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“Why?”

Looking back at Henry, I swallowed thickly. It would be too hard. I could never walk away if I spoke to him. If he showed me the sweetness he inherited from his father, I would never leave New York.

“It would be too hard. Even from here, I can see so much of his father.”

“Did you love him?” he asked.

“Very much. If for no other reason, he gave me Henry. But Sal was amazing. So loving and funny. And so strong. He made me feel safe.”

“But you didn’t trust him to keep you safe?” His question was quiet. Not accusing, but more... wondering.

Still, I glared at the oversized Russian sitting next to me. “I trusted him with the most precious thing in my life. My son.” How dare he question my relationship with Sal. “I won’t be back again. I just want to sit here and watch my son enjoy life.” Something he would never have had with me, I added silently.

Maxim Fedorov stood from the bench we shared and turned back to look at me. I refused to give him any more attention that was reserved for Henry.

Without a word, he walked away to join his wife. I sat there watching Henry as my tears slipped silently down my face. My solitude was once again disrupted when Illyria sat down beside me.

We sat in silence for what felt like hours. I refused to speak to her. Illyria Valentinetti was not what the media portrayed herto be. An Italian Mafia princess, mistaken to be a vapid socialite, only interested in a superficial lifestyle.

No, she was so much more than that. She was someone to look up to. We might have been close in age, but she had lived a lifetime more than my sheltered existence.

If I was honest, I would admit she scared the hell out of me. The things she endured to keep her son safe. But she never left him. I wasn’t as strong as her. I knew that. I accepted that.

“My brother said you were a stripper in Vegas.”

The laugh slipped out so easily and my fingers covered my mouth. It didn’t surprise me Sal had come up with something ridiculous like that.

“You don’t look like a stripper. But with that hair alone, you would have been popular. Sal always did have a thing for redheads.” Her words might have sounded carefree, sympathetic even. But her tone was caustic. She made it clear she didn’t think I was good enough for her brother.

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. The words were stuck in my throat, keeping the bile that rose from my center from escaping all over her Louboutin shoes.

I was as much in awe of her as I was terrified.

“You can’t have him.”

“I know,” I said quietly.

“You don’t want him?”

I spun on her then. My eyes narrowed on the woman raising my son. Anger quickly replaced my fear. “How fucking dare you!” I snarled. “Of course I want him. I wanted him the minute I knew he existed. I love him more than I love myself.”

Closing my eyes, I turned back to Henry. I wouldn’t let her view of what I’d done affect my last few moments with Henry. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I leaned forward.

“All I wanted was to see him one last time,” I rasped. “Please, just let me have these last few minutes with him. Then I’ll go and you’ll never see me again.”

There was no stopping the tears. I understood their concerns, but I didn’t want to disrupt his life.

“Tell me why,” she demanded.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

Now she laughed. But it wasn’t in mirth. It was sardonic. Angry. It wouldn’t surprise me if she hated me on principle alone. But she didn’t know me.

“I wouldn’t understand? Really, Miss Kelley? I am probably the only person alive who would understand.”

I shook my head. “I’m not like you.”

“That’s obvious. I didn’t walk away from my son. I protected him.”