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Chapter Nineteen

Francesca

W alking away from him after he told me he loved me was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

I don’t think a man like Dante Forzi is capable of that kind of love. Not the kind I deserve. How could someone capable of such cruelty possibly understand what it means to love someone wholly, gently, without condition?

I think he loves the idea of me. The woman his children adore, the woman who loves them back. He loves that I make his life easier. That I satisfy him sexually. At least, I think I did, judging by the noises he made and the complete one-eighty in his attachment style.

But that isn’t love.

A man like that can’t love. Not me. Not the way we started. Not with all the damage between us.

I shake my head, trying to clear the storm of thoughts as I wait for the doctor to renew my contraceptive shot.

We dropped the twins at school earlier, and I told Fulvio he could take the morning off.

Despite what Dante says, I know Fulvio resents being assigned as our shadow. Bruno, at least, makes me feel safe.

Safe-ish, and right now, that’s all I can ask for.

By the time I slip out through the back entrance of the hospital, Bruno is waiting by the car. He barely glances at me before asking, “What happened?”

I blink. “What do you mean?”

He shoots me a look that’s flat and unimpressed. The kind only someone who knows you too well can give.

“You’re too quiet. Don’t insult me.”

I hesitate, then exhale. “He told me he loved me.”

Bruno’s brows lift. “How dare he?”

I snort. “You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me.”

We slide into the car, but he doesn’t start it, waiting for me to continue.

“Men like him don’t love,” I say quietly. “They conquer. They control. But love? No. That’s not in their vocabulary.”

Bruno’s quiet for a moment, then he says, “I don’t know. I think it’s possible. Love in our world, it’s quieter. Hidden. It has to be. But I’ve seen it. I think… maybe you’ve only seen the ugliest parts.”

I hate that my heart reacts to his words. Hates that it stirs hope. “Not with Dante,” I insist. “Not with me.”

He looks over. Calm. Steady. “Tell me something. Do you really think he’s incapable of love… or just incapable of loving you ?”

The air whooshes out of my lungs. I stare at him, stunned.

“Are you a psychologist now?” I try to deflect, but my voice lacks heat.

He gives me a sideways smile. “I know you. Better than you think.”

I clear my throat. “Can we go to the mall? I have a list of things to buy for the twins.”

He watches me for a moment longer, like he’s debating whether to push further, then nods. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

We pull out of the parking lot in silence, but his earlier words sit too heavy in my chest to ignore. I should drop it. Let it go. But I can’t.

“I’m not saying I can’t be loved,” I murmur, staring out the window. “It’s just… we started wrong. He showed me a kind of cruelty that rivaled my father’s. And for a second, I saw my future. A version of me that looked too much like my mother.”

Bruno doesn’t speak. But I see the way his knuckles whiten around the steering wheel, the slow burn of rage building in his jaw .

“You’d never be her,” he says finally, low and sure. “I’d kill anyone who tried to make you.”

The words are quiet, yet they carry the weight of a promise. It makes something warm bloom in my chest even as I try to suppress it.

“You’d be killed,” I whisper, a small smile tugging at my lips despite everything.

He glances at me, his eyes unwavering. “It’d be worth it.”

“He sees me as a traitor, and I see him as a monster. What chance do we have?”

Part of me wishes, achingly, desperately, that he’d prove me wrong. That he’d do something to change my mind. But the part that’s been burned too many times keeps me tethered to reality.

Bruno takes the exit toward the mall, shrugging like it’s simple. “People’s perceptions change. I know you couldn’t stand me when we first met, and now? You’re pretty fond of me.”

I snort. He’s not wrong. Back then, I thought he was just another of my father’s lapdogs eager to impress, willing to step on girls like me to climb higher.

“It’s not the same,” I mutter.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re my brother.”

He turns so sharply to look at me that the car sways across the lane. A horn blares behind us, jolting us both.

“Jesus, Bruno!” I bark, grabbing the handle above the door.

“You know?” he asks, eyes darting to me .

I let out a slow sigh. “Of course I do.”

His brow furrows. “Dante told you?”

Now I’m the one frowning. “Dante knows?”

He exhales sharply, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “The man’s obsessive. He nearly tried to kill me just for being close to you.”

I hate the little thrill that flares in my stomach at that. I hate how much it still affects me, how much Dante still affects me.

“Since when did you know?”

I tilt my head slightly, thinking. “Three months after you arrived? Maybe less.”

He turns toward me, stunned. “You’ve known that long?”

“It wasn’t that hard to figure out. My father is psychotic, but he isn’t stupid.

The only reason he let you stay near me is because he knew you wouldn’t touch me.

Not like that. Something had to be stopping you, and it wasn’t loyalty.

” I glance over, and for once, his usual grin is gone.

“And the eyes. Our shade of green isn’t exactly common currency in this world. ”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” he asks, more hurt than I expected.

“Why didn’t you?”

Bruno parks the car and turns toward me fully, his expression serious. “It wasn’t safe,” he says quietly.

“And if I’m honest, there was a part of me that hoped you came here to kill him.”

That startles him. “What?”

“I wanted to. I was seventeen. Furious. I wanted to destroy him— to ruin his family, his wife, his children. I had nothing to lose. But then I met his daughter. Fourteen years old. My sister. And suddenly, my rage didn’t matter anymore.

You mattered.” He swallows. “My affection for you became more important than my need for revenge.”

Something twists in my chest, something that aches with all the things we both lost and the strange, quiet thing we found in each other.

“You mattered too,” I whisper.

And for a moment, we just sit there in silence, two half-siblings stitched together by blood and war and secrets no one else will ever fully understand.

After a beat, I murmur, “He’s going to die.”

I don’t say how or who will deal the blow.

Bruno doesn’t ask. He just nods. “I know. And he deserves to die… but not for what Forzi thinks.”

I glance at him sharply. “He threatened his children. He threatened me.”

Bruno’s jaw ticks. “Yes. And for that, he does deserve death. But the problem with the weapons? With the leak in Forzi’s supply chain? That’s not him. Not Don Salvatore either. They’re not smart enough. Not on their own.”

I glance sideways at him. “Then why don’t you tell Dante?”

Bruno exhales slowly, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “Because he won’t listen. He doesn’t trust me. But he trusts you ,” he adds, looking at me now, something quiet and certain in his voice.

I shake my head. “I don’t think he knows what he feels when it comes to me. ”

“He knows,” Bruno says softly. “He might not admit it. He might fight it with every breath. But he trusts you. With his home. With his secrets. With his children.” He pauses. “He listens to you even when he pretends not to.”

I look away, my heart tugging painfully in my chest.

“You think he doesn’t love you,” Bruno says, not unkindly. “But love looks different for men like us. It's quieter. Uglier. But sometimes… deeper too.”

“I don’t want deep,” I murmur. “I want safe. Constant. Real and permanent.”

“Nothing in life is permanent,” he says gently.

I laugh, but it’s broken. “I could love him, you know. I think I started to… before everything went wrong.”

I shake my head, cutting the thought off before it can bloom into something dangerous. “Ah, never mind.”

I push the door open and step out. He follows, silent.

How do I explain what doesn’t even make sense in my own head? That I can’t move on… not because of what he’s done, but because of what I feel. Because somewhere in this mess, I started to love him, and that terrifies me more than anything else.

How do I explain the truth? That I’m not afraid of falling. I’m afraid I already have.

If the monster ever comes back, I won’t be able to save myself. And I need to be protected because the monster always returns.

“So, what do we need?” Bruno asks, and I’m grateful for the shift to something safer—something that doesn’t claw at the inside of my chest.

“I need a few accessories for Lucia’s dance class. And basics for Alessio’s fencing lessons.”

Bruno snorts. “The boy’s starting fencing now?”

I can’t help but grin. “He’s a dedicated pirate. What can I say?”

He chuckles. “You love that boy.”

“With all my heart,” I say without hesitation.

And I mean it. The weight of everything else fades, if only for a moment, at the thought of Alessio’s wild energy and Lucia’s quiet smiles. They anchor me in a world I’m not sure I want to be a part of.

By the time we get back from the mall and pick up the kids from school, the sun is casting a golden hue over the villa’s stone facade. Bruno parks the car near the courtyard, and I stare out at the front door for a moment too long, dread curling in my stomach.

The bags in the trunk are full. Dance shoes and tights for Lucia, a fencing starter kit for Alessio, and a few things they didn’t need but would squeal over anyway.

As soon as we exit the car, Alessio starts bouncing.

“Can I try my kit?”

“Do you have homework?”

“No,” he replies quickly.

“Yes, we do. You are lying,” Lucia replies and gets the stinky eye from her brother.

I shake my head. “Nice try. Do your homework, and I’ll come help you try your kit later. We can go and chase your dad.”