“Come on, Elena. Why don’t you eat something? I’ll arrange for the kids to get some food as well?—”
“I’ll do it,” Gabriella says. “I need to cool off anyway.” As she’s leaving the living area, she stops. “I don’t mean to be such a bitch, Elena. I love my brother. He’s a good man. You could do a lot worse.”
I nod. “I know.”
I’m so, so tired. I want to sleep, but I know I won’t.
The hours pass.
The kids are sleeping upstairs.
Isabella and Gabriella are in the living room with me, but they too are sleeping.
But I can’t rest.
I can’t even close my eyes.
The front door opens. I rush to it.
Luca steps inside, his shoulders hunched, his face carved with exhaustion, eyes hollow.
I search his expression for any sign, good or bad.
"Anything?" I ask.
He shakes his head once, the small movement devastating in its finality.
Without a word, he walks past me toward his office. I follow him.
He goes to his desk, bracing his hands on it, his head bowed in defeat.
“Have you learned anything? Please, Luca. Tell me something."
"Nothing," he says. "No ransom call. No witnesses who remember seeing anything useful. Nothing."
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold. "But that's impossible. Someone must have seen something."
“Santa and a kid. Nothing to use to track them. Dom's men are checking security cameras from surrounding businesses. Marco's got contacts in law enforcement looking for any similar incidents." He runs a hand over his face. "We'll find him, Elena."
But he doesn’t sound as sure as he did earlier.
He lifts his head, his tormented gaze facing me. "This is my fault. I should have listened to you. I pushed too hard about your father."
"No," I say, stepping closer. "I should have told you about the children. We wouldn't be here if?—"
"It doesn't matter now." Luca straightens, his expression hardening. "I'm going to find our son. I'll make sure you and the kids are safe. And then I'll stay out of your lives."
His words come out of nowhere. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I was wrong to force my way in. You were right to keep them away from all this." His eyes meet mine again. "From me."
"Luca, no?—"
"I couldn't protect him," he cuts me off. "Our son is gone because of who I am, what I've done."
I reach for him, but he steps back, creating a chasm between us that feels impossible to cross.
"Luca, stop." I step toward him but don’t touch him. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to decide you're the villain here when we know nothing about who took Rocco or why."
