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The pieces of broken glass glitter, reflecting truths I've been too scared to face. About him. About us. About what love really means in this dark world we inhabit.
And suddenly, sitting here in this beautiful prison, watching the man I love prepare to destroy himself to save me, I realize I can't let him do this.
I won't.
Minutes pass with no word from anyone. No threatening calls from the Fioris. No word from my husband and his team. Just silence that weighs heavier by the minute.
I start pacing, running through old cons in my head, looking for anything that might help us now.
The sound of the door opening makes me freeze. Stefano stands in the doorway, his silhouette sharp against the hallway lights. Even exhausted, even hurting, he radiates that controlled power that drew me to him from the start.
"The exchange is set," he says without preamble. "Two hours. The club and half the southern routes for your brother."
The clinical way he describes giving up his empire makes my chest ache. "You can't."
"It's done." He steps into the room but maintains his distance. Always so careful now, where once he couldn't keep his hands off me. "The paperwork is being drawn up."
"The girls?—"
"Will be given severance packages. Enough to start over somewhere else." His voice is flat, emotionless. "I take care of my people, Ava. Even when I'm being forced to let them go."
The guilt threatens to choke me. Because this is my fault. All of it.
"There has to be another way." I step toward him, glass crunching under my feet. "Something we haven't thought of?—"
"The Fioris won't negotiate and if we attack them, I can’t guarantee your brother’s safety." Finally, a crack in his control, the frustration bleeding through. "They want territory. Power. A foothold in Chicago that buying the club legitimately would never give them."
"And you're just going to give it to them?"
"For Tony's life? For your safety?" His laugh is bitter. "In a heartbeat."
"I never asked for this." The words come out small, broken. "I never wanted you to destroy everything you've built."
"No." He moves closer, close enough that I can see the exhaustion on his face, the worry lines around his eyes. "You just wanted to run. To take my child and disappear. To decide all our fates without giving me a chance to protect you."
Each accusation lands hard. Because he's right. I did try to control everything. I did try to make all the choices myself. Just like I’ve accused him of doing.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, and mean it more than I've ever meant anything. "I was so focused on protecting everyone that I couldn't see you were trying to do the same thing."
Something shifts in his expression—surprise, maybe. Or hope. "And now?"
"Now..." I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. "Now I think it's time we started working together instead of against each other."
"It's too late for that." But he doesn't move away when I step closer. "The deal is made."
"Then unmake it." Another step. "You're Stefano fucking Rega. The man they call Monster. Since when do you let anyone dictate terms to you?"
"Since they took my wife's brother. Since they threatened my child."
I flinch, because he's right. This is my fault. All of it.
"There has to be another way," I try, but the words sound hollow even to me.
"There isn't." He turns to leave, then pauses in the doorway. "The exchange is at midnight. Try to get some rest before then."
I watch him go, unable to find words to stop him. Unable to fix what I've broken.
The silence returns, heavier than before, and I have to face the consequences of all my choices.