Page 16

I nod, adjusting Lucia’s sweater over my shoulder. But when he starts to follow me into the back seat, Fulvio, Dante’s guard, steps in, expression unreadable.

“You sit in the front. Boss wants me in the back. With the family.”

Bruno frowns.

Alessio tenses beside me, puffing up just a little, like a tiny knight ready to defend his princess and his mermaid.

I smile at Bruno, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s fine. Go on.”

He hesitates, but then he catches the quick look I throw toward the kids. A silent plea not to escalate this in front of them.

He sighs but nods, stepping around the car.

I settle into the back seat between Lucia and Alessio, wrapping one arm around each of them as the engine hums to life.

One moment of peace at a time. That’s all I can manage. And for now, it’s enough.

We arrive at the seamstress. A small, elegant shop nestled in the back corner of a luxury shopping street, the kind of place that doesn’t need to advertise. They already know your name when you walk in.

I shouldn’t be surprised. Of course Dante would pick a school where even the uniforms are tailored like haute couture. God forbid Lucia wear a skirt that doesn't match her stride or Alessio a shirt with a crease out of place.

As the children are ushered toward mirrored platforms with polite efficiency, I take a seat on the velvet bench. Bruno settles beside me, close enough for comfort but not too close for suspicion.

He leans in slightly, his voice quiet. “How are you really? Honestly?”

I hesitate, watching Lucia tug at the hem of her blouse while Alessio grumbles about ties.

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “Not as bad as I thought I’d be.”

A lie, maybe. Or maybe just a fragile, fractured truth.

Bruno follows my gaze and then says quietly, “He seems… attached.”

I snort under my breath and shake my head. “Don’t mistake possession for care.”

The seamstress hovers nearby, pinning up Lucia’s skirt. I lean forward. “Can you make it just below the knees? She doesn’t like it too short.”

Lucia beams at me in the mirror. I wink at her.

My heart aches.

Then, very softly, I lean closer to Bruno, my voice barely audible. “I need contraception.”

He stiffens just slightly.

“Dante is not… careful,” I whisper, my cheeks burning. “And I don’t want a mistake.”

His jaw tightens. But he doesn’t speak. Just nods once, pulls out his phone, and steps away.

A few minutes pass, and then he’s back, handing me the phone. “Her name is Dr. Alison Greaves. She’s expecting you.”

I press it to my ear, heart thudding.

“Francesca?” comes a warm, competent voice. “My name is Alison. I’m a physician at St. Bernido’s. Bruno filled me in briefly. I understand you're in a difficult position, and I want to help. Is it alright if I ask you a few questions?”

“Yes,” I murmur, feeling Fulvio’s eyes on me from across the shop.

“Are you currently on any form of contraception?”

“No,” I whisper.

“Do you have any allergies to hormone-based medication? Any clotting disorders, migraines with aura, or previous complications with birth control?”

I keep my answers short. Vague. I give her enough to work with, nothing more.

She’s quiet for a moment. “Given the context and urgency, I can arrange a discreet appointment for a long-acting contraceptive injection. It’s safe, effective, and will protect you for three months at a time.

You’ll need a brief checkup first, but Bruno has already spoken to the right people. We can keep it entirely off record.”

I exhale slowly, the air heavy in my lungs.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“We’ll take care of you,” she says gently. “Bruno will handle the details. I’ll text him the address.”

I hand the phone back, and Bruno pockets it with a soft nod, not saying a word. But the look in his eyes tells me everything. He understands.

I glance over at Fulvio, who is still watching. Always watching.

But right now, I don’t care.

Lucia is smiling. Alessio is inspecting himself like he’s about to go to battle. And for a single breath in this mess of a life, I feel like I have control over something again.

Even if it’s just my own body .

The fittings end in a blur of fabric and pins, Lucia twirling like a princess, Alessio puffing his chest with the pride of a knight. I smile, I nod, and I adjust ties and smooth skirts. I play the part.

Bruno stays close but quiet. Fulvio hovers, too, his presence a constant reminder that I’m watched, leashed, and owned.

As we exit the shop, I catch a glimpse of myself in the polished glass door. Just for a second.

I see a woman with soft curls pinned neatly, a blouse tucked crisply into a skirt. A nanny. A maid. A wife in name only.

And beneath that? A girl trying to survive a world that chews women up and calls it tradition.

“Cece,” Lucia pipes up, tugging on my hand, “do you think pirates wear ties like Alessio?”

I smile. “Only the fancy ones.”

She giggles, and Alessio rolls his eyes. The driver pulls up, and I shepherd them in, ignoring the sting in my lower body and the burn in my chest.

One moment at a time.

I glance at Bruno as he shuts the door behind me, mouthing a soft thank you.

He nods. Nothing more. But it’s enough.

I hold the children close on the ride back. I hum softly when Lucia dozes against my arm. I trace circles on Alessio’s back until he leans into me.

And when we pull through the estate gates, I square my shoulders.

I’m not strong. I’m not fearless.

But I am still here. And for now… that will have to be enough.