1The man in seat 2A had less than a minute to breathe, and Evelyn Foster was the only person on the plane who noticed.

Evelyn scrambled backward in the mud, her heart dropping into her stomach. "Marco..."

Marco lowered his weapon slightly, his face covered in soot and blood. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were sharp. "Easy, Dr. Foster. I’m not going to shoot you."

"Where is Antonio?" Evelyn cried out, her voice breaking. "Is he... is he alive?"

Marco stepped aside.

Out of the tall reeds near the river, a towering figure emerged, leaning heavily on a wooden fence post. His shirt was torn, his chest covered in blood, but his gray-green eyes burned like hot coals in the darkness.

Antonio.

"Antonio!" Evelyn scrambled to her feet, ignoring the mud, and threw her arms around his neck.

Antonio groaned softly from the impact, but wrapped his powerful arms around her, burying his face in her neck. "I told you... no harm would come to you."

"How... how did you get out?" she sobbed, holding him tight.

"Leo thought he had us trapped in the foyer," Marco explained, wiping blood from his brow. "He didn't realize Mr. Vitelli had set thermite charges in the villa's main support pillars three years ago... just in case of a betrayal by the family."

"You blew up your own villa?" Evelyn looked at Antonio in disbelief.

"A house built on treachery deserves to burn," Antonio said quietly, looking back at the roaring flames on the hill. "Leo and my mother are trapped inside the vault wing. The Italian authorities and Interpol are already securing the perimeter. The Vitelli cartel is dead."

"And your mother?" Evelyn asked gently.

Antonio’s eyes darkened with a profound, quiet sorrow. "She chose her path. She wanted the empire. Now she can have its ashes."

Sirens echoed in the distance—dozens of Italian police cruisers and emergency vehicles racing up the winding roads toward the burning estate.

"The authorities will be here in minutes," Marco warned. "We need to move to the air strip. The private jet is ready."

Antonio looked down at Evelyn, taking her mud-stained hands into his. "You can come with me, Evelyn. To South America. To a place where no one knows our names. A new life."

Evelyn looked at him, feeling the heavy pull of her heart. She loved him—she had fallen for the fierce, protective, complex man beneath the mafia boss mask. But she looked at her hands, then at the distant flashing police lights.

"I can't run forever, Antonio," Evelyn said softly, tears glistening in her eyes. "I'm not a mob boss's wife. I'm a woman who loves the sky. I want my real life back."

Antonio stared at her for a long, silent moment. His jaw tightened, but slowly, a look of deep, heartbreaking respect filled his eyes.

"I know," Antonio whispered, kissing her forehead gently. "I knew the moment you stood up to my security team at thirty-seven thousand feet."

He pulled a small, heavy silver key on a chain from his neck and placed it in her palm, folding her fingers over it.

"This opens a private trust account in Geneva," Antonio said. "Fifty million dollars. Legitimate funds. You will never have to work a flight again unless you want to."