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I step closer, anger and desperation curling in my chest like a storm ready to break. “Marco, please. Let me come home. We can live a different life—one that doesn’t involve-”

He moves before I can finish, rising to his feet in a single, sharp motion. He doesn’t even look at me. Instead, he pulls his phone from his pocket, transfers the pictures from mine, and drops my phone onto the chair like it means nothing.

LikeImean nothing.

Then, without a word, he turns and walks out of the room.

I stand there, frozen, the truth settling like ice in my veins. He was never going to let me go.

A shaky breath shudders out of me, and I grab my phone with numb fingers before walking out.

By the time I reach the car, tears are already spilling down my cheeks. The driver doesn’t ask a single question. He just opens the door, and I slide into the seat, curling into myself.

I cry the entire way back to the mansion.

When I step out of the car, I try to pull myself together. Swallow the sobs, wipe my eyes, steady my breath. But it’s useless. The pain is too raw, too heavy, pressing against my ribs like it’s trying to break me apart.

I know walking in like this will lead to questions, but I don’t care. Right now, I can’t bring myself to pretend.

As I step inside, I sniff, rubbing at my damp cheeks, and then I see him.

Nicolas is in the living room, his body tense, his sharp eyes locking onto mine the second I enter. The moment he takes in my face, he stands.

“Aria?” His voice is low, edged with something dangerous as he takes a step toward me.

I force myself to take a breath, to think. I could say I have a headache. I could blame it on cramps, exhaustion—anything. I could go upstairs, crawl under the covers, and hope this aching, hollow feeling disappears by morning.

But when I see the way his fists are clenched, his jaw tight like he’sreadyto destroy whoever did this to me, something inside me cracks.

My hands tremble as I press them to my chest. My voice comes out barely above whisper.

“I’m… hurting,” I admit, my breath shuddering. “I’m hurting inside.”

He doesn’t say a word. He just steps forward, pulls me into his arms, and holds me like he’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

“Who did this to you?”

22

NICOLAS

Aria cried for nearly an hour before finally settling into an exhausted silence.

During that time, I imagined a hundred ways to kill her brother. Each more brutal than the last. Each one more deserving of the pain he’s caused. But none of them feel like enough. I don’t know exactly what happened when she saw him, but I know this—she left to meet Marco and returned in tears. That’s all I need to know.

He’ll pay for this. One way or another.

The room is quiet except for the steady rhythm of her breathing. She’s curled up against me, her body small and fragile, her fingers gripping the fabric of my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.

I run my fingers through her hair, the soft strands slipping between them. Now that her sobs have stopped, I can finally think—strategize, plan, figure out how to fix what’s broken. But more than anything, I need to make her feel better.

I shift slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She lets out a small sigh, her fingers tightening for a moment before loosening again. I wait, letting the silence settle between us before I speak.

“I can make you feel better if you let me.” My voice is low and steady. “Do you trust me,Bambina?”

She lifts her head, blinking up at me. Her eyes are still red, but the raw, broken look has faded slightly. She swallows hard, then nods. “Yes.”

Relief spreads through my chest, but I keep my focus. “Trust isn’t something that stays still,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over her jaw and then tracing the curve of her lower lip. “It grows. It strengthens. Just like love.”