Page 49 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream (Dark Hearts #3)

S erafina

The house smells the same when I walk through the door with Andreas’ hand in mine. It smells like comfort and sisterhood, but with an undertone that only distance can point to—grief.

I hadn’t realized how much sadness is contained within these four walls. My sessions with Dr. Nowak have cleared so much fog I’m seeing many things in a completely new light.

When Papa called a week ago asking me to come home, he wouldn’t be drawn on why, only stating that he’d asked each of us four sisters.

Of course, the second I hung up I called Trilby and Tess.

They were equally perplexed by the sudden request but had changed plans to accommodate it anyway.

I thought Bambi might’ve had more intel seeing as she still sees Papa most days, living under the same roof and all, but she was none the wiser too.

I’ve been in a mild state of anxiety ever since, which is annoying as seeing all my family together again should be a cause for celebration. And for the first time since we got married, I actually want my husband to be in the same room with us all.

I’ve wondered if Papa is sick, but neither Bambi nor Allegra—those closest to Papa—have noticed anything that might suggest he’s unwell.

I’ve wondered if maybe he’s selling the house.

It would sadden me, as it still houses such fond memories of Mama, but I understand that with three of us practically flown the nest, there isn’t the need for so much space.

We walk hand-in-hand to the living room, where Tess and Trilby are chatting at a million miles per hour and Bambi is curled on a chair staring glumly at her phone.

Allegra bustles back and forth with trays of soft drinks, lowballs and bottles of various different malt whiskeys.

The sound of Benito’s voice filters through from the kitchen.

Andreas bends down and plants a warm kiss to my lips before heading in that direction.

Tess looks over at him, warily. She still doesn’t trust her boyfriend’s brother despite my attempts to assure her I’m okay. More than okay, actually.

“How was the trip?” Allegra says, wrapping her arms around me.

“It was great,” I reply, smiling,

“You look different,” Bambi says with a disgruntled frown on her face .

My brows hike up my forehead. “In a good way I hope.”

She shrugs and returns her gaze to her phone.

Trilby sidles over to me and dips her mouth to my ear. “She and Allegra just had a fight. Ignore her.”

Tess rolls her eyes as though she’s bored of hearing about it.

“Where’s Papa?” I ask.

“He just popped out for a few minutes. Groceries probably,” Trilby says. “How was Washington?”

I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face and it draws the attention of each of my sisters and my aunt.

“Well, that’s a good look on you,” Allegra says with a wink.

“It was fun,” I say, lightly.

Tess is about to open her mouth, no doubt to berate me for losing my head over a man who supposedly abandoned his younger brother for over decade and clearly can’t be trusted with my heart, when the front door opens and Papa’s voice filters down the hall.

We all smile as he enters, then those smiles fall slightly when we see who’s following him. It’s Antonia, Cristiano’s aunt. The woman Papa has been seeing for almost a year now.

I’m sure she’s a lovely woman but I can’t bring myself to get to know her—it would feel like acknowledging that Mama is really gone.

They both come to stand in front of the fireplace.

He’s still wearing an impeccable suit, as if he could be called into a business meeting at the port at any moment.

But two things are different. One: He’s smiling more broadly than I’ve seen him smile in eight years. And two: His wedding band has gone.

Allegra comes back into the room with my husband and three other men. Cristiano walks to Trilby’s side and takes her hand. Something about his demeanor tells me he already knows what we’re about to find out.

Benito lifts Tess, sets himself down in a chair and rests her on his lap.

The third man stands at the edge of the room and taps at his phone until Antonia clears her throat with a pointed glare.

I assume it’s Nicolò, her son. Whoever he is, he’s also on the receiving end of a timid, curious stare from my seventeen-year-old sister.

Papa clears his throat. “Girls,” he says, and I already hate the way that word sounds. Girls. We are not girls. We are women who’ve endured years of grief after our mother was brutally murdered at the hands of a gang right in front of our eldest sister.

“I have some news. We have some news.”

I look across at Antonia who is panning her gaze nervously between us all.

“Antonia and I just returned from a short break in Vermont. And, well,” he says, beaming now, “while we were there, we decided to get married.”

He awkwardly lifts Antonia’s left hand and a giant emerald sends shards of green light across the room. How did I not notice that when they walked in? It’s unmissable .

But it’s met with silence .

Tess huffs out a breath. “You’re joking.” Benito’s arms tighten around her waist.

Papa laughs nervously. “No, sweetheart. I’m not joking. We did it by a lake. Just the two of us, simple and beautiful.”

Bambi swears under her breath, earning herself a vicious glare from Allegra and Antonia’s son.

Trilby looks over at me like I have the power to reverse time.

I just stare at him—at the man who raised four daughters with a woman whose ghost is still in every room, and who is now smiling like a teenager at prom.

“You got married?” I ask, finally, the words tasting foreign in my mouth.

His smile wanes as the evidence of our shock settles in. “I wanted to tell you all in person. You mean everything to me.”

I am stunned by how quickly the ground can shift. I’ve only just acclimated to being a wife, a mafia wife, a partner to someone who has killed for me, and who, if push came to shove, I might just kill for too.

I’ve only just gotten used to the fact I’m living a life Mama would have hated. We all are, except Bambi—for now. I’m still working through the effects of that with Dr. Nowak. And now, Papa is moving on from Mama too, something I genuinely never thought would happen.

“So, what now?” I ask.

“Nothing changes,” Papa rushes out. “Except… Antonia will be living here with us. And Nicolò is also we lcome too, though he spends his time between several properties.”

My gaze drifts, trance-like, to Nicolò. “So, you’re like, our stepbrother now?”

He glances up from his phone and shrugs. When I was younger and the ever-present chaos of being surrounded by girls became too much, I would dream of having a brother. But Nicolò isn’t selling the idea right now. He looks so bored and disinterested.

Trilby leaves Cristiano’s side and is the first one to hug Papa and Antonia, and then Nicolò. “Congratulations, and welcome to our family.”

I realize I should probably follow suit, even though it’s the last thing I want to do right now. I need to get my head around all of this. Andreas squeezes my hand before releasing me to walk across the room and do the same.

When I wrap my arms around Antonia, she’s trembling. I offer her a small, hopefully reassuring smile, before I tentatively hug my new stepbrother.

Benito whispers something in Tess’s ear but she shakes her head, refusing to move. He kisses her neck instead.

I look over at Bambi who is staring at Papa, Antonia and Nicolò, her eyes wide and watery.

It’s only now I remember just how attached she’s become to our father.

Being the youngest of the family, Bambi was always treated with kid gloves.

She could do no wrong in Papa’s eyes and he’s doted on her for all these years.

This has only intensified as her relationship with Allegra has grown more combustible.

They are two fiery women who rage as intensely as they love.

But she’s no longer the only sun in his orbit. Papa has a new love now: Antonia.

Bambi’s horrified gaze slides between Papa and Antonia like she can’t believe what she just heard. My heart lurches. She’s still so young but she’s had to grow up fast—possibly faster than the rest of us.

We didn’t have to contend with the prospect of life in the mafia at her age. We at least had a few more years behind us. Bambi is navigating so much: hormones, school pressures, the notoriety that comes with being part of the Di Santo’s, and now step-daughter to a new mother.

She scrambles off the chair and glares at them one more time. In a thinly veiled temper, she yanks the band from her hair, letting her insanely long locks fall down her back, then runs out of the room.

No one else moves—we just stand or sit awkwardly, unsure what to do.

Antonia is the first to speak. “I know this is a lot to take in, and a bit of a surprise.”

Tess’s brows hike up her forehead.

“I just want to reassure you all, I love your father and I want to make him as happy as he makes me. I’m not here to replace anyone or erase the past. It’s part of who you all are. Your father has raised four strong, incredible young women. I’m proud to be joining your family.”

“ Mom . ”

I lift my gaze to Nicolò. He’s shooting his mother a warning glare as if he doesn’t want her to say anymore. Because, in truth, she doesn’t owe us an explanation.

She frowns, then continues. “I expect it will take some time to get used to the idea, but I’m here if any of you wish to talk. I’m looking forward to getting to know you all better.”

I smile, encouragingly. “Thanks Antonia, that’s nice to hear.”

Trilby rolls her lips inward. “I’m sorry, I… I should go check on Bambi.”

“I’ll come with you,” I add.

“Me too.” Tess pushes herself off Benito’s lap and follows us out of the room. We all walk briskly to the back of the property to the garden, knowing exactly where Bambi will be. Papa built her a treehouse when she was six and it’s still the place she goes when she wants to hide herself away.

There it still stands, tucked up against an old oak at the end of the garden, half-swallowed by ivy. I haven’t climbed it since before Mom died but I know Tess and Bambi were regular visitors growing up.

We climb the ladder and crawl into the little house.

I haven’t dressed for a New York early winter so my arms are permanently fixed around myself.

Bambi is sitting with her knees to her chest and her arms wrapped tight around them, like she’s trying to disappear.

The little lantern we used to hang from the roof is still flickering, dim from a half-dead battery.

“Hey, Bambi,” Trilby says, softly .

She doesn’t look up. Her voice is muffled against her sweater. “How can you all be okay with this?”

I settle cross-legged beside her then reach out to rub her back. “We’re not,” I whisper.

She lifts her head and glares at me and Trilby. “You congratulated them,” she sneers.

I shake my head. There’s a time and a place to explain the virtue of good manners, and this is neither.

Her cheeks are pink from crying, and her eyes are swollen. “He’s replacing her,” she says, her voice breaking. “He’s replacing Mama . And no one even cares.”

I reach for her hand, and to my relief she doesn’t pull away.

“We do care Bambi. We’re just... older. We’ve had more time to be angry. Papa isn’t trying to erase Mama or the memory of her. He’s simply… moving on.”

“But she’s going to be living with me , under our roof ,” she whines. “And she has a son . What does that make him? Our brother ?”

Tess snorts. “Technically, yes. Emotionally? Probably not.”

“I don’t like him,” Bambi says quickly. “He’s weird. Cold. He didn’t even say hello to me.”

“He’s probably feeling uncomfortable too,” Trilby says. “Can you imagine suddenly inheriting four outspoken, demanding sisters?”

Bambi grunts in reply.

I brush a leaf from Bambi’s hair. “Things are going to change—we have to accept that. But you’ll be going to college soon. You’ll have new friends, new drama. You’ll text us when you need something, and Papa will still pick up your calls before any of ours.” I smile. “Not everything will change.”

She stares down at her hands. “I just don’t want to be forgotten.”

“That will never happen,” I assure her.

I take in her emerging figure, her enormous eyes, small button nose and bee-stung lips. Our youngest sister is the prettiest of all. She’ll be far from forgotten—she’ll be fought over. But up here, at the innocent age of seventeen, in the treehouse she still calls home, that won’t mean a thing.

“Anyone for hot chocolate?” Tess asks, taking us all back to the days when we’d hide out until the sun went down, warming ourselves beneath blankets.

“I’d love one,” I reply.

Then I wrap my arms around my little sister and pull her close, silently promising to call her often, listen always, and love her as hard as I can.