Please Divorce Me, Alpha! {BL}

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By midnight, I was fully convinced I was a criminal mastermind.

Pretty impressive, considering just three hours earlier, I almost stumbled into a decorative fountain because I was too busy eyeing the security cameras.

But hey, everyone has to start somewhere. Mine just happened to be the ridiculously lavish home of a mafia Don who seemed to think my freedom was a personal affront.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror of my bedroom, dressed in all black, I felt the kind of solemn determination usually seen in soldiers gearing up for battle.

Black hoodie, black pants, black sneakers. My backpack was packed with everything I thought I’d need to survive. Honestly, I looked less like a mysterious fugitive and more like someone who’d been asked to take out the trash after dark. But hey, it’d have to do.

I adjusted my hood and checked myself out again.

"Tonight," I whispered, "I become free." The guy in the mirror looked terrified as hell, but I shrugged it off.

Dramatic much?

Picking up my backpack, I slung it over my shoulder and double-checked everything for the seventh time: cash, documents, a few outfits, my phone and charger, toiletries, and a book.

I’d spent days planning this. I knew the corridors the servants used after midnight, which staircases creaked, and which security cameras had overlapping blind spots.

Most importantly, I knew which gate had the lazy guard. Thank you, Nikolai!

My utterly unsuspecting accomplice in Operation Damsel in Distress. I still felt a bit guilty about using him, but then I remembered he helped me out of a mafia estate, and the guilt packed its bags and took a vacation.

I opened my bedroom door, and the hallway was dark and silent. For a moment, I just stood there.

The Castelli estate felt massive during the day, but at night? It turned into something else entirely.

The ceilings seemed higher, the hallways longer, and every shadow felt like it had been assigned to keep an eye on me. I stepped out and quietly shut the door behind me. No turning back now.

I made it halfway down the corridor when I heard footsteps. I froze, my heart racing. A servant rounded the corner, carrying a stack of linens.

We locked eyes; I was staring at him, and he was staring back at me. I forced a smile. He looked confused.

"Can’t sleep, sir?" he asked.

I swallowed. "No."

He glanced at my black outfit and backpack, and I smiled wider. "I’ve grown to appreciate nighttime walks."

He nodded slowly, probably concluding that rich people were just peculiar. "Good night, sir."

"Good night."

He disappeared down the hall. I waited for his footsteps to fade, staying perfectly still until the quiet returned. Then I exhaled like I’d just run a marathon. That was too close.

I continued down the corridor, moving more cautiously this time. Every little sound made me tense up. The slight crackle of a radio from a guard outside felt like the opening score to my execution.

I reached the back staircase and slipped down it, avoiding the third step that made a loud squeak.

I’d learned that the hard way during my second week here when I stepped on it at three in the morning, nearly dying of embarrassment when a maid appeared out of nowhere.

Even the furniture here seemed more aware than I was.

‎Still, I pushed on, muttering about Alphas and their ridiculous security, annoyed at having to sneak away from a marriage that was never supposed to drag on this long.

‎

Eventually, I got to the service corridor. The exit was so close I could almost taste it. I pushed open the side door and stepped outside, the cold night air hitting my face like a slap after the warm stillness of the house.

The smell of wet grass and distant rain filled my lungs. I almost laughed, I was out!

Well, sort of.

I was still technically on the estate grounds, surrounded by enough walls, guards, and surveillance to make a small country jealous. But I was closer. Much closer.

Staying in the shadows, I crossed the garden, my eyes scanning the darkness. The northern service gate appeared ahead, and my pulse quickened. There he was, the guard.

Exactly where Nikolai said he’d be. And, unless I was hallucinating, he was fast asleep, head dropped on his chest with his radio crackling softly against his side, completely oblivious to the fugitive slipping past him.

I stared at him for a few seconds, then whispered, "You beautiful, incompetent man."

I almost wanted to kiss him. Instead, I quietly snuck by.

The gate was just a few meters away. I reached it without a hitch. My fingers curled around the cold, slightly damp metal bars.

Freedom! I could practically taste it. Then I looked up.

The wall. My confidence took a huge hit. The outer wall was massive. Not impossibly massive, but big enough that I finally got why most sane people just went through the front gate.

I stared at it and it stared back.

"This is fine," I murmured, it definitely wasn’t.

I had never climbed anything that wasn’t my bed in my life!

I set my backpack down, rubbed my palms against my pants, and started to climb. The first few feet went surprisingly well, I even felt a bit proud of myself.

Look at me...athletic, resourceful, a fugitive.

Then my foot slipped.

"Ah—!"

I grabbed the stone ledge with both hands and pressed myself against the wall. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest.

I stayed like that for a few seconds, breathing heavily with my cheek pressed to the cold stone, every muscle in my arms shaking from the effort of not falling.

"Okay," I whispered. "Maybe I’m not as athletic as I thought."

I kept at it, halfway up, my backpack snagged on something and I tugged at it. Nothing, then I yanked harder. Still nothing.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I twisted around to find one of the straps had caught on a protruding stone.

Of course. Even my backpack was trying to sabotage me. I freed it and kept climbing.

By the time I reached the top, my arms were quaking. I pulled myself over the edge, swung one leg across, and immediately realized I had made a terrible mistake.

There was nothing graceful about climbing down the other side.

I slipped, lost my grip, and yelled, "Shit!" as I dropped.

The fall wasn’t far enough to kill me, but it was enough to make me reconsider my life choices. I landed hard in the grass.

"Oof!"

God, that hurt like a bitch!

For a moment, I just laid there, staring at the sky and breathing. Alive.

Then a laugh escaped me, starting off quiet and disbelieving, then growing into a ridiculous burst of laughter. I had done it. I had actually climbed the wall. I had escaped.

I sat up, my knees hurt, my shoulder hurt, and my dignity had definitely taken a hit halfway down the wall.

But I was outside!

Scrambling to my feet, I brushed the grass off my hoodie. "I can’t believe I actually made it."

Or so I thought...

I turned around and walked straight into a chest and very solid chest.

Time froze, slowly, painfully, I lifted my head. Whitish-blond hair, sharp features, emerald eyes, black coat, and a perfectly composed expression with just a hint of amusement on his lips.

My soul left my body with no word as to when it would ever return.

"Hello, Alex."

His voice was low and almost casual.

I was wide-eyed, staring at him while he stared back.

The silence stretched uncomfortably, broken only by the distant chirp of some insect that had no idea it was witnessing the demise of my dignity.

Then Lorenzo tilted his head slightly. "Going somewhere?"

"AHHH!!!" I screamed.

Not exactly a dignified scream, but hey, it was a scream from a guy who just realized his meticulously planned escape had been intercepted by the human version of a security system.

I stumbled backward and landed on the grass again.

Lorenzo looked down at me while I looked up at him, my brain scrambling for an explanation. Nothing came to mind.

So, I went with the first thing that popped up. I laughed nervously..."H–hey, Lorenzo...what’s up?! I was just going for a w...walk."

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "At midnight?"

"Yes."

"Outside the estate?"

"..."

"After climbing the outer wall?"

I glanced at the wall and then back at him. "I like exercise."

His mouth twitched. I hated that mouth. I hated how attractive he was. I hated the calmness of his whole demeanor. Most of all, I hated how it felt like he’d been standing there waiting for me to embarrass myself.

"You’re such a terrible liar."

He crouched down in front of me. Even in that position, he looked annoyingly elegant, like he was posing for some magazine cover titled "Mafia Don Catches Runaway Omega Husband."

His gaze traveled over my black hoodie, my backpack, the dirt on my clothes, and finally to my scraped palms.

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