The door to the secured hospital room burst open with a harsh, echoing crack.
Luca stepped inside. His expression was dark, irritation tightening his jaw. On the floor, the remnants of the shattered metal tray and broken glass still glittered under the fluorescent lights.
Two nurses hovered near the bedside, their faces flushed with panic.
"What is happening here?" Luca demanded, his voice a low growl.
One of the nurses straightened, rigid with fear. "Sir, she woke up and became agitated again. We had to restrain her, for her safety and ours."
Luca's gaze shifted to the bed. The moment his eyes locked onto the figure trembling against the mattress, his jaw tightened.
Her wrists were pinned down by heavy leather restraints. Her breathing was frantic, shallow. Strands of sweat-dampened hair fell across her pale face.
"Sarah," Luca said coldly.
He had come down this corridor to reprimand her. She had run from their wedding. She had caused a scene at the villa. Now she was destroying hospital property and making a mockery of his security.
But as he stepped closer to the bed, something invisible stopped him.
The woman slowly lifted her head.
Tears streamed silently down her cheeks. She wasn't fighting anymore. She wasn't thrashing against the straps or spitting the insults she usually did. She was only crying, quietly, helplessly, like someone who had finally reached the end of her strength.
A small, choked sound escaped her throat. Not a word. A raw, mute expression of pure agony.
Luca froze.
He had never seen Sarah look like this. In his mind, Sarah was defined by her armor — stubborn, fierce, manipulative, someone who could argue her way out of anything and refuse to back down.
But the creature shivering in front of him now looked entirely fragile.
For a rare moment in his life, Luca didn't know how to react.
Elena's shoulders trembled as another silent tear slid down her bruised skin. She looked up at him, wide-eyed, silently begging for a mercy she didn't think he possessed.
Luca reached for her wrist to check the restraint. Her whole body flinched at his touch.
He froze.
Something in that flinch didn't belong to Sarah either.
Slowly, he unlocked his rigid posture and pulled her upper body into his arms.
"Sarah..."
His voice softened, dropping into a low, uncharacteristic register. "It's alright. Stop crying."
The two nurses exchanged bewildered glances. In all their time serving the Venzagrase household, they had never seen the CEO show a shred of gentleness.
He held her carefully, one hand resting against the back of her head. "It's fine," he murmured. "You're safe."
Then his gaze dropped to the leather straps still binding her skin. His eyes hardened.
"Who tied her like this?"
The primary nurse backed away a step. "Sir, she was becoming violent, throwing medical trays—"
"Remove them."
The nurses rushed forward, fingers scrambling over the buckles. Within seconds, the restraints were unlocked, freeing Elena's raw wrists.
Elena stared down at her hands in shock, fingers curling and uncurling in the open air. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to Luca. Confusion filled her.
None of this made sense. This was the same man who had threatened her family, the same man whose name was whispered in fear, the same man who had made it clear that disobedience meant ruin. Yet now his hold was gentle. He was protecting her.
Elena didn't understand the rules of the game she'd been thrown into. What she couldn't know was that Luca was looking at her and seeing a mirage.
In his mind, the woman shaking in his arms was Sarah — his defiant, runaway bride. He had no idea the real Sarah was sitting in a house on Old Willow Street, plotting his downfall.
A few minutes later, Luca stepped out of the room, his movements slow and deliberate.
The door swung shut behind him with a soft click that echoed louder than thunder in his mind. He stood in the hallway for several seconds, his face unreadable.
The image of her face — tearful, fragile, stripped of the arrogance he expected from Sarah — lingered in his thoughts.
Something was wrong.
He had seen Sarah in every state of rage. Defiant. Unshaken, even cornered. But the woman inside that room, drowning in silent tears...
That wasn't the same person.
Luca's jaw tightened. He walked down the corridor, his footsteps slow and controlled against the polished floor.
The guards outside the wing straightened as he approached. "Sir," the lead guard said.
Luca didn't look at him. "Stay here. Make sure she doesn't leave this floor under any circumstance."
"Understood, Mr. Luca."
He paused at the elevator bank. His voice dropped into an icy whisper. "And call the director of intelligence."
The guard hesitated. "Sir? Your personal security team?"
"I want everything about her investigated," Luca said. "Everything from the last forty-eight hours."
"Sir, but she is your wife — she is Sarah Venzagrase—"
Luca stopped walking. The silence that followed carried the weight of a threat. He turned his head slowly.
"I did not ask for your opinion."
The guard lowered his head. "Yes, sir. My apologies."
Luca's expression hardened. "Find out where she has been. Find out every person she has met since she fled the villa. And find out why—" He paused, the image of those quiet tears flashing behind his eyes. "—why she feels like a stranger."
Inside the room, Elena's eyes fluttered open.
Her body felt weighted down. For a long moment she lay still, letting her senses return. Then her eyes opened fully.
Silence.
The room was empty. The staff had cleared out. Luca was gone.
Her breathing turned uneven. Her eyes darted across the sterile space, mapping the layout with the desperation of a trapped animal.
The door. Closed. Locked from the outside.
Her chest tightened, that familiar fear of confinement creeping back in. Then her gaze shifted to the far side of the room.
The window.
The blinds hadn't been fully drawn. There was a gap left for ventilation — just wide enough for a slender frame to fit through. Enough to see the gray afternoon sky.
Enough to escape.
Her heart began to race. Slowly, Elena pushed herself up from the mattress. The moment her bare feet touched the floor, a white-hot jolt of pain shot through the cuts on her legs, and she stumbled against the bedside table.
But she didn't stop.
She dragged herself across the linoleum toward the window, her hands shaking as she reached the cold aluminum frame and pushed it open. Cold, damp air rushed into the room.
For a fraction of a second, she looked down at the muddy courtyard below and hesitated.
Then the memory of Luca's presence replaced the fear with determination. She climbed over the sill.
Her bare feet hit the earth outside with a dull thud. Mud splashed against her skin.
She ran.
Her breathing tore through her lungs as she sprinted toward the perimeter fence. Freedom. She was so close.
"Stop her!"
A voice shouted from the walkway behind her. Elena's stomach dropped, but she pushed forward, faster, through the mud.
"Miss, please stop! You can't be out here!"
Footsteps pounded behind her. A hand clamped around her upper arm and yanked her to a halt.
She struggled, thrashing, shaking her head to break the grip. A raw, broken sound tore from her throat — a mute plea filled with terror.
"Please!" a senior nurse cried, holding onto her shoulder. "You can't leave this facility, Sarah!"
Another orderly's voice dropped into a frantic whisper. "If you cross that gate, if you disappear on our watch, he'll kill us. Luca will destroy everyone who let you walk out."
Elena froze.