Page 74

“I know you’re angry, and you want to protect me. But you don’t get to blow up an entire empire because your ego is bruised.”
He spins toward me, thunder in his eyes. “This isn’t ego,” he snaps. “It’s someone messing with my bloodline.”
“It’s business, too,” I reply, calm but pointed.
He goes still.
“Your trade routes into Europe have expanded by more than fifty percent since the Bratva partnership. You finally have a grip on Antwerp and a clean cut through Eastern Europe. Don’t pretend you do not need that to take your business to the next level.”
Mom watches me with something like awe in her expression.
“Zasha is not only my husband,” I continue. “He’s also a leader in the Makarov Bratva. And whether or not we stay married, that organization is on the rise. You’ve said it yourself for the last three years—they are going to rule the dark world of New York with or without you.”
Thiago breathes heavily through his nose. I can see my words are getting through to him, so I continue. “Cutting ties with them now wouldn’t just be a wrong move. It would be stupid. You’d be setting fire to your own future.”
He glares at me, jaw flexing.
Then slowly, he lowers himself into the chair. Still fuming, but silent. I watch his rage shrink into something tighter, smaller. Something he can’t justify with logic.
He knows I’m right.
27
As his anger thins into silence, I say the last thing I came here to say.
Better to let it all out at once.
“Papa,” I begin, carefully. “There’s one more thing I need to ask you.”
He doesn’t look at me. His eyes are trained on the floor.
“Please, I want to leave the country.”
He lifts his head slowly.
“I want to relocate to Europe. Not for business. Not for marriage. Just for me.”
His face begins to harden again.
“I don’t want to remarry. I don’t want to be handed off to the next available man because my marriage to Zasha didn’t work. I don’t want to be pitied, or managed, or dressed up for another trade. I just want… time. Space. Distance. To breathe. To figure out who I am outside of this family and all its rules.”
His jaw tightens. “So, you want to run off and disappear?”
My heart thuds, but I hold his gaze. “No. I want to find myself. I have always been Thiago Delgado’s daughter. But for once, I want to be Xiomara. I want to discover who I really am.”
Before he can argue, my mother cuts in.
“She needs this,mi amor,”Mom says quietly, but with steel in her voice. “Not just to disappear. Not because she wants to run. But to heal.”
Dad turns to her, but she doesn’t flinch. Her hand is warm and steady on his.
“Let her go,” she says. “Not because you’re giving up on her. But because you trust and love her enough to have a normal life.”
“She was born into this life, and raised in it.” He mutters.
“But she hasn’t thrived in it.” My mother says with a sad smile. “I am able to remain in it because you ground me, and I will follow you to hell if it means I can be with you.”
The room goes silent again, and my father’s eyes flick between us.