CHAPTER 21

**AVA**
The early morning hours drag on as I remain at the crime scene. The fatigue weighs on my shoulders and my leg throbs, but adrenaline still courses through my veins.
Eventually, Pietro and I are taken to the police station to resolve some formalities. I'm surprised when the officer releases us quickly, without many questions.
We leave the station, and I feel exhaustion taking over. Each step makes the pain in my leg worse. An ambulance treated the wound, but I still need to go to the hospital to check my head, which also took a blow. Pietro is by my side, worried.
"Ava, let me take you to the hospital, please.", he asks, the concern evident in his voice.
I shake my head, looking at him with determination.
"A lot has happened tonight. I just want to go home after this."
He nods, understanding. Before I move away, he holds my hand, his expression full of anxiety.
"I hope this doesn't ruin everything between us."
"Me too...", I murmur, moving away from him.
I call an Uber and head to the hospital. There, they stitch the cut on my leg and do an X-ray on my head. The next two hours pass in a blur of fluorescent lights and muffled murmurs. When I'm finally released, I feel even more exhausted but relieved to be physically intact.
While sitting in the waiting room, I watch at the television that's on. The people around me seem mesmerized by the news report. My heart races when a news channel starts talking about what happened in the building.
"Billionaire Pietro Mazzoni and his girlfriend were attacked tonight by thieves who broke into one of his properties."
Images and videos of the building surrounded by police fill the screen. My heart beats faster when I see myself in the footage, sitting next to Pietro. Damn it. The people around me start to recognize me, and I feel their curious and judgmental gazes.
I get up and walk down the long corridor to the bathroom. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to calm my thoughts. When I open my eyes, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The news said the men who attacked us were thieves, but I know that's not true. The story was manipulated to hide the reality.
I call another Uber to take me back to my apartment. I'm exhausted, sleepy, and hungry. The night seems endless, and I know that in a few hours, a new morning will come. I enter the apartment, feeling a bit safer, but still disturbed.
I make something quick to eat and sit on the couch, trying to process everything that happened. My phone vibrates with a message from Paul.
"My God, Ava! I saw on TV what happened to you, and I'm so sorry. I can imagine the fear you felt. You don't need to come to work for the rest of the week to recover. See you next week."
I sigh, reading the message and feeling relieved that I don't have to face work so soon. I open my laptop and start looking for news about the incident. There are many now, all sensationalizing what happened.
I click on one of the photos showing Pietro next to me, so close that anyone would think he's my boyfriend. The image is sharp, and, despite the tense situation, Pietro looks protective, almost possessive. The headlines vary, but all seem to revolve around the idea of a violent attack on one of Pietro's properties.
I feel a wave of frustration. The media is distorting the facts and omitting the truth. Those people weren't simple thieves. There was a much darker and more complex story behind that attack, and I'm determined to uncover the truth.
I turn off the laptop and lie down on the couch, trying to relax, but my mind doesn't stop thinking about what happened. The words of the bearded man echo in my head. He blamed Pietro for his wife's death. What did that mean? What secrets was Pietro hiding?
Exhaustion finally begins to overcome me. I close my eyes, trying to calm my mind. My hands still tremble a little as I remember the blood and the gunshots. The weight of what I did—killing people to survive—haunts me. I'm not the same person I was before this night. Something inside of me has changed forever.
I wake up with the morning light entering through the window. My head throbs and my leg still hurts, but the fatigue seems a bit less. I make an effort to get up and go to the kitchen, where I prepare a strong coffee.
While I wait for the coffee to be ready, my thoughts return to Pietro. I need answers. I grab my phone and type a quick message to him, asking to meet later. He needs to tell me the truth, and I need to understand what's going on.
I sit at the table with my cup of coffee, looking at my phone's screen. The notification of several unread messages reminds me of the chaos this situation has caused in my life. I open a message from an old friend, expressing concern and offering help. I reply briefly, thanking them but not going into details.
As I finish my coffee, I feel a renewed determination. I will find out the truth, no matter the cost. If Pietro is involved in something dangerous, I need to know. And if we're really in this together, then he must trust me enough to tell me.
A message from him arrives, and I quickly read it:
"Good morning, Ava. I hope you are well. I also want to meet you, but tonight I can't. I'm sorry."
I stare at his words, realizing he seems to be avoiding me. I close my eyes for a few seconds before turning off my phone.
Not only that, but I think back to when we were at his apartment, smiling, and when I signed that contract. Seconds later, my mind shifts to the moment I held that gun in my hands and killed those men.
I also remember Pietro's words, telling me I had to do it to survive. He's right; I did it to survive, but I did nothing when I saw those men kill my family. I just cried under the bed, waiting for them to leave. I was a child, and I couldn't do anything to stop them, but today I'm an adult woman, and I know I can protect myself now.
When I open my eyes, I feel a tear rolling down my face, but I quickly wipe my eyes, not allowing myself to cry at this moment.
I've cried enough; too many tears were shed in the last hours, and now I mentally wonder what my life will be like after all this news on the internet.