Part Eleven: The Escape
The months that followed their confession were a revelation.
Dating Masimo was nothing like being with Henrique had been.
Where Henrique had demanded constant reassurance, Masimo was secure in himself and in them.
Where Henrique had isolated her, Masimo encouraged her to maintain friendships. To spend time with her sister when she visited. To have her own life alongside their shared one.
“I fell in love with the woman you are,” he told her one evening as they cooked dinner together in his penthouse.
She’d kept her apartment. Insisted on it, though she spent more nights at his place than hers.
“I’m not interested in changing you into someone else.”
The difference was stark. Liberating.
She flourished under his attention rather than wilting.
Her painting progressed from hobby to genuine pursuit. A small showing at a local gallery scheduled for spring.
Her work at Bianke Imports continued to challenge and fulfill her. The promotion allowing her to implement changes she’d been considering for years.
But there were complications, too.
The nature of Masimo’s business. The shadows he operated in.
Occasionally intruding on their carefully constructed normal.
Like the night Dante interrupted their dinner with urgent news about a shipment that had been intercepted.
Masimo had excused himself.
His expression going cold and controlled. The businessman replaced by something harder. More dangerous.
“I’m sorry,” he’d said when he returned an hour later.
“This is the part I can’t change, cara. Sometimes business requires immediate attention.”
“I know,” she’d replied.
She had.
She’d chosen him with clear eyes. Accepting all the parts of who he was.
“Just come back safe.”
His smile had been soft. Surprised. Always.
They discussed the future in careful terms.
Marriage eventually, though they were both comfortable taking their time.
Children perhaps, though she wanted to be certain of her own stability first.
Building a life together that honored both their independence and their commitment.
It was three months after Henrique’s sentencing.
Eight months after their first kiss.
That everything crystallized.
Serena woke in Masimo’s bed.
Sunlight streaming through the windows. His arm draped over her waist.
Contentment settled over her like a warm blanket.
This was what love should feel like, she thought.
Safe. Chosen. Real.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Unknown number.
But the message made her blood run cold.
Serena Costa, this is Deputy Marshal Richards. Henrique Silva has escaped from custody. Please contact us immediately.
She sat up.
Her sudden movement waking Masimo.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, instantly alert.
She showed him the message.
Her hands trembling.
Henrique had been serving his sentence at a minimum security facility. The fraud charges not warranting high-security imprisonment.
Apparently, that had been a mistake.
Masimo was on his phone immediately.
Calling Dante. Calling his contacts. Activating the security protocols they’d hoped they’d never need.
Within an hour, the penthouse was locked down.
Additional security posted.
Every entrance monitored.
“He won’t get to you,” Masimo promised.
His arm around her shoulders as they sat in his study.
“I swear it, Serena. He won’t touch you.”
But the fear was corrosive.
Eating away at the peace she’d built.
Every sound made her jump. Every shadow could be Henrique.
The freedom she’d fought so hard for felt suddenly fragile.
Threatened.
“I won’t let him make me a victim again,” she said.
Her voice fierce despite her shaking hands.
“I won’t go back to being afraid.”
Deputy Marshal Richards arrived that afternoon.
A professional woman with kind eyes and a no-nonsense manner.
“We have every reason to believe Silva will attempt contact,” she warned.
“His obsession with you was noted throughout his incarceration. He made threats against you. Against Mr. Bianke. We take this seriously.”
“What are our options?” Masimo asked.
His hand finding Serena’s. Anchoring her.
“Protective custody for Miss Costa. Ideally until Silva is recaptured.”
“No.”
Serena said it immediately.
“I’m not hiding again. I’m not letting him control my life.”
“Serena—”
“No.”
She repeated it more firmly.
“I spent three years accommodating Henrique’s jealousy. His control. I spent months rebuilding my life after escaping him. I’m not going into hiding now. We deal with this. But on my terms.”
Deputy Marshal Richards looked between them.
“Ms. Costa, I understand your desire for autonomy. But this is a dangerous situation.”
“Then make it less dangerous,” Serena countered.
“Increase security. Monitor my movements. Whatever you need to do. But I’m not disappearing. I have a job. A life. People who depend on me. Henrique doesn’t get to take that away.”
After Richards left, Masimo pulled her close.
“You’re sure about this?”
“Yes.”
She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes.
“I survived him once. I’ll survive him again. But I won’t do it by running.”
His smile was fierce with pride.
“Then we stand and fight. Together.”
