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I shake my head, a small smile forming despite myself. "That's the thing, Noah. I love the violin. That's the cruel paradox of it all." I reach for my case where it sits nearby, running my fingers along its familiar contours. "My father made it my cage, but inside that cage I found something that was truly mine."
Noah watches me, saying nothing as I continue.
"My violin was my captor when I was young, forcing me to bend to its will, demanding perfection. But over time, it becamethe only thing I could trust. The only constant." I meet his eyes directly. "I care about it the way I care about you."
His eyebrows raise slightly.
"You were my captor too, for a while. You took me against my will, kept me here, controlled my movements." I take a breath. "But somehow, in that captivity I found something I wasn't expecting."
"And what was that?" Noah asks, his voice barely audible.
"Freedom," I say. "When I play for you, when I'm with you—I'm making the choice. For the first time, I'm choosing my cage instead of having it forced upon me." I laugh softly. "That probably sounds insane."
"No," Noah says, reaching for my hand. "It makes perfect sense."
I study Noah's face, the way his eyes hold mine, unflinching yet somehow vulnerable after hearing my story. Something shifts between us in this moment—a balance tipping.
"Now it's your turn," I say softly. "I want to know about you too."
Noah's body stiffens immediately. The openness I glimpsed moments ago disappears behind a carefully constructed wall. His jaw clenches, shoulders squaring as if preparing for combat rather than conversation.
I stare at Evelyn, feeling the walls I've built around myself start to crack. Her story about her father, the practice room, thepsychological torture disguised as discipline—it hits too close. The way she found freedom inside her cage... fuck, I understand that more than she knows.
Her eyes are on me now, waiting. Expectant. I've never talked about my past. Not to anyone. Not even Matteo knows the full story.
"Noah?" Her voice is soft, patient. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
That's the thing—I do want to. For the first time in my life I want someone to know me. Really know me.
I take a deep breath, pain shooting through my chest where the bullet tore through. "My mother played violin too."
The words hang between us. I can't look at Evelyn as I continue.
"Every night after my father left she'd play for me. Lullabies, classical pieces—whatever made me smile." I close my eyes, remembering. "It was the only time our apartment felt like a home."
I shift on the couch, the pain medication is wearing off. "I was ten when my father shot her."
Evelyn's sharp intake of breath cuts through the silence.
"I woke up to the gunshot. Found her on the floor, violin shattered beside her." My voice doesn't even sound like my own. "My father just looked at me and said, 'You don't cry. You don't feel. You learn.'"
I finally look at Evelyn. Her eyes are wet but she doesn't interrupt.
"At fourteen he handed me a gun and made me kill a man. By eighteen, they called me Il Fantasma - The Phantom." I laugh, with more bitterness than humor..
Evelyn reaches for my hand. I let her take it.
"I never wanted anything outside of power and control. Never thought I deserved it." I squeeze her fingers. "Until I heard you play at Damiano's wedding."
"Why me?" she asks.
"Because you reminded me of something I thought was gone forever." I brush my thumb across her knuckles. "Something beautiful. Something worth protecting."
I've never been this fucking vulnerable in my life. It terrifies me more than any bullet.
"I'm not a good man, Evelyn. I've killed people. I'll kill again. The world I live in—our world now—it doesn't allow for weakness." I look directly into her eyes. "But with you I feel things I thought my father beat out of me years ago."
The confession hangs between us. I've never spoken these words to anyone. Never admitted that beneath the monster everyone fears there might still be something human left.