“Nicolò.” Her voice breaks on my name. “My boy. Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because I was ashamed.” The admission comes easier than I expected. Maybe honesty is a muscle after all. Maybe I’m finally learning to use it.
My father stands in the doorway, his expression harder to read. Antonio Rossi has never been a man of many words, but the ones he chooses tend to cut deep.
“What you did to your brother,” he says slowly. “That was wrong.”
I nod, my eyes wet with tears. “I know.”
“You tried to manipulate him,” my father says. “To control who he loved. That is not how we raised you.”
“I know, Dad,” I tell him, wiping at my eyes.
He crosses to me. For a moment I’m braced for something. A lecture. A slap, maybe. The disappointment I’ve been running fromfor a decade.
Instead, he pulls me into a rough embrace like mom did.
“But you are our son,” he says against my ear. “We do not abandon family. Even when family makes us want to strangle them.”
My mother laughs through her tears. Even Dom cracks a smile.
Something loosens in my chest. Some pressure I didn’t realize I was carrying. Like a prosthetic finally settling into place after months of adjustment.
Not perfect.
Still uncomfortable.
But functional.
The glass walls are still opaque, but I realize my parents forgot to close the door. I glance outside, and catch Bree watching. She’s at her desk, laptop forgotten, and she’s dabbing at her own eyes.
She smiles when my eyes meet hers, and for a moment the rest of the world drops away.
My company is under siege.
In four hours, Martin Hale is going to try to take away everything I’ve built.
But my family surrounds me.
And Bree is here.
Still fighting beside me.
And somehow, that’s the only thing that matters.
28
Bree
Friday, 2 PM. The most important board meeting in Rossi Industries history, and I’m sitting outside the boardroom like a kid waiting for the principal to decide her fate. The hallway is empty except for me and a security guy I’m pretty sure is named Parker, who stands like a very well-dressed statue nearby.
I’ve got my laptop balanced on my knees, headset firmly in place, conference line muted on my end. Standard protocol for executive secretaries during board sessions. Take notes, stay invisible, don’t breathe too loudly.
You know. My specialty.
Actually, to give Nico credit, he did request that I join this board meeting in person, just like he’d asked me to join the last one, but I’d told him I’d prefer to opt out for now. Especially considering the gossip article.
Sometimes being invisible has its perks.
