Back at the compound, I pulled out my suitcase. My hands shook as I unzipped it, but my heart was steady. My thumb traced the scar on the inside of my left wrist, slow, deliberate. Remembering who I had been. Then I stopped, and I packed.
This time, I wasn't just thinking about leaving. This time, I really was.
I sat in the airport lounge, my passport and boarding pass tight in my hand, suitcase by my side. The terminal hummed with the anonymous noise of strangers who had no idea that the Don of the Castellano Family's wife was about to vanish. My phone buzzed. Of course, it was him. I took a breath and answered.
"Where are you, baby? Mateo said you weren't—"
"I wasn't feeling well," I said softly. "Bad headache. I went home to rest."
"I'll send Mateo over with some medicine."
"No need," I cut in, keeping my voice steady. "I'm done taking those. I just want to sleep." I let a small pause hang before adding, "But before you get home, there's a little present waiting for you in our room. Please open it."
I could picture it in my head. On the bedside table: the divorce papers, our wedding rings, and the USB with him and Serafina.