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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Valentina

“As requested,” Alexandra drawls, tripping down the stairs. “Family dinner time with your daughter!”

My eyes snap to the stairs in search of Matilda’s dark curls. Every muscle in my body tenses, ready to run and scoop her into my arms.

I’ll fucking jump off this boat and swim us both to shore if I have to.

For a second, I think I’m hallucinating. Behind Alexandra stands a little girl, no older than Matilda, but her hair is long, straight, and blonde.

Her face is tear-streaked, and her nose drips down her chin, giving her a pitiful look. She’s clutching a little dirty teddy bear, picking at the loose threads with her fingers.

“Alessia, sit down,” Alexandra commands. When the girl makes no motion to move, Alexandra shoves her roughly in Enzo’s direction. “Sit with your daddy!”

I don’t even know this child, but my motherly instincts spring into defense mode. I push myself out of my chair, but one deadly look from Alexandra and I slowly lower myself back down.

“This… isn’t Matilda,” Enzo says carefully. I can see his brain moving a mile a minute, wondering where the hell Alexandra got this girl.

Kidnapped, probably. I’d put nothing past her.

“This is your daughter,” Alexandra explains, waving vaguely at the little girl. “Go sit with daddy, I said!”

The little girl scampers toward Enzo, pausing at the corner of the table, unsure of what to do. Enzo’s eyes fill with pity, and he gestures to the chair next to him.

“That looks like a good place to sit,” he whispers gently. The little girl eyes him suspiciously. “Best chair in the house, I heard.”

I watch her slip quietly into the chair and stare at the empty plate in front of her. She looks so hungry.

My heart breaks, and even though I’m still confused and terrified, I slowly rise out of my chair. Alexandra, once again perched on Enzo’s lap, watches with interest.

My movements are intentional, soft. I hold my hands up slightly in front of me, conveying that I’m not a threat as I make my way around the table to the girl.

Ever so slowly, I reach for the potatoes and scoop some onto her plate. Alexandra snorts with amusement, her eyes dancing.

“Maybe she can be our maid,” she goads, rubbing herself on Enzo’s chest like a cat marking its territory. Enzo grits his teeth but forces out a fake laugh, nodding along.

I ignore them, focused on feeding this starving child in front of me. Once her plate is full, I slowly back away, moving to my assigned seat again.

The door catches my eye—it’s so close, I could make it there in less than two seconds. It’s open, swinging slightly in the breeze.

I see nothing but pitch-black darkness outside.

Enzo meets my eyes, shaking his head slightly. I fall back into my seat with defeat. Where the hell is Matilda?

For a second, I think that Alexandra never got to Matilda, and this was all a setup. I stare at the tiny thing as she picks at her chicken, noting her bright green eyes and strawberry-blonde hair.

“Darling,” Enzo’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “I thought you were going to bring Matilda down here for family dinner. This isn’t Matilda.”

“I brought you your daughter like you asked,” Alexandra purrs from his arms. “Oops, I mean our daughter. I’m so happy you can finally meet her!”

“Our… daughter?” Enzo pales. He looks like he’s about to be sick, but I feel nothing.

I figured it out the second that little girl smiled at me after I served her food—those dimples, that crooked little smile, that’s all Enzo.

“Alessia!” Alexandra snaps, her voice mean and cold. “Say hello to your father.”

“Hi, Father,” Alessia whispers, not raising her eyes from the table.

“But… Alexandra,” Enzo stammers. His fingers grip her arms, turning her to face him directly. “How could this be? And you never told me?”

With Alexandra’s full attention on him, I take my chances. I know it’s stupid, I know they’re probably going to shoot me the second I step outside, but I can’t sit here playing games until she decides to shoot me.

I need to find my daughter.

I slip out of my seat and bolt, taking the stairs two at a time. I hear Alexandra’s angry voice behind me, yelling for me, but I don’t stop. I burst into the cold night air, looking around wildly.

“Hey…” one of the thugs she hired drawls, noticing me. I elbow him in the ribs, knocking the air from his lungs, and punch him in the throat. He goes down smoothly, and I land a hard kick in his groin.

“Matilda!” I call wildly, racing around the deck. My legs are shaky and my head is throbbing, but I don’t care.

Another one of the goons pops out from a different set of doors, and I duck into the shadows as he fires a shot at me.

“Mama!” I hear a tiny voice call from somewhere beyond him.

She’s here. My baby is here.

“Valentina!” Alexandra screeches as thick, strong arms wrap around my waist, hauling me back.

I kick and flail wildly as my body is thrown into the air by the guy I took down near the door. He outmaneuvers me, dragging me back to the dining room entrance and tossing me down the stairs.

I land in a twisted heap of limbs, but I’m okay—no broken bones, no head trauma.

Alexandra steps over my body, shaking her head angrily at me. She adds a kick to my ribs for good measure and finds her way back to Enzo.

I pull myself off the floor and limp back to my chair.

“See, Enzo? I told you we can’t trust her,” Alexandra whines. “She’s insane, unhinged. She tried to kill my security guard out there. How could you ever leave me for her?”

“I’m so sorry, my love,” Enzo apologizes. “But that’s in the past, isn’t it? Now it’s you and me, forever.”

Alexandra gazes at him adoringly, smiling like the Cheshire cat. When a security guard stomps down the stairs, she barely turns her head.

“Get the other girl,” she mutters to him, snapping her fingers.

The other girl. My girl.

I hold my breath, my eyes trained on the doorway, waiting for Matilda to emerge. Alexandra’s blabbing to Enzo about their love, the future, and all kinds of batshit-crazy nonsense, but I ignore her.

Finally, a set of tiny feet appear at the top of the stairs, and Matilda hesitantly descends.

“Mama!” she cries when she spots me, and I explode out of my seat to scoop her up into a hug. I hear Enzo breathe a sigh of relief, seeing that she’s relatively unharmed.

“Tie her up,” Alexandra commands to the thug hovering over us. “Both of them, sneaky little bitches.”

“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper into Matilda’s ear as I’m forcibly pulled away from her and tied to my chair.

Her eyes water, but she bites her lip and holds her head up high, refusing to cry. My brave girl.

“More wine!” Alexandra calls, her speech heavily slurred, to the guard’s retreating form. She stands up shakily and stumbles over to Matilda, leaning in close to inspect her.

I watch with hawk eyes, knowing I’ll kill this woman with my bare hands if she touches my child again.

“Too bad she’s half hers,” Alexandra muses, bringing the bottle to her lips for a big glug. “She has your eyes. But then, so does Alessia.”

She glares at her own daughter, and my heart drowns in empathy for the little girl whose own mother despises her. Suddenly, Alexandra’s demeanor changes, and she claps her hands happily, squealing with delight.

This can’t be good.

“Enzo! I have a wonderful idea!” she announces. “Let’s play a little game! I’ll let you choose which girl lives and which one dies.”

Enzo gasps, locking his eyes with mine. I hold his gaze. This is going to end badly.

“But every choice has consequences, doesn’t it?” Alexandra muses, pulling a gun out of the holster on her tight and spinning it wildly. “You choose the right girl, and you live. The wrong girl? Well, I guess it’ll be a double funeral tonight.”

My eyes are locked on the gun and the casual way Alexandra’s spinning it. This bitch is going to kill us all.

“Alexandra, please,” I plead, trying to appeal to her human side. “You’re a mother, you must understand how dangerous it is to play with a loaded gun like that. Please, for the sake of your child, put it down on the table.”

“Shut up,” she screams, not even looking at me. She’s staring madly at Matilda, grinning like a devil. Matilda holds her gaze, not shrinking back, just like I taught her.

“You must have some sense of decency and humanity,” I beg, watching her drunk, shaky movements with the gun. “Put it down, please.”

“You!” she growls, stumbling wildly over to me. “Talk, talk, talk. You talk too much! I said shut up!”

She’s got one hand curled around a wine bottle, the other by her side, clutching the gun. I can see the weight of both of these objects making her slower and weaker.

“The girls have done nothing to deserve this,” I cry, egging her on. I see Enzo slowly rising out of his chair, making a shushing movement to the girls to keep quiet.

Alexandra’s eyes are wild, her face flushed with fury. She sets the gun on the table and uses her free hand to slap me hard across the cheek.

Perfect. Do it again.

Before I can goad her into it, she spots Enzo’s movements out of the corner of her eye and grabs the gun again.

“What are you doing?” she shrieks, whirling to point the gun at him.

“Whoa, whoa, sweetie,” he says calmly, raising his palms up innocently. “I thought you might need some backup. I just came to help you.”

Some of her anger deflates, but her eyes are full of suspicion. I nod slightly at the gun, and Enzo blinks, letting me know he’s on the same page as me.

I have to make her put it down again. It’s our only chance. This might get me killed, but I take a deep breath and call her name.

“Enzo never loved you,” I say, smiling cruelly at her. “He told me horrible things about you. He said he just used you to get off when he needed to. He said?—”

“Shut the fuck up!” she screeches, dropping the bottle on the floor and slapping me with her free hand. The glass smashes, littering the ground.

Matilda chokes back a scream, and I hate that she’s here, seeing this all happen.

She dropped the wrong fucking item. Of course.

“Enzo! Pick a child!” Alexandra says. “I’m tired of this.”

“I can’t,” he says softly, and my heart breaks for him and the position she’s forced him into. Deep down, I know Enzo won’t ever be able to make a choice as horrific as what she’s proposing, but I also don’t see a way out of this.

“Pick one or I do it for you,” Alexandra grits through her teeth, aiming the gun straight at Matilda’s forehead.