands in front of me with his hands in his pockets, shoulders tense like a man preparing for a confession he already regrets.

“You’re not safe here anymore,” he says.

It’s not a threat. It’s a funeral.

I fold my arms. “From what? Work stress? A legal case? Me being near you?”

His jaw tightens — betrayal in his eyes, just not the kind I expected.

“Elena, someone is targeting the Moretti family. They aren’t after your father. They aren’t after Matteo.”

He pauses.

“They’re after you.”

My heart stops mid-beat.

He continues, voice controlled to the point of shaking.

“And they’re using me to get to you. They know exactly what you are to me.”

I almost laugh, bitter. “What am I to you, Luca? A ghost? A mistake? Something you had and threw away?”

He doesn’t blink. “You were the one good thing I ever had.”

I hate that the truth in his voice hurts more than lies ever could.

Before I can respond, he slides a folder across the table. Photographs. Surveillance shots. Me at work. Me getting coffee. Me laughing with Alina.

Red circles drawn around my head.

My throat burns. “You should have told me—”

“I’m telling you now.”

I shove the photographs away. “We can handle this together—”

“No.” His voice goes ice-cold. “That’s the one thing we will never do.”

It’s not indifference. It’s panic in disguise.

He steps closer, but not close enough to touch. Not close enough to be touched.

“Elena, I need you to walk away from me. Publicly. Brutally. Without looking back.”

My nails dig into my palms. “You want me to pretend to hate you?”

He shakes his head.

“No, You’re going to hate me for real. And I’ll make sure you do.”

Pain detonates behind my ribs.

“You’d rather break me than let me choose you?”

His voice is barely audible.

“I’d rather hurt you myself than watch the world do it.”

And that is when I stop breathing.

Because that is not love the way normal people define it.

But it is love the way Luca Volkov has always known it.

Still, pain demands honesty.

“I trusted you once,” I whisper. “I lost everything.”

His eyes close. One second. Two.

“You lost me too.”

Something cracks inside me. Loud. Final.

“So that’s it?” My voice trembles. “You’ll destroy us for my safety? Again?”

He doesn’t defend himself.

He just nods — like a man volunteering for execution.

LUCA

I can taste her heartbreak in the room like smoke.

I want to drop to my knees. Beg. Give her every truth. Every scar. Every memory.

But she’d die if I did.

Literally.

And loving her is not worth her coffin.

So I do the one thing I swore I’d never do again.

I reach for the dagger I know will cut the deepest.

“Here’s the truth,” I say, voice flat. “I get bored. I got bored of us. That’s why I left.”

Her face collapses. Her soul collapses. Something sacred between us collapses.

Good.

Let her hate me.

Hate is safer than love.

She laughs — a sound that could make angels turn away.

“Congratulations, Luca. You’ve finally succeeded.”

She walks past me. Doesn’t look back.

When the elevator doors close, I feel the exact moment her heart stops belonging to me.

I grip the back of a chair until the wood cracks.

“I’m right here,” I breathe into the empty room. “I never stopped being right here.”

But she can’t hear. She was never supposed to.

Because the only way Elena Moretti survives this world… is without Luca Volkov.

Elena leaves the penthouse.

Her phone buzzes.

Unknown number:

“He finally pushed you away. Just like we predicted. Step two begins tonight.”

She freezes.

Someone else always wanted this breakup.

And they got it.