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"Well, to be honest, the Castellanos are finished unless we join forces with you," Antonio acknowledges, accepting the drink. "Our father was already desperate enough to trade his daughter. And we're all that's left now."

"No," Dante counters, his gaze holding mine. "The Castellanos will endure, but under Ravelli protection. Your father's territories won't be lost. They're yours now.Oursto control together."

The promise settles between us, weightier than any formal contract could be.

"Together," Antonio repeats, testing the word.

"As family," Dante confirms. "As allies bound by blood and oath."

Antonio considers this, swirling the alcohol in his glass. "And when you move against Luca? Against the Volkovs? When you're King of the Ravelli Empire?"

"You'll be at our side," Dante replies without hesitation. "If that's your choice."

My brother's gaze shifts between us, consideration visible in his expression. Finally, he nods once, a sharp, decisive gesture.

"For the Castellano name. For father's legacy." His eyes find mine. "But mostly… for my sister."

Later, as moonlight streams through our bedroom windows, Dante holds me close, his touch grounding me against the grief.

I haven't cried. Not yet. The tears remain locked behind walls of shock and duty.

"You're allowed to miss him," Dante's voice rumbles beside me. "The father you wanted him to be. The one who failed you."

I lean into his touch, grateful he understands this twisted grief.

"I hated him," I whisper. "I still hate him. But..."

"But he was still your father." Dante's thumb strokes my spine. "Trust me, I understand complicated paternal relationships."

A bitter laugh escapes me. "Is it wrong that part of me wishes I'd killed him myself? At least then this hollow feeling would make sense."

"I'm sorry," he whispers against my hair.

"For what?"

"For not protecting him better. For not anticipating the Volkovs would target him."

I shake my head against his chest. "You can't protect everyone, Dante. Not even you."

His arms tighten around me, careful of his healing shoulder. "I can protect what matters most. You. Antonio. What we're building together."

I lift my head to study his face in the moonlight.

"Remind me. What are we building, exactly?" I ask softly.

His hand cups my face, thumb tracing my lower lip.

"An empire, of course. But more than that." His gaze holds mine, intensity burning in those gray depths. "A legacy greater than anything my father or yours could have imagined."

His other hand slides to rest over my stomach, the touch reverent, almost tentative. "Something that will endure long after we're gone."

The direct movement send a shiver through me. "You've changed your mind about children?"

"I've changed my mind about many things since you came into my life," he admits. "We control nearly all western Europe now. Luca has only the UK. We have the power I've sought for so long."

I cover his hand with mine where it rests against my abdomen. "But?"

"But the throne means nothing if you don't sit beside me." His voice drops, rough with emotion he once would have suppressed. "Nothing matters without you, Francesca. Not power, not territory, not revenge."