Chapter 3
I closed my eyes.
Daniel used to promise he'd protect me, too.
All that protection had amounted to frozen bank accounts, a terrified driver who refused to look me in the eye, and a dying daughter who never received a single reply from her father.
"I have three conditions," I said.
"Go ahead," Leon replied.
"I want complete and exclusive control over all my bank accounts. I want the freedom to walk away whenever I want. And no member of any family is permitted to disturb Sophia's grave."
Leon agreed immediately without any negotiation. "Deal."
We met that afternoon at a neutral hotel with no ties to any mafia faction.
Leon placed a finished marriage contract on the table. The document's first page had no Moretti family crest. It only printed my full legal name—Elena Vitali.
I stared at the words. For the first time, it was mine and mine alone, free of my father and my husband.
Leon handed me the pen, but didn't rush me.
"Your father already called me," he said. "He believes you are too overwhelmed with grief to make sound decisions and that none of your current choices count."
"What else did he say?" I asked.
"He said if I send you back, the Vitali family will back the Moretti family in the next round of business negotiations."
I let out a bitter laugh.
After Sophia died, my father didn't even show up for her funeral, yet he was already treating me like a bargaining chip.
My phone lit up on the table once more.
This time, the message was from Daniel.
His message was simple and straightforward. [Your accounts are unfrozen. Bring Sophia home. Don't push me to finalize divorce proceedings.]
I handed my phone to Leon so he could read it for himself.
"My father said my decision didn't count. Do you agree with him?" I asked.
After reading it, Leon slid the phone back to me. "No one gets to decide that for you except yourself."
I picked up the pen and signed my name at the bottom of the marriage contract.
Then I turned Daniel's succession invitation over and drew a bold circle around the date. "We'll have the wedding on this day," I said.
Leon tucked the contract away. "Okay."
I slipped my wedding ring into an empty envelope and handed it to the hotel front desk, asking them to send it back to the Ross Manor.
There was no explanation inside, no word about Sophia's death.
Daniel had been the one to hang up on our daughter's final plea for help.
He would learn the whole truth when he stood in front of her grave.
*****
After leaving the hotel, I moved into the house by the sea that my mother had left me.
The house had been empty for years. When I pushed the door open, dust coated every piece of furniture.
The old housekeeper wanted to help me tidy up, but I told her to rest and quietly opened Sophia's little suitcase myself.
I'd carried it all the way from the Ross Manor.
Inside were only a few dresses, a sketchbook, and her favorite stuffed white rabbit.
She'd planned to spend a month here. On the first page of her sketchbook, she had drawn a simple picture of our family standing by the ocean.
She drew a tall figure for David, a woman in a red dress for me, and placed herself in the middle holding both of our hands.
I closed the sketchbook without flipping to any more pages.
A divorce agent dropped off the official paperwork in the afternoon. I signed all my required sections and handed the agent the text message where Daniel had threatened to end our marriage.
"He probably won't cooperate," the agent warned. "Westbridge civil law allows single-party divorce filings with a two-week notice period. He can only delay the paperwork delivery, nothing more."
"I don't need his approval for this," I said.
*****
By evening, the wedding ring was sent back to the Ross Manor.
Daniel called less than thirty minutes after the package arrived.
I ignored his first call.
He kept dialing again and again. My phone screen lit up repeatedly in the dim living room with every incoming ring, casting a ghostly glow across the walls.
I finally picked up.
"Where are you?" Daniel demanded.
His tone sounded more urgent than it had three days prior, but he still spoke to me like he was giving out orders.
"I'm at the beach house," I replied.
"Why is Sophia's room empty?"
I could hear drawers being pulled open on the other end.
He was probably standing in our daughter's bedroom, looking at the empty closet, the bare bed with no stuffed rabbit, and the spot on the wall where our family portrait used to hang.
"Didn't you tell me to bring her home?" I asked.
"I meant Ross Manor," he snapped.
"That was never her home."
Daniel took a deep, tense breath. "Elena, don't let this get out of hand. Your accounts are unfrozen, and I haven't called the lawyers for a divorce yet.
"If you bring Sophia back now, I'll let it slide that you left without my permission."
I stared at Sophia's sketchbook on the table.
Even now, he still believed he was giving me a generous compromise.
"The divorce papers will be delivered to you tomorrow," I said.
Daniel went completely silent for a moment before snapping, "What did you say?"
"Isn't this what you wanted? I'm accepting the divorce."
"That was just a warning."
"I heard every word."
I could tell Daniel was pacing across Sophia's room, trying to keep his temper in check.
"Put Sophia on the phone," he demanded.
I held the phone, staying silent.
"Elena, let me talk to her. I haven't heard her voice in three days," he requested.
It took him three full days to notice Sophia was no longer sending him good morning messages or asking when he would come home.
Even then, his first assumption was that I had kept her away from him.
"Go to Easthill Cemetery tomorrow," I said.
"What are you trying to pull now?" Daniel asked sharply.
"Didn't you say you wanted to see Sophia?" I said.
I told him the exact time before ending the call.
Outside, the waves crashed against the rocks again and again.
My phone buzzed with a new message from him. [If you try to threaten me with our daughter's safety, I'll come take her back myself.]
I didn't reply. Instead, I picked up Sophia's red hair tie and slipped it into my coat pocket.
Daniel would have no more room for excuses after seeing Sophia's grave tomorrow.