Then she presses her hand to my chest—right over the part of me I thought was too far gone to matter.
“This,” she whispers, “this is what I see. A man who left hell and built something beautiful. Who loves fiercely. Who holds me when I can’t hold myself.”
My hand finds her wrist, wrapping around it gently like I’m afraid she’ll disappear.
“You should run, Baby Girl,” I murmur.
But she lifts her chin, that stubborn spark in her eyes. “You’d catch me anyway.”
The sound that escapes me is a mess—half laugh, half sob—and I can’t hold it in anymore. I pull her into me like I’m starving. Like if I don’t hold her, I’ll fall apart.
And then she’s in my lap, straddling me on the couch, cradling my face like she’s trying to memorize every scar and shadow.
“I’m not leaving,” she says.
My forehead falls to her shoulder. I breathe her in. Vanilla and coffee and safety.
“You always know what to say,” I manage, my voice muffled against her skin.
“No,” she whispers back. “I just love you too damn much to let you drown in something you already survived.”
And right then, I know—I’ve never been more seen. Or more saved.
She’s quiet, watching me with those eyes that never miss anything. Not judgmental. Not afraid. Just… waiting. Like she knows there’s more. And she’s giving me the space to find the words.
God, I hate talking about this.
Not because I’m ashamed. Not anymore. But because once I say it out loud, I can’t take it back. There’s no unbreaking that silence. No pretending it never existed.
But I owe her the truth.
So I breathe in, slow and deep, and start.
“The family I worked for…” My voice is rough. “It was mine by blood. The Morettis.”
Her body goes still. Not from shock. Just stillness—the kind that listens with everything.
“My uncle ran it,” I continue. “Old-school mafia. Money laundering. Protection rackets. Blood oaths. All of it.”
I don’t look away. She deserves the truth with my eyes on hers.
“I wasn’t born into it the way Sebastian was, but I was brought in early. Trained. Groomed. I was meant to be his sword. His shadow. And I was good at it.”
There’s no pride in the words. Just a fact. That part of me is a closed room. A part of the house I keep locked.
“But the heir—my cousin, Sebastian—he was the one meant to take over.”
She gives me a small nod, staying silent, but I can feel how closely she’s listening. Her presence makes it easier to keep going.
“The thing is… he didn’t want it. Didn’t want the blood, or the weight. And he sure as hell didn’t want to become our uncle.”
I let a breath out, one I didn’t know I was holding.
“He was in love—with his best friend, Gabriel. Has been since we were kids.”
A faint smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. It surprises even me.
“They tried to hide it. At first. But I knew. Hell, I didn’t care. Gabe made Seb human. He pulled him back when the rest of us just kept pushing forward.”
