The air in the house was thick—charged, electric, as if it sensed what was coming. Hazel paced the cold marble floor, her bare feet making soft, rapid taps like a ticking clock counting down. Her chest heaved. Rage and betrayal curled in her gut, cold and hot all at once. The camera she'd found—neatly hidden behind the ornate wooden frame mirror in the corner of the room—wasn't just a device. It was a fracture in her already fragile trust.
Enzo walked in like a storm after the silence, tailored in a black suit that only made his presence more daunting. His hands were in his pockets, calm, composed, unreadable. But Hazel wasn't looking for calm anymore.
"You put a camera in my room." Her voice cracked—not from weakness, but from fury restrained for too long.
Enzo paused. His expression didn't change. No apology, no shame—only a flicker of tension in his jaw. "It was for your safety."
Her laugh was brittle. "My safety? Is that what you tell yourself when you violate my privacy? When you spy on me in the one place I'm supposed to feel safe?" She crossed the room, jabbing her finger into his chest. "You said this was my home. But it's not. It's a cage. And now I know it's a cage with cameras."
Enzo held her gaze, unreadable. "You're not a prisoner."
"Really?" she snapped. "Then why do I feel like one? Why do I wake up and feel watched? Why do I second-guess every move I make, wondering if I'm doing it wrong in your world?"
He stepped back, slowly. "I didn't do it to control you, Hazel. I did it because there are people who want to hurt you. The moment you became mine, you were a target. That camera—it wasn't for spying. It was to make sure you and the baby are protected."
"You don't get it." Her voice broke, soft now, bitter. "That's the problem. You've convinced yourself that protecting me means controlling everything. Watching me. Deciding for me. But I didn't sign up for this life. I didn't agree to be watched like an asset. I didn't agree to be owned."
Enzo's brows furrowed. "You're not owned. You're my—"
"I'm not yours, Enzo." She shook her head. "I might've been once. I might've wanted to be. But now? I can't even tell who you are. One moment, you're tender, gentle, the man who held my hand in the dark. The next, you're the capo dei capi who makes decisions behind glass walls and calls it love."
He was silent for a moment. The only sound was the distant hum of the city below and the faint rustle of her voice lingering in the air.
"I can't raise a child like this," she said softly. "Not in this house. Not in this world."
Enzo's eyes flickered. "You want out."
Hazel nodded, slowly. "I want out of this life. The blood, the secrets, the constant fear. I want our child to grow up without bodyguards at school, without watching their back at every corner. I want a life where I can walk outside without wondering if I'll get shot because of who I'm with."
Enzo's jaw tensed, that cold, unreadable mask returning. "And what about us?"
She looked at him—really looked at him. The man who had stolen her breath and her heart, the man who had torn her world apart and stitched it back together, but with scars in all the wrong places.
"I don't know," she said. "Maybe there's a future for us. Maybe not. But I know this isn't the way to build it."
He stepped closer, his voice low, measured. "You think walking away will keep you safe? That if you leave, everything goes back to normal?"
"No," she said. "I know it won't. But I'd rather fight for a normal life than surrender to a poisoned one."
Enzo exhaled, slow and steady. "Hazel, I love you."
She blinked. "Then show me. Not with cameras. Not with guards. Not with orders. Show me by letting me go."
For the first time, she saw something crack behind his eyes. Not fear. Not anger. But the raw edge of someone who wasn't used to losing. Someone who had built empires and crushed enemies—but couldn't control the woman he loved.
He walked to the window, hands in his pockets, watching the skyline. "I was raised in this world. There was no out for me. No second option. Everything I have, everything I am—it's because I embraced the darkness and made it kneel."
Hazel's voice was quiet. "And now you want our child to kneel to it too?"
He turned. That question hit deeper than any bullet.
"I won't let anyone hurt you," he said, his voice low, steady, desperate in a way he wouldn't admit. "Even if it means you hate me for it."
"I don't hate you," she whispered. "But I can't love someone I don't trust."
The silence between them stretched, vast and suffocating.
"I want you to think about something," she said finally. "If I left tomorrow… with the baby… would you come with me? Not as Enzo the Don. Not as the man who controls half the city. But as the man who sat with me on the bathroom floor when I was scared and crying. As the man who said he'd never let the world touch me."
His silence said everything.
Hazel nodded once, a single tear trailing down her cheek. "Then I guess I have my answer."
She walked past him, her hand brushing his arm for only a second, like a goodbye that hadn't yet been spoken aloud.
"I'm not saying it's forever," she said without turning around. "But it is for now. I need to figure out who I am without you watching me. And you… you need to decide what kind of man you really want to be."
The door clicked shut behind her like a final note in a requiem.
Enzo remained at the window, still and quiet. Below him, the city burned in gold and neon, alive with the ghosts of his choices. He could order a dozen men to bring her back. He could make a call and have eyes on her every step. But she'd never look at him the same.
And that terrified him more than any enemy ever had.