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Sienna got into a sleek sports car, and I immediately recognized the man holding the door for her. It was the same man who had helped us in Italy—the Asian man. He closed the door, then looked up and locked eyes with mine.

Summoning my courage, I descended the steps and stopped a few feet away from him. He stood motionless, his hands clasped behind his back.

It was the first time I truly got a good look at him. He was tall—not as imposing as the Ivanov brothers, but still muscular and athletic. His dark, narrow eyes were unreadable, and I couldn’t help but notice the scar that ran from his left cheekbone to his temple, narrowly missing his eye.

“I… I just wanted to properly thank you,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Especially for my son. If you hadn’t helped us…”

I trailed off as he took a step toward me before halting.

“You don’t owe your freedom to anyone but your sister,” he said in a deep, firm voice. “You can’t even begin to imagine what she’s done for you, what she’s survived to get you out of there. And yet, she still can’t let go of the guilt she’s carried for the past eight years…”

“You know?” I whispered, stunned by his words.

“I know everything about Sienna, and she knows everything about me. She and I are one and the same. And that guilt, which keeps growing with everything that’s happened, will end up consuming her. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

He stepped back just as my sister opened the car door.

“You’re quite talkative today, Kenji. What kind of grim story are you telling my poor sister?”

Kenji merely grunted before walking around to the driver’s seat, while my sister approached me with a questioning look.

But I said nothing. Instead, with tears in my eyes, I pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her as if I never wanted to let go.

“Thank you. Thank you, my sister, thank you. I love you, Sienna, and nothing will ever change that—not what happened, not what will happen. We’re still Amelia and Franco’s daughters, the same little girls who used to sleep in the same bed.”

I stepped back to look at her, seeing her own tears.

“Selina… you don’t know… you know nothing,” she murmured, shaking her head. But I stopped her, cupping her face between my hands.

“I don’t give a damn, Sienna. I don’t care what you’ve done. All that matters to me is that you’re alive—that you survived.”

She sniffled loudly and punched my shoulder, “don’t swear! It doesn’t suit you.”

“Idiot. Now go before all your makeup runs,” I said, giving her a playful shove, making her laugh as she climbed into the car.

The vehicle disappeared through the gates, and as my smile faded, Kenji’s words echoed in my mind.

I sighed, turned, and started back up the steps, only to stop as the gates reopened, allowing a black sedan to enter. An SUV pulled up in front of the entrance. I tried to make out the passengers, but it was impossible.

“Miss Selina?” Velma’s voice startled me.

“Who is it?” I asked as she stepped down, her expression harder than I had ever seen it.

“Trouble,” she muttered through gritted teeth as the car came to a halt at the stairs. A man stepped out and opened the back door, helping two women out in turn.

The first was a little younger than me, petite, with a lightly tanned complexion and long, curly brown hair. That bastard Antonio would have insulted her, called her fat, but she simply had fuller curves than the norm, and I found her stunning. Shewore a long black dress with three-quarter sleeves, perfectly fitted, paired with low heels—she was the very definition of elegance.

The second woman was much older, her white hair gathered into a low bun. She wore a pencil skirt that fell below her knees, a loose white blouse, and a black shawl so soft-looking I suddenly had the urge to bury my face in it.

“Madame Agata, we weren’t informed you would be coming,” Velma said, descending the steps to greet them.

“Do I need permission to visit my grandsons?” Madame Agata scoffed, ignoring Velma as she started up the stairs.

Grandsons?

She stopped in front of me, and I didn’t know how to react to this stranger who was clearly sizing me up with dark eyes that felt eerily familiar.

“So, you’re the Italian leech Nikolai brought in?”