Deep in the Canadian Rockies.
It had been six months since my “death.”
I’d become obsessed with extreme mountaineering–something about the bone–cutting wind and deadly cliffs helped wash away the blood and betrayal that still poisoned my soul. Every climb was an attempt to feel something other than the hollow rage that had
taken up residence in my chest.
That death certificate was fake, naturally. Cost me ten million to buy off the bodyguard who was supposed to be “monitoring” me, plus some very convincing medical records.
My parents had already vanished overseas with new identities, quietly rebuilding our wine empire from the shadows.
That day, I’d just reached the glacier summit when ominous tremors started shaking the ground beneath my feet.
Avalanche! A mountain of white death came roaring down like the wrath of God.
ust as I was about to be buried alive, a hand in black tactical gloves yanked me into a narrow ice crevice.
Deep in the crack, a man in dark red alpine gear sat with his back against the ice wall, eyes closed like he was meditating on his own
nortality.
His hood and face mask covered everything except sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass.
He radiated coldness that made the Arctic air feel tropical.
Thank you,” I gasped, still shaking from the near–death experience.
Shut up. Save your energy,” he replied through his mask, voice flat as roadkill.
he audacity! Here I was being grateful for not becoming an ice pancake, and this asshole gives me attitude? Fine. Two could play
hat game.
We sat in hostile silence until the avalanche stopped trying to murder us.
hen this lunatic actually stood up and started climbing higher into the death zone.
Are you completely fucking insane?! The avalanche just stopped! A bigger one could hit any second!”
le glanced back at me with what I could only assume was pure disdain.
Boring.”
hen he just walked away like I was some annoying tourist.
‘d never met anyone so arrogantly suicidal in my entire life. And considering my recent history with psychopathic men, that was aying something.
or some reason I still can’t explain, I followed this death–wish–having lunatic up the mountain.
le moved with surprising agility, but something felt off about his build under all that gear. Too slight, too… familiar somehow?
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Chapter 7
Just as I was trying to figure out why he seemed oddly recognizable, his foot slipped and he went tumbling down the steep ice wall like a rag doll.
Below him was nothing but jagged rocks that would turn him into human confetti.
“Goddammit, I must owe you from a past life!” I cursed, ditching my heavy pack and rappelling down after him with my ice axe and rope. At the last possible second, I managed to snag his safety line.
He was out cold, blood trickling from his helmet.
I somehow dragged his deadweight to the nearest rescue station, my muscles screaming in protest,
“Severe oxygen deprivation, compound fracture of the left tibia. We need to operate immediately!” The doctor rattled off his condition while shoving consent forms at me.
I was about to tell them I wasn’t responsible for this suicidal stranger when I noticed the emergency contact section was completely
blank.
No family. No friends. Nothing,
After a moment of internal debate, I signed under “Relationship“: Girlfriend. Isabella Sorento,
The surgery took hours, but it was successful.
Afterward, the doctor pulled me aside with the kind of expression that meant terrible news was coming.
“Miss Sorento, your ‘boyfriend‘… he has ALS. Lou Gehrig’s disease.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. ALS–a death sentence that traps your mind in a body that slowly stops working.
“That explains why he was in such a hurry to reach the summit…”
“We can try to slow the progression, but… patients typically have three to five years, maybe less.”
When I finally went back to his room, he was awake and staring at the ceiling with hollow eyes.
His hood was down now, revealing a face that was both heartbreakingly young and deathly pale. When he saw me, he rolled his eyes without any attempt to hide his annoyance,
Seriously?” I snapped. “I just saved your ungrateful ass and you’re giving me attitude?”
He responded with another dramatic eye roll.
t took two weeks of me playing nursemaid before he finally decided to grace me with actual conversation.
“Vincenzo,” he said, studying my face intently. “And you, my fake girlfriend?”
The name hit me like lightning. My heart stopped beating for a full second.
V–Vincenzo?” I stammered, memories flooding back.
‘Vincenzo Moretti? From Tuscany?”
A ghost of a smile flickered across his pale features.
Took you long enough, Bella.”
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Chapter 7
Holy shit.
This dying, smartass mountaineer was my childhood neighbor.
The boy who used to steal grapes from our vineyard and leave wildflowers on my windowsill.
The heir to Moretti Arms–the world’s largest weapons empire, making even the Ducatis look like small–time players.
The one who’d promised to marry me when we turned eighteen, before his family suddenly moved to America when we were fifteen–supposedly for his education, but I knew now it was for medical treatment.
We’d kept in touch through calls and messages over the years, but seeing him like this… wasted away by disease, barely recognizable… it shattered something inside me.
“You bastard!” I punched his shoulder, probably harder than I should have given his condition.
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?!”
C
“Where’s the fun in that?” He winced but his eyes held that familiar mischievous glint I remembered.
“Besides, you looked like you needed an adventure that didn’t involve psychotic ex–husbands.”
The casual way he mentioned Massimo made my blood run cold.
“How much do you know?”
“Everything, princess. I’ve been keeping tabs on you since you called me that night.”
His voice softened, losing its sarcastic edge.
‘Did you really think I’d let you disappear without making sure you were safe?”
The realization hit me like a truck.
‘You’ve been following me. The whole time.”
‘Someone had to. You have a talent for finding trouble.” He reached out and touched my cheek gently.
I told you I’d always protect you, remember?”
But why?” My voice cracked.
Why risk your life coming after me? You’re dying, Vincenzo! You should be somewhere safe, getting treatment, not playing extreme
sports in fucking Canada!”
His expression shifted–that cocky smirk melting into something raw and vulnerable.
‘Because I need an answer, Bella.” His voice was barely a whisper.
‘Remember that summer when we were eighteen? When I climbed through your bedroom window like some lovesick Romeo and asked you to marry me?”
My breath caught.
Of course I remembered.
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Chapter 7
How could I forget?
“You said you needed time to think about it. That was seven years ago.” He laughed, but it sounded broken.
Tve been waiting for your answer ever since. Figured I’d better come collect it before this disease takes away my chance to ask
again.”
Tears I didn’t know I’d been holding back started flowing.
“Vincenzo…”
“Don’t you dare cry over me, Sorento,” he said, but his thumb wiped away my tears anyway.
But I couldn’t handle this. The flood of memories, the guilt, the confusion–it was too much.
Not after everything I’d been through. I was barely holding myself together as it was.
“Call your family.” I slapped a piece of paper with the Moretti emergency number on his bedside table. “I’m done playing nursemaid to your bony ass.”
The Morettis descended like a black tide that very afternoon–men in expensive suits with dead eyes and weapons barely concealed
under their jackets. These weren’t just any crime family soldiers; they moved with military precision that spoke of global operations
and unlimited resources.
I didn’t hesitate to extract myself from the situation and flew back to New Zealand where my parents were waiting.
I needed space.
I needed time to process that my childhood love was dying, that he’d been watching me destroy my life from the shadows, and that he was still waiting for an answer to a question I’d been too scared to face seven years ago.
Most of all, I needed to figure out why seeing him again made me feel like maybe, just maybe, there was still something left inside
me worth saving.
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