Page 22

I shoulder past him, my head high, pulse roaring in my ears.

But his hand shoots out and grips my arm. “I want Bruno back.”

I shrug him off. “That’s not up to me.”

“The judge said if Bruno requests it, he can come home.”

I turn slowly to face him. “Then maybe you should ask him again.” I tilt my head. “Oh, right. You did. And he said no… didn’t he?”

His face flushes red, his jaw twitching. “You’re useless. ”

I smile without warmth. “I’m the product of my upbringing, Father.”

He steps forward, sneering. “You care about children who aren’t even yours, and you ignore your own blood. You’re not loyal. You’re not righteous. You’re just a bitter, angry woman grasping for revenge.”

“Yes, I’m angry,” I say, keeping my voice steady.

“And when I say that, I don’t mean petty rage.

I mean grief. I mourn the child I never got to be.

I mourn the woman I could have become if I hadn’t been shaped by you and the men like you.

No one comes into this world hoping for this.

Hoping to survive by becoming silent. Obedient. Hollow.”

I step forward now, watching him flinch like he might strike me. I don't care.

“I would bleed myself dry if it meant sparing Lucia even a fraction of what I endured. If I can keep her a child just a little longer. If I can preserve something soft and sweet in this world of rot.”

I see him pale.

“So be careful, Father. You thought I was harmless because I had nothing to lose. But now I do. And if I fall,”—I lean in, my voice like a blade—“I will take you all with me.”

By the time I walk back into the main hall, my hands are still trembling. I’ve wiped them three times on my skirt, but it doesn’t help. The air feels thicker now, or maybe that’s just me struggling to breathe beneath the weight of what was just said.

Lucia runs up to me. “Cece! I saw a dragon.”

I crouch down, brushing a curl from her face as I give her her food. “A dragon? Where?”

She turns and points across the room at a tall, glaring man in an ill-fitting suit. “That one. He looked like he wanted to eat everyone.”

I smile faintly and tuck the napkin she’s holding more securely. “Good eye, princess. That’s why you’re on guard tonight.”

She yawns dramatically, and I grab her forgotten snack and put it on a table. Her small arms wrap around my neck as I lift her up. Alessio trudges over, too, his energy finally fizzling out.

I glance toward the entrance, and there he is.

Dante walks back into the room, his eyes scanning until they land on me. He strides over slowly, calm and controlled.

“I’ll take them upstairs,” I say before he even reaches us.

He stops in front of me, gaze flicking to the twins, then back to me. “Come back down when they’re asleep.”

“No,” I reply simply.

He looks like he wants to argue. His jaw flexes, and his nostrils flare. But after a beat, he just nods.

I don’t wait for anything more. I carry Lucia in one arm, take Alessio’s hand with the other, and climb the stairs without looking back.

Upstairs, the sound of the party dims to a muffled thrum, fading behind the thick doors and quiet hallways. The energy of the evening drains from the twins as we move. Lucia rests her head on my shoulder, already half-asleep, her tiny fingers curled in the fabric of my blouse.

“Go get ready for bed,” I murmur to Alessio as I pass by his room. “I’ll be right there.”

Lucia doesn’t stir when I lay her on her bed. I gently change her from her dress into her pajamas, careful not to wake her. She mumbles something about dragons and cookies, lips barely moving, eyes still closed. I tuck the covers up to her chin and kiss her forehead.

“I love you, princess,” I whisper, brushing a stray curl from her cheek.

Then I move to Alessio’s room. He’s already curled under his blanket, eyes wide in the dim glow of the nightlight.

“Too tight?” I ask, tucking him in.

He yawns, then shakes his head. “Just right.”

I crouch beside him, brushing his messy hair back from his forehead. He looks up at me with those too-wise eyes, his voice barely a breath.

“Cece?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Are you gonna stay with us forever?”

The question lodges in my chest like a splinter. For a moment, I can’t answer.

He tugs at my sleeve, gentle but insistent, needing the kind of reassurance I’m not sure I can give.

“I’ll stay as long as I can,” I say softly, stroking his cheek with my knuckles. “And even if I’m not right here, I’ll still be loving you, okay?”

He frowns like he’s thinking hard. “But Papa likes you. So maybe forever’s not that long.”

I smile, even though it aches. “We’ll see.”

That seems to satisfy him. He nods once, eyes already slipping shut as he turns onto his side and pulls the blanket tighter around him.

I stay there a moment longer, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. Then I lean in and press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Goodnight, little pirate,” I whisper.

I step into the hallway, letting the door click softly behind me. For a moment, I just stand there, my fingers still on the handle, trying to steady my breath. My chest feels a little lighter… and a little heavier all at once.

The light in the corridor is dim, golden and warm, and I spot Bruno leaning against the wall by the guest room door. Arms crossed, posture casual, but his eyes are sharp, watching me.

“You okay?” he asks gently, straightening.

I nod slowly. “They’re asleep. Lucia was out the second her head hit the pillow. Alessio asked me if I’d stay forever.”

Bruno’s expression softens. “And what did you say?”

“I told him I’d stay as long as I could.” My voice cracks, but only a little. “It was the closest I could get to the truth without breaking his heart.”

He doesn’t speak right away, just studies me for a beat.

“You’ve done more for them in a few months than most people do in a lifetime,” he says finally. “Whatever happens next… they’ll carry that with them.”

I don’t answer. I can’t. So instead, I lean back against the wall beside him, letting the silence settle.

And for just a moment, I let myself breathe.

“My father is going to be a problem.”

“I know.”

“I need to tell Dante. ”

“I know that too.”

I glance up at him. “Do you think I’m a traitor?”

He lets out a quiet, dry laugh. “You’re the most loyal person I know.”

I exhale slowly and rest my head against his arm. “No, you are. You came here… for me.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, but I feel the way his muscles shift slightly, like the words matter more than he expected.

Eventually, I pull away with a tired sigh. “Goodnight, Bruno.”

He nods. “I’ll be here.”

I retreat into my room, take a shower, and change into my pajamas, keeping the door open a crack as the sounds of the party fade into nothing. I should close my door. I should retreat and hide and wait for tomorrow like I always do.

But I don’t.

I hear him before I see him. Heavy footfalls in the hall, slower than usual, as if he’s hesitating too.

“Dante,” I say quietly.

He pauses, then pushes the door open with caution, stepping inside like he’s unsure of the welcome.

I sit on the edge of the bed, my spine straight. “I need to tell you something.”

He closes the door behind him. “Go on.”

“My father…” I swallow, forcing myself to keep steady. “He’s not done. He’s planning something. I don’t have the full picture yet, but I know enough to say he’s a threat.”

Dante nods, his expression unreadable. “I figured.”

“That’s all I have for now. ”

A pause. Then, softly, “You’re wrong, you know.”

I blink. “No. I’m not. He wants to hurt you. He?—”

“I know that,” he cuts in. “That’s not what I meant.”

I frown. “Then what?”

His eyes meet mine, steady and sharp. “You said you had no rights. That if something happened to me, the twins would be taken from you.”

I nod, confused.

“You’re wrong,” he says again, quieter this time. “If anything happens to me… you’re their legal guardian. I had the papers drawn up weeks ago. They’re yours.”

I freeze, and my breath stalls in my chest. I can barely move, barely think. He heard. He listened to everything.

The conversation in the pantry. The plan. The fear. My threat.

My love.

My voice is barely a whisper. “You… you were listening.”

He nods, unapologetic.

And I don’t know if I want to scream or cry, but I do know this: For the first time since that wedding night, I don’t feel powerless.

I feel seen.

My chest is tight, but I manage to breathe. “Why would you do that?”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. “Because you already are their mother in every way that matters.”

Silence falls again, thicker this time, full of the things we never say.

I stare at him, at this man who once spit in my face and now stands in my room, offering me pieces of his soul in the quietest, cruelest way possible: with truth.

“You don’t get to give me that,” I whisper. “Not after everything.”

“I know,” he says.

And for once, he doesn’t try to justify it. Doesn’t demand forgiveness or pretend the past hasn’t carved itself into my skin.

He just stands there. And I sit, trembling beneath the weight of what his words mean.

They’re mine. Lucia. Alessio.

If he dies… they’re mine.

“I won’t let it come to that,” I say finally, steadying my voice. “I’ll protect them.”

He nods once. “I know you will.”

Then he turns to leave, the door creaking softly as he opens it.

But before he steps out, he glances back at me. Just once.

“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly I almost don’t hear it.

Then he’s gone.

And I’m left sitting in the silence, staring at the crack of light spilling through the door he left open.

My heart is breaking and healing at the same time.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but tonight, for the first time in weeks, I don’t feel entirely alone.