Page 31

Chapter Thirty-One

Viviana

The soft hum of the train beneath me is a strange comfort, a rhythmic reminder that I’m moving forward, even if I have no idea where I’m headed.

Outside the window, the Italian countryside rushes past, golden fields and rolling hills blurred by speed. It’s a far cry from the chaos of Romeo’s estate, from the violence and fire that consumed my life mere hours ago.

I clutch the strap of my bag tightly, the weight of everything pressing down on me. My father’s lifeless face flashes in my mind, followed by the cold, detached look on Romeo’s as he chose to leave him behind.

My stomach churns, and I fight back tears, unwilling to cry again. I’ve cried enough.

The memory of the house’s destruction is burned into my mind—flames licking the sky, the acrid stench of smoke and death. I left it all behind: the fire, the violence, and Romeo. Especially Romeo.

I can’t do this anymore.

I’d said it, and I’d meant it. Now, sitting alone on this train, I’m not so sure I know what “this” is. The life I’ve been running from? The man I can’t seem to let go of? Or the person I’m becoming—someone I barely recognize anymore.

By the time I arrive at the small seaside town, the sun is beginning to set, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. It feels like a world away from Milan, away from Romeo’s shadow. I drag my suitcase along the cobbled streets, searching for the address scrawled on a piece of paper in my bag.

Francesca opens the door almost immediately after I knock, her expression shifting from confusion to concern in an instant. “Viviana?” she asks, her voice soft and familiar, like a balm on a wound I didn’t know I had. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed…somewhere to go,” I say, my voice trembling. “I’m sorry to drop in like this—”

“Don’t apologize,” she says quickly, stepping aside to let me in. “Come in. Please.”

Her home is small but cozy, the kind of place that feels lived in, with art supplies scattered across the dining table and half-finished sketches taped to the walls. It smells faintly of paint and fresh bread, and the normalcy of it all makes my chest ache.

Francesca disappears into the kitchen, returning moments later with a steaming cup of tea. “Sit,” she says, gesturing to the worn couch. “You look like you’ve been through hell.”

I let out a shaky laugh, more out of exhaustion than humor. “That’s one way to put it.”

She doesn’t push, doesn’t ask for details. She simply sits across from me, her hands folded in her lap, waiting. The silence between us is comforting.

Eventually, the words spill out, unfiltered and raw. I tell her everything—not about the Mafia, not about Salvatore or the violence, but about my father, about Romeo, about the crushing weight of it all.

“I thought he’d changed,” I admit, my voice cracking. “I thought maybe…maybe there was a chance for us. But he’ll never stop. The violence, the control—it’s who he is. And the life he can’t escape; it will consume us all whole.”

Francesca listens quietly, her expression thoughtful. “And you?” she asks gently. “Who are you in all of this?”

The question catches me off guard, and I blink at her, unsure how to respond. “I don’t know,” I say finally. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

She nods, as though she understands. “You’ve been through a lot, Viviana. Losing your father, leaving someone you cared about…it’s enough to make anyone feel lost. You’ll figure it out.”

Her words are kind, but they don’t ease the knot in my chest. I nod anyway, clutching the mug of tea like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded.

Francesca leans forward, her elbows resting on her knees, her eyes searching mine. She doesn’t push, but her silence feels like an invitation, a gentle nudge to say more. I glance down at the mug in my hands, the warmth seeping into my fingers a small comfort against the storm swirling in my chest.

“I feel…stuck,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “Like no matter what I do, I can’t escape him. Romeo. He’s everywhere, Francesca. In my head, in my heart…even now, after everything.”

Her expression softens, and she reaches out, resting her hand lightly on my knee. “You loved him,” she says gently. “It’s not something you can turn off just because you want to.”

“Did I, though?” I ask, my voice cracking. “Or was I just…caught up in the madness of it all? He has this way of making you feel like you’re the only thing that matters. Like he’d burn the world down for you.” My throat tightens, and I force the next words out. “He also makes you feel trapped. Like you can’t breathe without him.”

Francesca’s lips press into a thin line, her brow furrowing. “That’s not love, Viviana. That’s control. It’s no wonder you’re struggling after everything you’ve been through with him.”

I nod, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. “I thought I could handle it,” I say, my voice trembling. “I thought if I stayed, maybe I could…I don’t know, soften him. Change him.”

“Now?” she asks softly.

“I don’t know,” I admit, my tears finally spilling over. “He let my father die, Francesca. He didn’t even try to save him. How do I come back from that? How do I forgive that?”

She doesn’t answer right away, her hand still resting gently on my knee. “It’s not just about forgiveness,” she says after a long pause. “It’s about deciding what kind of life you want for yourself. Do you want to keep fighting this battle, or do you want peace?”

The word peace feels like a foreign concept, something I haven’t allowed myself to hope for in so long. “I don’t even know what peace looks like anymore,” I whisper. “All I see is him. I hate that I still…that I still care.”

Francesca’s eyes soften further, her grip on my knee tightening slightly. “It’s okay to care, Viviana,” she says quietly. “Caring doesn’t mean you have to go back. Sometimes, the best thing you can do for someone—and for yourself—is let go.”

Her words settle heavily in my chest, and I nod again, though the ache inside me only deepens. Letting go. It sounds so simple, but the thought of cutting Romeo out of my life feels like carving out a piece of myself.

“I just…I wish things were different,” I say, my voice breaking. “I wish he was different.”

Francesca gives me a sad smile. “Wishing won’t change him. Only he can do that. If he doesn’t…then you have to choose yourself, Viviana. For your sake.”

I clutch the mug tighter, her words resonating even as my heart resists them. Somewhere deep down, I know she’s right. Knowing it doesn’t make it any easier.

Choose yourself. For your sake. For your child’s.

I press a hand to my stomach, my heart aching as I think about the life growing inside me. The baby isn’t just mine; it’s his too. That realization feels like a tether I can’t break, no matter how much I want to.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice gentle but concerned.

I look up at her, my throat tightening. Francesca has been my friend for years. If there’s anyone I can trust, it’s her.

“I need to tell you something,” I say softly, my fingers curling against the fabric of the couch.

Her brow furrows as she sets the cups down and sits beside me. “What is it?”

I take a deep breath, the words catching in my throat. “I’m pregnant,” I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Francesca’s eyes widen, her lips parting in shock. “Viviana…” she breathes, her hand instinctively reaching out to touch my arm. “You are?”

I nod, my heart racing. “About three months now. I just…I didn’t know how to say it. To anyone.”

She leans back slightly, her expression softening as she processes the news. “The father…it’s Romeo?”

“Who else?” I say with a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “It’s his.”

Francesca studies me for a moment before speaking. “That’s why you’re struggling so much, isn’t it? It’s not just about you anymore. It’s about the baby.”

I nod again, tears welling in my eyes. “How can I raise a child in his world, Francesca? How can I bring a baby into a life filled with violence and danger? I want to run, to keep us safe, but no matter where I go, it feels like I can’t escape him.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her gaze thoughtful. “Have you considered suggesting you and the baby go into hiding so that you can both be safe?”

I shake my head quickly. “No. He sees the baby as another reason to keep me trapped, another excuse to control me. And after everything that’s happened…” My voice trails off, the memory of my father’s lifeless body flashing in my mind.

Francesca places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You’re right to want to protect yourself and your baby. It’s going to be hard all alone, though, Viviana.”

I nod, because she’s right.

“You doing okay?” she asks.

I force a smile, nodding. “Yeah. Just…thinking.”

“You look exhausted,” she says, gesturing for me to follow her. I drift after her aimlessly, not even caring where we go.

She leads me to the guest bedroom and I plop down on the soft comforter with a sigh. I don’t even know what to feel anymore. I mostly feel numb.

She steps into the hall, then comes back holding a folded blanket. “You might need this,” she says, setting it on the bed. “Viviana…if you ever need to talk, you know I’m here, right? You can always come to me.”

“I know,” I say softly, my chest tightening with gratitude. “Thank you.”

She smiles and leaves, closing the door behind her. I lie down, wrapping the blanket around me, but sleep doesn’t come easily. My thoughts are too loud, my fears too vivid.

***

The next morning, I wake to the sound of my phone buzzing on the nightstand. My heart sinks as I see the blocked number on the screen. Dread coils in my stomach, but I answer it anyway, pressing the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I say cautiously.

“Viviana Rossi,” a rough voice says, the sound sending a chill down my spine. “We have a message for you.”

My breath catches. “Who is this?”

“You know exactly who we are,” the man replies, his tone cold. “You thought you killed me, but you didn’t, and I know about your little secret.”

My blood runs cold, my hand instinctively moving to my stomach. “What do you want?” I whisper to Salvatore.

How can he be alive? I watched Romeo kill him with a knife.

“It’s simple,” the voice says. “Come to me. Alone. No Romeo, no guards, no tricks. Your father said I could have you, and I will. I’ll tolerate the baby until you can give me an heir. Then we can send it back to him, and he can do whatever he wants with it.”

Terror grips me, my heart pounding. I stare at the phone, my hands shaking, my mind racing with panic. They know. Somehow, they know. Now, they’re coming for me—and for my child.

“I’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth. Maybe kill your sweet friend who you’re staying with right now. Don’t test me, Vivianna.”

The call disconnects abruptly.

I clutch my stomach, tears streaming down my face. No matter how far I run, Romeo’s world keeps pulling me back in.

My hand shakes as I lower the phone, the weight of the threat pressing down on me like a lead blanket. My breathing is shallow, and I press my other hand to my stomach, as if I can shield my baby from the words that still echo in my mind.

“Your baby won’t live long enough to be born.”

The room feels too small, the walls closing in. I stumble to the window, throwing it open to let in the cool morning air, but it does nothing to calm the storm raging inside me. How did they know? How could they possibly know about the baby?

I’ve told no one except Romeo and Francesca, and she’d never betray me.

Francesca. My chest tightens, and I turn toward the door. She’s in the other room, oblivious to the danger that’s just crept into her peaceful little world. If I stay here, I’ll be putting her in harm’s way, just like everyone else who’s come near me.

I wipe my tears, forcing myself to think clearly. I don’t have time to fall apart.

I have to protect my baby, no matter what. Even if it means walking back into Romeo’s world. Even if it means facing him again.