Page 156 of Brutal Crown

His throat bobs. “Doesn’t make it easier. Doesn’t fix what I abandoned.”

I pause, then lower my voice. “How did the Council even let you back in?”

His eyes flick up, sharp again. “They didn’t. Not really. I was supposed to stand trial. But you forced their hand the night of the Reckoning. You cracked the wall I needed to slip through.”

I nod slowly. That makes sense now. They didn’t accept him. I did.

“There were conditions,” he adds. “Surveillance and silence, so I’m not technically reinstated yet.”

“But you’re here,” I say.

He gives a short nod. “For now.”

I see something flicker behind his eyes again—regret, maybe. Or something even more dangerous.

“What about her?” I ask, keeping my tone low.

His grip tightens on the stem of his wine glass. “She’s still wearing his name. Still raising his son. Still pretending like I never existed.”

“And you?”

“Still pretending I don’t love her. It’s what’s best for everyone.”

My heart squeezes, but I place my hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure he’s happy wherever he is. That you’ve reunited with your family. I’m sure he wants you to move on, just like he would want his wife and kid to.”

Lorenzo takes a slow breath, letting my words settle in his chest.

“You’re right,” he murmurs.

The laughter starts getting louder. Lucia and Elio are arguing about something, and I can tell she’s already tipsy. Marco is sitting between the other Moretti siblings, deep in conversation.

I realize I haven’t seen someone, and I glance across the room until I find her.

Silvia.

She’s finished her meal and is standing beside the unlit fireplace, calm and unreadable as ever. She’s wearing a black dress, her sleeves laced at the cuffs, and for the first time, she’s let her hair pour down her shoulders in soft waves instead of the usual pin-up she always wears. Her eyes are sharp like glass, studying the table with an unreadable look. Antonio is standingclose behind her, as always, like a fucking watermark. Wherever she goes, he goes. It’s amusing.

A maid walks past them with a tray, and when she reaches for a glass of champagne, her fingers brush his.

They hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds before she pulls away.

I grin to myself, and that’s when her eyes meet mine.

I raise my eyebrow and raise my glass to her. She smiles at me and does the same.

Not all arranged destinies are set in stone.

And thank fucking god for that.

41

LIA

Idon’t know where Francesco is taking me.

We’ve been walking for about two minutes now,inthe estate, and we still haven’t gotten to wherever he’s taking me.

“Are you taking me to murder me or something?” I say jokingly. “Because this is how it usually starts in those dramatic family stories.”