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He steps closer and tries to reach for me. The anger in me burns hotter and fiercer, and my chest tightens. He’s just standing there, still so calm, like he’s in control of everything. Like this is just another day for him.

But I can’t let it go. Not now. Not after everything.

I move quickly, my hand reaching for the gun tucked in the back of my jeans. The one he gave me. The one I never wanted to use but always kept close. I pull it out and point it at him.

I should kill him. I should.

“If you ever touch me again,” I spit, my voice trembling with the weight of everything inside me, “I swear to God I’ll blow your fucking brains out.”

He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t move. His eyes meet mine, and there’s something in them, something I can’t quite place. “Dolcezza, please. Let me explain.”

I laugh. But it’s not really a laugh. It’s a sharp, broken sound. Like I’m trying to keep it together but failing miserably. “Explain what?” I scoff. “That all this time I’ve been fucking the murderer who killed my freaking parents? The man who turned my whole life into a mess, who made me this empty, depressed girl who thinks the world is out to get her?”

I can feel my heart breaking all over again, but I don’t let him see it. I won’t let him see it.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he looks at me like I’m some puzzle he’s still trying to figure out. Then, finally, his voice comes, rough and regretful, like it’s been held back for far too long.“I didn’t have a choice. It was either me or them. You don’t know how sick and twisted this world is…what more for me, someone who had no one and was just trying to find my footing. I was given an order and told to do it, no questions asked.” Then, his voice drops lower. “They were connected. Your parents, Daniela, they knew too much. They were involved with some things they shouldn’t have been. Things I didn’t even know about until it was too late.” He pauses, his face hardening as if the memory is a knife twisting inside him.

“Your father…he was a lawyer, right? A good one. He had his hands in every goddamn pot. Corruption, shady deals, money laundering for people who would kill to keep their names out of the public eye. They didn’t know he was trying to get out, trying to cut ties with people who could pull him back in. He thoughthe could walk away clean. But they don’t let people walk away clean. Not in this world.”

The words hit harder than I expected, like a punch to the gut. My hands clench at my sides, and I have to force myself to stay calm.

“You’re lying,” I hiss, shaking my head, refusing to believe it.

“Maybe I wish I were,” he says, his voice tight. “But that’s the reality. Your parents…they were tangled with people who had no problem making them disappear. The order wasn’t about them, per se. It was about keeping the secrets buried. My loyalty was to my boss, and I had a job to do.”

I want to scream at him. Tell him he’s a monster. Tell him he’s justifying murder like it’s just another day at the office. But it’s like the words stick in my throat.

“If I hadn’t done it…if I had hesitated…I’d be dead right now, and you wouldn’t be standing here. It’s how this world works, Daniela. You do what you’re told, or you don’t survive.”

The truth stabs deep, sharper than any knife could.

It’s the way he says it that makes me want to scream. I can hear the regret in his voice.

Because now, I understand him. I get it. I get why he did it. Why he didn’t think twice. But understanding doesn’t make it right. It doesn’t make me forgive him.

I hate myself even more because I get it. I see the pain in his eyes—the weight of everything he’s done—and I know it’s not something he can ever undo. But it doesn’t stop the fury inside me from rising up, doesn’t stop me from wanting to scream at him, to make him feel what I feel.

And then it hits me. He didn’t know me back then. He didn’t know who I was. He didn’t know what kind of person I’d grow into. He didn’t know he’d pull me into this twisted, fucked-up world.

But I’m here, and I’m already in too deep.

I stare at him, trying to hold on to the hatred, but all I feel is exhaustion. All I feel is emptiness. “How long have you known?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper at first. It feels like the most important thing in the world.

“Dolcezza—”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” I snap, my fury rising again. “You pathetic piece of shit. Answer my fucking question, or I swear to God, I’ll shoot you right now. How long have you fucking known?”

His eyes don’t even flicker. There’s no hesitation. Nothing. Remo Callegari doesn’t fear death. He’s seen it too many times to care about the threat in my voice.

But what pulls me under is the sadness in his eyes. It tugs at my heartstrings, twists them, and makes me wish I could crawl out of my own skin and leave this nightmare behind.

I close my eyes for a second when I feel like I’m drowning in everything that’s happened, everything that’s been said. I regret it all. I regret stepping into his house. I regret trusting him. I regret ever letting myself care.

“I’ve known since the minute you stepped into my house,” he says. “I just didn’t care enough to let that keep you away from me. I wanted you. And the past is the past.”

In my head, I’ve already shot him a thousand times and watched him fall to the floor with his blood pooling around him. I’ve already killed him over and over again.

But when I open my eyes and see him standing there, so close, his chest rising and falling with every breath, all I feel is that hollow emptiness.