Runaway Nurse: The Mafia King's Remorse

Elena Rossi POV

I had become invisible again.

I moved through the penthouse like a phantom, spiriting my belongings away into boxes whenever Dante wasn't looking.

He interpreted my silence as sulking. He believed I was finally "learning my place."

I was in the hallway, my hand hovering over the study door, when the sound of his voice stopped me cold.

"She's calming down, Mother," Dante said, his tone dismissive. "Yes, I know about the trip. She thinks it's a vacation."

I froze.

"Isabella," he continued, the name rolling smoothly off his tongue, "Elena agreed to go to the villa in Tuscany for a few weeks. Just until the wedding heat dies down."

He was lying to his mother. Or perhaps, Isabella was lying to him.

"She signed the papers, Dante," Isabella's voice drifted faintly from the speakerphone, tinny but unmistakable. "She knows she's leaving for good."

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

If he knew I had signed the exit deal...

Dante laughed, a dark, rich sound that used to make my knees weak. "She signed the NDA to secure the allowance, Mother. She's not going anywhere. She's obsessed with me. She'd never leave."

He actually believed it.

His arrogance was my shield.

I backed away into the shadows, silent as the grave.

*

That night, he threw a party.

"For you," he said, pressing a velvet box into my hand. Inside lay diamond earrings, cold and heavy. "For your birthday. I know I missed the actual day."

My birthday was last week. The same day he had abandoned me on the side of the road.

The Estate ballroom was suffocating, filled with the same vultures who had watched me bleed at the auction.

They whispered as I walked in, their voices like the rustling of dry leaves.

*The mistress. The kept woman. The charity case.*

Dante kept a possessive hand on my lower back, branding me.

Then, the double doors swung open.

Sofia entered.

The air left my lungs in a rush.

She was wearing a gown of pale blue silk, embroidered with delicate silver vines that shimmered under the chandeliers.

It was a custom design.

I knew this because I had watched Dante sketch it.

Three years ago, when his vision had just begun to return-when he could see nothing but shadows and me-he had drawn it on a cocktail napkin.

*For you,* he had promised, tracing the lines. *When I can see again, I want to see you in this.*

Now, Sofia was wearing it.

She glided across the room, the crowd parting for her like the Red Sea.

She walked straight to us.

"Happy Birthday, Elena," she chirped, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. "Dante told me he designed this dress. It's exquisite, isn't it? A bit tight in the chest, but I made it work."

She smiled, a predator baring its teeth.

Dante shifted uncomfortably. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"I have a gift, too," Sofia announced.

She snapped her manicured fingers.

A servant stepped forward, carrying a wicker basket.

Inside was a puppy. A German Shepherd.

Its ears were perked, its teeth sharp and white.

I took a sharp step back. My breath hitched in my throat.

When I was ten, the head of security's dogs had gotten loose in the servant quarters. One of them had torn my calf open. I still bore the jagged, silvery scars.

Dante knew this.

He *knew*.

"His name is Ari," Sofia said, thrusting the basket toward my chest. "Take him. He's a protector."

The puppy barked, a high-pitched snap.

I flinched violently, knocking into a passing waiter.

"Take it, Elena," Sofia pressed, her eyes gleaming. "Don't be rude."

"I... I can't," I stammered, my palms slick with sweat.

"Dante," Sofia pouted, turning to him. "She's refusing my gift."

Dante looked at the crowd. They were watching. Waiting to see if the mistress would defy the future Donna.

"Elena," Dante said, his voice tight with warning. "Take the dog. It's a gesture of peace."

"Dante, please," I whispered, pleading with him to remember. "You know."

"Just take the damn dog!" he snapped.

I reached out with trembling hands.

The puppy, sensing my terror, lunged.

It didn't bite, but it scrambled frantically out of the basket.

It bolted.

It ran straight into a towering pyramid of champagne glasses.

*Crash.*

The sound was deafening as hundreds of glasses shattered.

Dante moved instantly.

He threw his body over Sofia, shielding her from the falling shards.

Glass rained down like jagged hail.

A large shard sliced across my forearm. Another grazed my cheek.

I stood there, blood welling on my skin, watching him hold her.

He checked her face. Her arms. Her hair.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, his voice frantic.

"I'm scared," she whimpered, burying her face in his chest.

Only then did he look at me.

He saw the blood running down my arm, dripping onto the marble floor.

For a second, regret flashed in his eyes.

But then the crowd murmured.

"Get her to the ER," Dante barked at a nearby soldier, his mask slamming back into place. "Clean this mess up."

He turned back to Sofia.

"Come on," he said softly to her. "Let's get you out of here."

He walked her out.

Again.

I stood in the ruins of the party, bleeding, while the guests laughed behind their hands.

The soldier grabbed my uninjured arm roughly. "Let's go, Miss Rossi."

I looked at the shattered glass glittering on the floor.

It looked exactly like my life.

"No," I said, yanking my arm free.

"I'll take myself."

I walked out into the night alone.

Seven days left.

And I was going to make every single one of them count toward his destruction.