She Ripped My Dress at the Gala—Then My Father Walked In and Destroyed Her Life

The Volkovs' Last Stand

My father pulled out his phone and made a call. "Drago, get the car ready. We're leaving through the service tunnel. And call the Rome police—tell them we have a Code Red."

Within minutes, we were moving through the maze of underground corridors beneath the Palazzo Rossi. My father kept one hand on my elbow, guiding me through the darkness.

"The Volkovs are in Rome," he said, his voice low. "I've been tracking them for weeks. They've been trying to infiltrate our supply lines, and Bianca was their inside woman."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

"Because I didn't want to put you in more danger," he said. "But now you need to know everything."

We reached a steel door at the end of the tunnel. Drago swiped his keycard, and it slid open to reveal a dark garage. Three black SUVs waited, engines idling.

"You'll take the middle one," my father said, opening the door for me. "Drago will drive. I'll be in the lead car with the rest of the security team."

I climbed in, my hands shaking. The baby kicked again, harder this time.

"It's okay," I whispered to my belly. "We're going to be okay."

The convoy sped through the streets of Rome, past the Colosseum, past the Tiber. The city looked unreal, lit up in gold and shadow.

Then, on the Via del Corso, a black van swerved in front of us, blocking the road.

"Hold on!" Drago shouted, yanking the wheel.

The SUV screeched to a halt. Men in dark clothes swarmed out of the van, guns drawn.

But my father's security team was faster. They returned fire, the sound of gunshots echoing off the ancient walls.

"Stay down!" Drago shouted, pushing my head below the dashboard.

I curled around my belly, praying. The gunfire lasted a full minute, then stopped.

"Clear," Drago said, his voice tight. "But we need to move. Now."

He floored the accelerator, and we shot past the wreckage. I caught a glimpse of bodies on the pavement—but I couldn't tell whose.

We drove for another twenty minutes, until we reached a private villa outside the city. My father was already there, waiting in the courtyard.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, rushing to my door.

"I'm fine," I said, stepping out on shaky legs. "But what about Bianca?"

"She's in custody," he said. "The police picked her up at the palace. And the Volkovs... let's just say they won't be bothering us again."

I let out a long breath. It was over.

"There's something else," my father said, his voice softening. "I had my lawyers draw up a new will. Everything goes to you and the baby. Sebastian gets nothing."

I stared at him. "Dad, I don't need—"

"I know you don't need it," he said. "But I want you to have it. You've proven yourself tonight, Elena. You're stronger than I ever was."

Tears filled my eyes again—but this time, they were happy ones.

"Thank you, Dad."

He pulled me into a hug, his arms strong and safe. "You're going to be a wonderful mother," he said. "And your child is going to be the most protected person in the world."

I smiled against his shoulder. "I know."

As we walked into the villa, I felt a kick—strong and determined.

"You hear that?" I said to my father. "They're ready to meet the world."

He laughed, the first real laugh I'd heard from him in months. "They're going to be just like you."

I looked back at the city lights behind us, thinking of Bianca and Sebastian, locked away where they couldn't hurt anyone else.

"No," I said softly. "They're going to be better."

And in that moment, I knew that the nightmare was finally over. The Ashworth name would live on—not through greed or betrayal, but through love.

I placed a hand on my belly, feeling the flutter of new life.

"Welcome to the family," I whispered. "You're going to be great."