The Trophy Wife

TWENTY ONE: Escape

I cut this chapter in half because it was nearing fifteen pages and I'm still not done. And again, SORRY for taking forever. I don't have any real excuses other than the fact that I'm just over here trying to survive. I'm almost done with the next one though and after that I plan on writing one more :)

And then I ran.

I didn't wait for the police to show up.

I didn't try to save Matteo.

I couldn't look at Enzo.

So I ran. I ran out of the office and out of the mansion and I didn't stop running. I couldn't stop running because I knew that the second I did, I would be confronted by my reality.

My husband was dead. I watched him die. I held his lifeless body in my arms, and the blood that was smeared across my dress and my hands wouldn't let me forget.

What made it worse was that it was my fault. Everything was my fault and it hurt so f*cking bad.

As I ran through the freezing cold city, dodging piles of black slush, I couldn't help but wish that I had spared Matteo and pulled the trigger on myself instead. Each time my foot hit the ground the little voice in my head would say, It should've been you. It should've been you. It should've been you!

I was the one who had an affair. I was the one who made a deal with our sworn enemy. I betrayed Enzo. It was my fault that Silvio's estate burned to the ground. I was the reason why Alberto never woke up. I shot Matteo. And Enzo was dead because of me.

I couldn't wrap my mind around how quickly everything came to an end.

A sick part of me regretted it. For a moment, as I passed by the Five Star Hotel, I wished that I had just let Lucas die. The thought terrified me, but in my desperation to save his life, I destroyed mine. I survived and that's what killed me, because I always believed that I would have been the one who didn't make it out. I never ever imagined that it would be Enzo.

No one noticed me as I ran. For the first time in my life I was invisible. The streets were overflowing as people prepared for the New Year in a couple of days, and because of that no one paid me any mind. They didn't seem to see anything wrong with a crazed woman in evening wear, running down the street covered in blood. It wasn't until I reached the lobby of their Upper East Side penthouse did the door man narrow his eyes at me and pick up the phone.

I ignored him and continued past the elevator to the stairs. My leg was throbbing but I ignored it and proceeded to knock on their door like a maniac.

"Dante!" Skyla called, eyes wide as she opened the door for me.

I turned around wondering if there was someone behind me because she looked like she had just seen the Devil himself. There was no one though.

Her husband strolled over with a bowl of ice cream in his hand, but the spoon fell to the ground the second his eyes found me. "Evelyn? What happened?"

"I- I- I-" I shook my head, unable to speak.

He pulled me into their home and locked the door behind us.

"Skyla, go get her clean clothes. I'm going to bring her to the bathroom." Dante instructed.

"He's gone." I finally managed to say. "He's gone."

"Who's gone?" Dante sat me down on the toilet and kneeled down in front of me.

"Enzo." I was beginning to hyperventilate again and it wasn't because of all of the running. "He's dead!"