Page 500 of Rosetti Family New York

I lean forward, my pulse hammering as I study the screen.

The footage shows a parking garage, three men approaching a car in grayscale security feed quality. Then Luca appears in frame, moving like a dancer. What follows isn't the explosive violence I expected, but something far more unsettling—a masterclass in psychological warfare.

No guns, no blood, at least not at first. Just strategic pressure points and words I can't hear but can see the devastating effect of. Within minutes, all three men are on their knees, and one is actually crying. In the video, Luca is laughing manically as he slices one man's neck, and I can hear my own breathing, smell the lingering coffee in the air, feel the tension radiating from Luca as he watches me watch his work. I want to inchaway from him, but I hold my ground. Violence, I am learning to understand, but his vibe is far wilder than that. He seems to enjoy it.

"This is definitely not what people mean by 'home movies,'" I hear myself say, that inappropriate cheerfulness creeping in when I'm processing something disturbing.

Van taught me to recognize the difference between control that diminishes and control that empowers. Standing here in the life my family made possible for him, watching Luca's careful demonstrations of power, I'm beginning to understand which kind of control they actually represent.

"You know," Luca says, watching my face carefully, "you're not reacting the way most people do to my photo albums."

"I'm not most people." The words come out steadier than I expected. "I'm a Rosetti."

And suddenly, I understand something fundamental about myself. All those months with Van, learning about submission and control, discovering that giving up control could make me feel stronger—that was just the beginning. Van taught me to recognize power hierarchies and control dynamics, skills that translate far beyond our bedroom. I have a capacity for understanding dominance and control that goes deeper than our games.

Van's training taught me to recognize the strength underneath my optimistic nature. The way I can smile sweetly while making it clear that crossing me would be a mistake. The way I canproject warmth and accessibility while maintaining complete control over every interaction.

I don't want to escape from my family. I want to understand my place in it.

"The bright and smiley thing," I say, more to myself than to Luca, "it's not weakness. It's camouflage."

His laugh is genuinely delighted. "Now you're getting it. People underestimate the girl who brings light into dark rooms. They tell her things, trust her with secrets, let her get close." His eyes glitter with approval. "And by the time they realize what she's really capable of, it's far too late to protect themselves."

The revelation settles into my bones like recognition. I've been so focused on proving I'm not helpless that I missed the real truth: I'm not helpless, but I'm also not trying to be something I'm not. The happiness is real. The steel is real. Both can exist in the same person, and together they're more powerful than either would be alone.

"Intelligence and observation skills," Luca continues, studying me with new interest. "Very Rosetti. Even though I'm youngest, I'm still family. That name carries weight." He leans forward slightly. "The question is: are you ready to learn how to use it?"

I think about Van, willing to destroy his whole world for me. The question is: what am I willing to build for us?

"Yes," I say, and the word feels like coming home.

After Luca leaves, I sit in Van's chair, staring out at the city that's become home. My whole body feels different, like I've been holding my breath for years and can finally exhale.

Standing here in what used to be Van's controlled emptiness, but is now filled with touches of me, I finally understand the difference between being protected and being cherished. Van would destroy his whole world for me, but I don't want him to sacrifice everything. I want to use my own strength to protect what we're building together.

Before he arrives, I hang the small Monet print I bought last week—not asking where it should go, just choosing the perfect spot where morning light will catch it. The hammer feels good in my hand, decisive. Two months ago, I wouldn't have dared mark his walls. Now I'm creating our home, one nail at a time.

When he returns from the hospital hours later, exhaustion evident in every line of his body from the sleepless night coordinating security and then a full day of surgery, I'm still there, but something fundamental has shifted.

"How was work?" I ask, like this is normal, like we're a normal couple having a normal conversation.

He studies my face, those sharp gray eyes missing nothing. The exhaustion lines around his eyes tell me it was a long day of saving lives after an even longer night of family crisis management, but his attention is completely focused on me. "What happened?"

"Luca stopped by." I stand, moving into his space with new certainty. "He showed me his latest solutions to our Torrino problem."

Van goes very still, the kind of stillness that means he's calculating threats and responses. "And?"

"And I realized something important." I reach up to cup his face, feeling the tension in his jaw, the slight rasp of stubble under my fingertips. "I don't want to escape anymore, Van. I don't want you to sacrifice everything so we can run away and pretend we're different people."

His hands find my waist, holding me steady like he's afraid I might disappear. "Carmela…"

"I want to belong," I say, cutting him off. "I want to belong to you, and I want to belong to a family that will kill to protect the people they love. Not because they have to, but because that's what family means to them."

I see the exact moment he understands what I'm choosing. Not just him, not just us, but all of it.

"I'm not running from being a Rosetti," I tell him, my voice strong and clear. "I'm choosing to embrace who I really am."

His smile transforms his face into something dangerously beautiful. When he speaks, his voice carries a promise that sends shivers down my spine.