Chapter 4

Two days later, I stood at the edge of a barren stretch of land, wind carrying grit against my face. In the distance, the mountainside looked like it had been sliced open with a knife, rock layers exposed one after another. The ground was nothing but gravel; every step made my feet ache.

This was Professor Graham's geological survey site.

Here, there was only dust, noise, the clang of metal tools, and the reality that you had to stand on your own two feet.

I carried my equipment pack and wore a hard hat. When I rolled up my sleeves, I could feel the savage scar beneath my skin pulling tight.

Tess slapped a stack of record sheets into my hands. "Elara, right? Today you shadow me. Learn how to keep your footing on the slopes. Don't try to be a hero—fall down there and no one's collecting your body."

I nodded.

People here spoke bluntly, even harshly. But strangely, I didn't feel offended. If anything, I felt lighter.

We walked along the survey line, gravel crunching under our boots. Evan carried the instruments, muttering data readings as we went. Tess glanced back at me now and then, as if making sure I wasn't here just for show.

Of course I wasn't.

I just wanted to survive.

In a way that didn't require begging anyone.

Just as I bent down to mark a point, a scent far too familiar cut through the dust and motor oil.

I froze.

The moment I looked up, I saw Celine standing by an SUV.

She wore an impeccably tailored suit, her makeup flawless. Standing there, she looked completely out of place.

"Elara." She called my name. "What are you doing here?"

I didn't answer.

Her gaze swept from my hard hat to my dust-covered gloves, then to the tool bag at my feet, before finally settling on my face. Her eyes held the look of someone savoring a pathetic joke.

"This is what you amount to after leaving the Godfather?" She sighed softly, feigning pity. "I really didn't expect you to let yourself fall this low."

Tess stood beside me, clearly picking up on the hostility. She frowned and asked me, "You know this one? Rude as hell."

Celine's expression stiffened. She hadn't expected anyone to insult her to her face. "If the Godfather knew you were spending time with people like this, he'd be very disappointed in you."

Oh, so what.

She walked two steps closer to me. "See? Without the Godfather, you really are nothing."

"Elara, stop being stubborn. The Godfather has been very busy these past two days, but he isn't really angry with you. Just come back. The way you look now... it's heartbreaking." She switched back to her gentle tone.

I really didn't want to keep playing along with her performance.

"Celine." I spoke. "What are you doing here?"

She blinked. "I'm here to bring you back."

"I'm not going back with you. I've already left the Moretti estate. For good," I said.

"Elara, don't blow this out of proportion."

I was about to say more when a car door slammed shut behind me.

I turned around.

Dante stood not far away. His face looked even colder in the sunlight, his gaze deep and dark.

The first thing he saw was the savage scar on my arm.

The mark of expulsion.

His pupils contracted for just an instant.

"Elara." He called my name, his voice low. "What have you done?"

I didn't answer.

He stepped closer and grabbed my arm, staring at the brand.

"Why didn't you talk to me first?" he demanded, his tone barely containing his anger. "Did you think leaving the family was a game?"

I remained silent.

His voice turned colder: "Stop this."

Stop this.

Again with "stop this."

Celine immediately jumped in. "Godfather, she's just too emotional... don't blame her. I'll talk some sense into her—"

"Shut up." Dante didn't even look at her. "This is none of your business right now."

Celine's face went white. She stepped back.

Dante's gaze returned to me. "I personally approved Nico's medical funding," he said.

He played what he thought was his trump card. "The money has been released. Treatment can continue. Are you sure you still want to throw this tantrum?"

"I'm busy, Elara. Try to understand."

Approved.

An approval that came five days too late.

I looked at him, my chest aching with the absurdity of it all.

I pulled out my phone, unlocked it, and dialed a number.

The hospital.

"This is St. Mary's Hospital, how may I—"

"I need the ICU duty office," I said, my voice steady—so steady it sounded foreign even to me. "Please pull up the records for Nico Vail. Now."

The person on the other end hesitated: "May I ask who—"

"Elara Vail," I said. "Next of kin."

After a brief sound of typing, the voice became more cautious: "Miss Vail, please hold."

I put the phone on speaker.

"Miss Vail, this is Dr. Reid." The voice was professional but heavy. "Nico Vail passed away five days ago at 11:17 PM."

Dr. Reid's voice dropped lower. "With funding and authorization continually delayed, we were unable to maintain certain critical treatments... subsequent resuscitation efforts failed. We attempted to reach the registered contact per protocol, but were never able to confirm receipt."

I thanked him for his cooperation. Before he could offer any words of comfort, I hung up.

The moment Dante heard the news of Nico's death, he froze completely.

"That's impossible..."