Racing Away From Forever

Everyone knew Elio Carbone, Don of the Carbone family, was a cold-hearted womanizer. He had one rule: never sleep with the same woman twice.

But for me, he broke it.

The first day after our breakup, he stood outside the old Bianchi estate for a day and a night, his entire security detail in tow, just to win me back.

The second day, he flew to Sicily and bought the deed to my family's ancestral estate at auction for triple its value, and had it delivered to me.

The third day, he tattooed my favorite flower, the lily, over his heart. The tattoo artist said he refused any anesthetic and didn't make a sound.

Later, at a banquet for the Five Families, in front of all the other Dons, he sliced his palm and made a blood oath. He swore loyalty only to Eleonora Bianchi for the rest of his life; if he broke his vow, he would pay with his life.

After a year of his relentless pursuit, his devotion finally wore me down, and I agreed to take him back.

I truly believed him then. That Elio truly loved me.

Until one night. He took me to an underground racetrack to broker a deal with an ally. But in the roaring crowd, I saw a girl, trembling and crying, her clothes in tatters.

Ava was shoved to the starting line. She was the wager for the death race.

One look was all it took for Elio's face to darken.

The next second, he dropped his hand from my waist and, without a word, walked toward the track entrance.

I stood frozen, watching his back as he disappeared into the driver's seat of a modified sports car.

I used to wake up crying, terrified he would lose his life in one of these reckless races.

He had smashed his trophies, burned his marker for the illegal track, and sworn to God he would never again enter such a life-or-death gamble.

My hand drifted to my stomach, covering the secret I hadn't yet had the chance to share.

His blood oath was broken. And so was I.

Bang! The starting gun fired.

Elio's modified Maserati shot off the line like an uncaged black beast. He barely slowed for the corners, its tires screaming against the pavement in a shrill cry that pierced the entire tunnel.

His driving was just as I remembered from when he'd pursued me: wild and commanding, every overtake a gamble with death itself.

On the final lap, the car nearly went airborne as it tore across the finish line in first place.

The underground racetrack erupted in a deafening roar of shouts and whistles.

Before the dust settled, Elio threw open the car door and strode toward the girl tied up at the finish line.

Watched by hundreds of mobsters, he stripped off his expensive, custom-tailored suit jacket. His silk shirt clung to his chest, outlining the lily tattoo meant for me. He then wrapped the jacket, still warm from his body, tightly around Ava's shivering frame.

"You're safe now," he soothed, his voice softer than I'd ever heard it before.

Then, he drew the Browning from his waistband. He pressed the muzzle to the temple of the boss who had used Ava as a bargaining chip, then lowered the gun and, without hesitation, pulled the trigger, shattering the man's kneecap.

Amid the screams, he holstered his weapon and finally looked up, his gaze finding me on the high platform through the swirling smoke.

"Eleonora." He tilted his head back, his voice cutting through the now silent crowd. "Be good. Don't look at me like that."

He paused. "Her father took a bullet for the Carbone family. We owe her a life debt. She's been through hell."

I was thrown back to a night one year ago, when I found out he had stayed by her side all night instead of coming home.

He had looked at me the same way then, saying, "Eleonora, let me explain. She was unstable, threatening suicide. I was just making sure she didn't hurt herself."

That time, I had smashed our engagement ring and fled the manor in the middle of the night.

But now, I stood in the night wind, my nails digging into my palms so hard they nearly drew blood, yet my expression was as still as a frozen lake.

"We?" I spoke softly, my voice low, but in the silent racetrack, it was impossibly clear. "Elio, be clear. What, exactly, do we owe her?"

He froze, clearly not expecting me to question him on the spot.

"A year ago, you abandoned me to take care of her, saying she was fragile and couldn't be left alone." My voice began to tremble. "Now you break your blood oath for her, gambling with your own life and drawing your weapon, all because you claim she ended up this way because of us."

I stared into his eyes.

"Elio Carbone, how many more excuses are you going to make?"

His expression hardened, his brow knitting into a severe line.

"Eleonora, don't embarrass me in public."

"Embarrass you?"

I laughed. "So, asking you to keep your promise is an embarrassment."

Tears streamed down my face, beyond my control. "I thought I was done crying over you."

Behind him, Ava gently tugged on his sleeve. Her voice was soft and timid, catching in a sob. "Elio, please don't fight with the Donna because of me... It's all my fault..."

Elio didn't look back at her, but he reached behind him to pat her hand reassuringly.

His gaze remained locked on me, his tone leaving no room for debate. "We'll talk about this at home."

Seeing his tall frame shielding another woman from the wind, a chill pierced my heart. "So this is what a Don's promise is worth. Nothing."

His jaw tightened, and he looked ready to explode, but before he could speak, I had already turned away.

"Eleonora!" he called after me.

I didn't look back. Step by step, I walked out of that underground racetrack, away from the stench of gasoline and blood.

The next morning, I returned from chapel with my best friend and pushed open the ornate double doors to the master bedroom.

Ava stood barefoot on the thick Persian rug, wearing one of my silk nightgowns, the fabric slipping off one shoulder. The red marks blooming across her neck stung my eyes.

Elio was sitting on the velvet sofa, smoking a cigar. The moment he saw me, he shot to his feet.

"Eleonora, let me explain." His voice held a rare note of panic. "She tricked the soldato at the door, said she was here to thank me in person for yesterday. Nothing happened between us."

I stared at the curves of Ava's body, barely concealed by the nightgown, and my stomach churned, bile rising in my throat.

"Elio." I clenched the fabric of my dress, my voice dangerously calm. "Send her away."

"Send her to Chicago, Miami, or Europe. Anywhere outside the family's reach. I don't want to see her again."

He didn't answer immediately.

After a long silence, he finally spoke. "Her father died for the family."

"She's an orphan. Without our protection, she wouldn't survive three days."

"If you can't bear to send her away, then I'll go." I looked at him, my face pale. "Either she leaves, or we get a divorce."

The warmth in Elio's eyes vanished, replaced by ice. He took a step forward.

His shadow fell over me. He towered over me, his gaze scrutinizing. "Eleonora, the same trick won't work twice."

"Last time, I was willing to indulge you, to let you throw your fit, to stand outside your family's crumbling estate for a day and a night."

He reached out, as if to touch my face. I flinched away, avoiding his hand.

His hand froze in midair, then slowly retracted. A cold smirk touched his lips.

"You think you can just leave?" he laughed softly. "Eleonora, what do you take me for?"

"Besides," he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear, "without my protection, you're just the fallen princess of the disgraced Bianchi family. The moment you walk out that door, the vultures will tear you apart."

That cruel truth was sharper than a bullet, piercing the last of my hope.

He knew exactly how to break my pride.

"Ava will be my personal assistant from now on. She'll stay at the manor," he announced, straightening, his tone an unchallengeable command.

"I'll be responsible for her safety."

"This is not a discussion."

Silence stretched between us for three heartbeats.

Then I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face.

"Elio, you disgust me."

He turned his head from the force of the blow, ran his tongue over his split lip, then slowly turned back, his gaze like ice.

"You need to cool down." He buttoned his suit jacket. "I won't be back at the manor for a few days. Think about what you've done."

His taillights disappeared beyond the iron gates at the end of the driveway. I stood there, staring at the empty drive, and closed my eyes in despair.

My phone lit up. I glanced down at the message I had been waiting for.

[Donna, as per your request, the private dive team and deep-sea submersible have been arranged. Ready to depart for the Mariana Trench on your command.]

It was the anniversary surprise I had prepared for Elio. I was going to take him to the deepest place on earth, and in the silence of the abyss, tell him we were having an heir.

Now, it was all meaningless.

I typed a simple reply: Change the plan. We leave through the underwater tunnel.

Then I deleted the message and dialed another number. "Prepare the divorce papers."

After hanging up, I clutched the phone, my other hand resting gently on my stomach.

A small life was growing there.

An heir to his bloodline that Elio Carbone knew nothing about.

"Baby," I whispered, lowering my head. "Mama's going to take you to see an ocean without the smoke of gunpowder."