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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

AURELIA

“ A drian.”

His name falls from my lips like a forbidden incantation, powerful enough to resurrect the dead. Reality fractures around the edges, the air suddenly too dense to draw breath. And a soft ringing starts in my ears as I stare at the ghost standing before me.

Adrian.

Adrian.

Adrian.

Alive.

My knees threaten to buckle but the determination to make sure he’s real keeps me standing. “Adrian?” I say again and he gives a simple nod.

Tears spring to my eyes, blurring his image as if my body is terrified that looking at him too clearly might make him disappear.

“How…” The rest of the question dies on my tongue.

He looks different yet achingly familiar. His presence fills the room like it always did—that quiet, controlled energy that seems to evaluate everything all at once. But there’s something new about him. Soft yet sharp at the same time.

“Cugina,” comes a voice from behind me, warm and tinged with an Italian accent I recognize.

I whirl around, my brain struggling to process too many impossible things at once. Lorenzo stands in the doorway, a gentle smile playing at his lips. His presence makes no sense—nothing makes sense. I grab the edge of a nearby leather chair to steady myself.

“I don’t understand,” I whisper.

I turn back to Adrian, unable to keep my eyes off him for more than a second. He watches me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. His gaze is so tender, so gentle that I want to break into a thousand pieces right here.

“Are… are you my new owner?” I ask, the word bitter on my tongue. What if he’s become corrupted just like Julian? It’s been over a month since I’ve seen him. Since his blood soaked my clothes…

I swallow a sob that tries to escape from the memory.

Adrian only chuckles. “No one could ever own you, Aurelia.” The way he says my name—like it’s something precious—makes my heart flutter and blossom with a new hope.

Lorenzo moves further into the room, speaking words that barely register through the roaring in my head. “Technically, we had to pay Julian to get you here, but this is my house and you aren’t a prize, you’re my guest, cugina. You are family. ”

Family?

The word floats past me, unprocessed. I can’t take my eyes off Adrian, can’t believe he’s standing here, breathing. Alive. Some distant part of my brain knows that I should be questioning this and demanding explanations, but all I can do right now is stare.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” I finally manage, the words scraping against my throat.

“Adrian Harrow is dead,” he says, his voice deeper than I remember. “I’m Dante.”

A laugh creeps up from deep inside —a sound bordering on hysteria. This is insane. All of it. The laughter quickly morphs into something else, something broken as the first sob tears from my chest. Then another. And another.

My body convulses with them, releasing weeks—no, months—of grief and rage and hopelessness. I press my hands against my mouth, trying to contain the sounds, but they spill out around my fingers like water through a broken dam.

Adrian—Dante—tenses and takes a step forward. But he quickly stops his advance when I back away. I don’t think I can be held right now. I just need to sob.

Lorenzo and Adrian stand nearby awkwardly while I turn away from both of them and try to get a handle on myself.

When I can finally see through my tears, I wipe my face with the back of my hands and try to study Adrian more carefully.

His hair is lighter now, a softer shade of brown than the near-black I remember.

His eyes seem darker, a more intense blue that reminds me of deep water.

And there’s a small scar cutting through his right eyebrow that wasn’t there before.

“Is that from her?” I ask, my voice still thick with stubborn tears. “Did your mother do that when she…”

Adrian—Dante—laughs, the sound rich and unfamiliar. He’s never laughed so freely around me before. Has he changed so much in a matter of weeks?

Julian has, so I guess it’s not unreasonable that Adrian has too. Especially after what he suffered.

“No.” He points toward Lorenzo. “That’s from that fucker’s right hook.”

It sounds like it’s an interesting story, but not one I care to hear right now. I press my lips together and remain silent.

Yes, something about him has fundamentally changed.

It’s not just the hair or the scar. There’s a quality to him that feels…

grown up. Not that he wasn’t mature and responsible before—God knows Adrian was always the responsible one, the serious one, the perfect Harrow heir.

But this is different. He carries himself with an assurance that feels deeper and more grounded.

His energy is steadier, more controlled than Julian’s volatile darkness that always threatens to consume everything around it.

I’m drawn to the new gravity around Adrian, wanting to step into its pull. But I hold myself back as I try to give my overloaded emotions time to settle and process the impossible reality that he’s standing alive before me.

“I need answers,” I finally demand, finding my voice. “All of it. Now. ”

The two men exchange glances. It’s Adrian who gestures toward the sitting area in the corner of the office, three leather chairs arranged around a small table.

“You should sit,” he says, not commanding but suggesting. Another change—Adrian always gave orders, never suggestions.

Once we’re seated, Lorenzo leans forward, his green eyes more earnest than I’ve ever seen them. It seems he’s been playing a deceptive game at Inferno Consortium gatherings and I completely misread him.

“Aurelia,” he begins, “I’ve been looking for you my entire adult life.”

I blink. Okay, not what I expected.

He smiles at my reaction and holds up a hand. “Please, give me a moment to tell you everything.”

I settle into my chair as he tells me a story that sounds like fiction. His mother—Arabella—was the twin sister of my mother, Serafina. They grew up in Rome together until my mother was trafficked by the Consortium.

“One day when I was ten,” Lorenzo continues, his eyes downcast with troubling memories, “my mother showed me a letter that Serafina managed to send before her death. It was a plea for help, telling Arabella about you. But the letter arrived too late, you see. She received word shortly after that her sister was already gone.”

He swallows hard, the muscles in his jaw working beneath his tanned skin.

“The Mancini’s knew they couldn’t simply take you in—you were born into the Consortium, and they lacked the power or influence to challenge Lucian Harrow.

” A shadow crosses his face. “My mother was devastated but held onto the letter and held onto hope. Before she died, she made me promise one thing: ‘Save my niece.’”

Lorenzo’s fingers tremble slightly as he runs them through his hair.

“When she passed, her final wish became my life’s mission.

I’ve carried that promise with me every day since, vowing to fulfill it no matter the cost. Since I first heard about you, it’s taken twenty-four years for me to gain enough wealth and respect for an invitation into your world, but…

” He spreads his hands, a sad smile playing at his lips. “Here I am, cugina.”

The word falls into place now. Cugina. Cousin. Lorenzo’s cousin.

Oh my God… I have a family.

“Then why the charade?” I ask. “The strip clubs, the Consortium events…”

“All to get close to you,” Lorenzo admits, not a trace of shame in his expression. “I needed access and for other members to trust me, especially Lucian. Once he died, I needed Julian to see me as a player.”

Adrian smirks at Lorenzo. “You didn’t tell her the best part.”

My eyes dance between them as Lorenzo shifts uncomfortably.

“Yes,” he starts, “Well… before the whole Lucian incident, I was struggling with how to get close to you. I had a longer plan in mind. Adrian would take over, and I would need to gain your trust so…” He clears his throat and looks down.

“I reached out to your friend’s family for an arranged marriage.

I figured what better way to get close to you than as your best friend’s husband. ”

I choke on my own spit and cough a few times. “Excuse me, what? You’re engaged to Eleanora ?” I don’t know what I’m more shocked at—Lorenzo going to such extremes or Eleanora never telling me.

Unless she doesn’t know?

Adrian must sense that I’m struggling to process the news, so he sits up straighter and attempts to shift focus. “Lorenzo and I met shortly after he joined the Consortium,” he explains. “We recognized in each other a common goal.”

“Which is?” I ask.

“Burning the Inferno Consortium to the ground.” The words fall from his lips with quiet finality.

I shake my head, unable to reconcile this man with the Adrian I knew. “You were your father’s minion. You never questioned anything.”

Something flickers behind his eyes—a darkness that quickly controlled. “I questioned everything, Aurelia. Always.” His voice drops lower. “But I learned early that survival in the Harrow household meant playing my role to perfection.”

“So you were planning this all along?”

“Not exactly.” He leans back, fingers steepled beneath his chin in that familiar, calculating way.

“Before, I was planning to take control and change things from within. Clean up the worst of it, redirect the power toward something less… destructive.” His expression hardens.

“Now I want it gone. Completely. My mother helped me understand that by shooting me.” The intensity in his gaze burns like blue fire.

“The Consortium corrupts everyone it touches. It turns good me n into monsters. It destroyed my mother. Now it’s trying to take Julian.

” A pause. “It nearly destroyed me. If I had taken leadership, who knows what I truly would’ve become. ”

The raw admission makes my breath catch. This vulnerability—so unlike the Adrian I knew—catches me off-guard. He’s never opened up so much, even though this is just barely scraping the surface.

Before I can respond, the office door bursts open and a small tornado of energy explodes into the room.

“Lolo! Lolo!” The young boy I’ve met a few times—Roby—races toward Lorenzo, then skids to a halt when he sees me. His eyes widen comically.

“Ciumachella!” he exclaims, pointing at me with unmistakable recognition.

Despite everything, a laugh bubbles up from my chest. “Hello again, little gentleman.”

He grins, revealing a missing front tooth that wasn’t gone when I last saw him. “You remember me!”

“Of course,” I say, surprised by the warmth spreading through me. “How could I forget?”

Roby beams, then turns to Lorenzo with rapid-fire Italian too quick for me to follow. Lorenzo laughs, ruffling the boy’s dark hair with obvious affection.

Lorenzo turns to me. “He says you’re beautiful. Like an angel.”

The simplicity of the child’s joy soothes some of my raw nerves. For a moment, I can almost forget the nightmare of the past weeks; I can almost believe in this strange new reality where Adrian lives and I have family and there might be a path forward from all this darkness .

But Adrian—Dante—rises from his chair, exchanging a meaningful look with Lorenzo.

“Perhaps you could take Roby to lunch?” he says. “Aurelia and I have much to discuss.”

Lorenzo nods, understanding passing between them. He stands and takes Roby’s hand. “Come, piccolo. Let’s leave these two to talk.”

“But I want to stay with ciumachella!” Roby protests, his lower lip jutting out in a pout.

“You’ll see her at dinner,” Lorenzo promises. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Not going anywhere. The words wrap around my heart as Lorenzo and Roby leave, the door closing behind them with a soft click that seems to seal me in this new reality.

I get to stay with my family.

With Adrian too?

Do I want that?

I turn to him, feeling the room shrink now that it’s just the two of us.

The silence stretches with unspoken words. Years of history coil around us like a living thing—memories of when he was my boyfriend, when he was out with other women, when I grew tired of being just a trophy and decided to break up with him.

“You’re wearing it,” he says finally, eyes dropping to my neck where his necklace rests beneath my dress neckline.

My hand flies to my throat, feeling the outline of the emeralds that are tucked below the fabric. “How did you?—”

“I saw you find it,” he admits. “In my room. Through the security feed. I still have the password to access the Harrow network. It’s proven quite useful.”

Heat floods my cheeks at the thought of him watching me this entire time—my rage and insanity. How I snooped through his stuff. “You were spying on me? Wait—” I remember when the bedroom door mysteriously opened. “Are you the one who opened my door that one day?”

He shakes his head. “I believe that was my mother. More of her mind games.”

Goddamn bitch.

“Sorry for the spying,” he continues. “But I needed to know you were safe.” His voice drops. “As safe as you could be in that hell hole.”

He moves toward me then, each step deliberate, until he stands close enough that I have to tilt my head to meet his gaze. His scent hits me: leather with a hint of vanilla. The same scent that clung to his pillows and gave me comfort through all the sleepless nights.

His fingers brush along my collarbone, finding the chain and drawing it out from beneath my dress. The emeralds catch the light, glittering.

“I’m happy you finally got my gift. I always regretted not giving it to you sooner.” His eyes lift to mine, filled with a tenderness that steals my breath. “We have so much to talk about, Aurelia.”

Suddenly it’s all too much—the betrayals, the violence, the grief, the shock of having family and of seeing the man I thought was dead. I collapse against him, more sobs needing to get out; my body shaking with the force of every jumbled emotion .

His arms encircle me, strong and steady, pulling me against the solid warmth of his chest. This also feels too different. Adrian rarely held me like this.

“I’m here,” he whispers into my hair. “I’m here now.”

I don’t know how, but he’s transformed into a different man in death and resurrection—more open, more available. The walls he always maintained have crumbled, revealing the man who might have existed beneath them all along.

It feels like my mother is watching over me, returning to me the one I thought I had lost forever. The one who might have cared for me in his own quiet way all along.

I’m still sorting through the tangled mess of my feelings, still trying to understand what this all means for us, for Julian, for the future. But for now, I let myself be held, finding a moment of peace in Adrian’s arms—the first real peace I’ve known in forever.

For now, it’s enough.