Page 157 of Auctioned Innocence

“Free,” I answer honestly. “Finally, completely free. And you?”

Kira is quiet for a moment, then speaks in Russian first: “??? ?????? ? ????.” She translates with a small smile. “Like a stone lifted from the soul. Yes, I feel free too.”

We leave the warehouse as sirens begin to wail in the distance. Behind us, authorities will find evidence that will shut down trafficking rings across three continents and free dozens of girls. They’ll discover financial records that will topple corrupt officials and destroy Rouge’s entire network.

As our extraction vehicle speeds through Prague’s darkened streets, Dante reaches over and squeezes my hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Really good,” I say, pulling out the photo of baby Maisie. “Like I can finally breathe again.”

He brings my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles gently. “Ready to go home to our daughter?”

“More than ready,” I answer, studying Maisie’s sleeping face in the photo. “She’s safe. We’re all safe.”

For the first time in over a year, I smile without any shadows behind it. The hunt is finished. Justice is served. And I get to go home to my family—the family I chose, the life I built, the future I fought for.

I am Sofia Renaldi-Moretti. I am a survivor, a mother, a protector of the innocent.

And I am finally, completely, triumphantlyfree.

EXTENDED EPILOGUE: BIANCA

I’m halfway down the marble hallway of our family estate when I hear his name.

“Alessandro, you can’t be serious.”

My father’s voice stops me in my tracks. Just the sound of Alessandro Ricci’s name makes my heart skip—pathetic, really, how affected I am by a man who probably sees me as nothing more than Matteo DeLuca’s little girl.

I press closer to Dad’s office door, barely breathing. I can’t make out Alessandro’s response, but his deep voice carries through the phone line, making my father curse in rapid Italian.

“It’s been twelve years,” Dad snaps. “Why now? Why—” He cuts off, listening.

I should keep walking, should pretend I don’t notice how my pulse races every time Alessandro visits the estate. How his dark eyes sometimes linger on me a fraction too long before he catches himself.

“Sophia wouldn’t have wanted this.” My father’s voice breaks on my mother’s name. He still struggles to talk about her, about what happened twelve years ago. “She made her choices, but this…this isn’t what any of us wanted.”

More murmuring from Alessandro. Something about it makes the hair on my neck stand up.

“Fine.” Dad’s chair scrapes back. “But we do this my way. I won’t risk?—”

He stops abruptly, and I realize his footsteps are approaching the door. I start to move, but it’s too late.

“Bianca?” The door opens, and I try not to look guilty. “What are you doing out here?”

“Just passing by.” I force a smile, studying his face. He looks pale, tension radiating from his shoulders in a way I’ve learned to read over the years. “Everything okay?”

“Of course.” He kisses my forehead, but his eyes are distant. Already dialing someone on his phone. “Go find Bella.”

I’m barely around the corner when I hear him speak.

“Antonio? I need you here immediately. We have a situation.”

My father, the always-composed head of the DeLuca family, sounds genuinely concerned. His voice carries that edge I’ve only heard a handful of times—when Uncle Mario returned, when Bella was threatened.

And somehow, Alessandro Ricci—a complication I’ve been trying to avoid since I turned eighteen—is at the center of it all.

I need to find out why.