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I don’t know how I ended up in Galena. Dawn broke cold and clear, the Mississippi River glinting beyond the quaint streets, Galena’s historic brick houses glowing in the morning light like a postcard from a simpler time.
Aurelia’s parents’ house stood at the end of a quiet street. It was the kind of warmth I’d never known, not in Father’s cold mansion.She was my only happy place, the one light in this darkness, her touch, her laugh, her strength in vulnerability the only things keeping me sane. I shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t cast my shadow over her healing. But the ache for her was a physical pain. A need that drove me to park across the street, the engine off, my eyes fixed on the house for any sign of her.
Hours ticked by, neighbors walking dogs, a kid on a bike delivering newspapers. I needed her, needed to explain, to beg forgiveness for sins I didn’t commit but was stained by. I leaned back, eyes heavy, when movement caught my attention, her, stepping onto the porch with who seemed like her parents and a guy, tall, blond, with an easy smile that twisted something ugly in my chest. My heart lurched, jealousy spiking like venom. Who was he? The sight of her with him ignited a fury I hadn’t expected, a possessive edge that felt foreign, dangerous.
I forced myself to breathe, to compose the storm inside. I stood there waiting for her, boots crunching on gravel, my heart pounding as I saw her. Aurelia froze when she saw me, her eyes wide with shock, lips parting, a flush creeping up her neck. Her parents stopped at the gate, their faces curious but wary, the guy pausing beside her, his smile fading into confusion. “Aurelia,” I said, my voice steady despite the chaos inside, “I need a word. Please. Just a moment.”
She hesitated, her gaze flicking to her parents, then back to me, conflict swirling in her eyes, fear, anger, but something softer, too, a flicker of longing that gave me hope. “Okay,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, nodding to her parents. “I’ll be fine.”
Her mother stepped forward, concern etching her face. “You sure, honey? We’re right here if you need us.”
“I’m okay, Mom,” Aurelia said, her smile forced but reassuring, her voice steadier now. Her father, weathered and quiet, gave me a hard look, his blue eyes assessing, but nodded, guiding his wife toward the porch. The guy lingered, his gaze darting between us, clearly wanting to stay, but Aurelia shook her head slightly, and he followed her parents, casting one last glance over his shoulder.
We stepped inside, the foyer warm with the scent of apple pie and polished wood, the stairs creaking under our feet as we climbed to a room which looked like hers. The door clicked shut, sealing us in a small space that felt both intimate and claustrophobic. The air was charged, my jealousy from seeing her with that guy a raw nerve, a spark igniting something reckless.
Without thinking, I grabbed her jaw, not hard, but firm, pushing her gently against the door, my body pinning hers, and kissed her deeply, desperately, pouring all my need, my pain, into it. Her lips were soft, familiar, a taste of home I’d been starving for, but she tensed, hands pushing at my chest, a muffled “Keith, stop” against my mouth. I was stronger, kept her there a moment longer, lost in her warmth, her scent, until her struggle snapped me back to reality.
I pulled away, releasing her, my breath ragged, shame flooding me like ice water. “I’m sorry,” I said, stepping back, hands raised in surrender, my voice thick with regret. “God, Aurelia, I’m so sorry. Seeing you with him… with that guy… it triggered something in me. I didn’t mean to,”
She rubbed her jaw, eyes flashing with anger, her chest heaving. “Andrew is just a friend, Keith. From high school. Nothing more. But you can’t just… grab me like that.”
“I know,” I said, my voice breaking, running a hand through my hair, pacing the small room to burn off the adrenaline. “I thought I could give you space, let you heal after Boris, after what he said about Marcus. I tried, God, I tried to stay away, to let you breathe. But I needed you, Aurelia. I want you. I love you.”
The confession spilled out, raw and unfiltered, my chest cracking open as I stopped, facing her, my eyes burning with tears I hadn’t shed in years. “You’re my world, My Maneskin. My light during the dark nights. I’ve built empires, faced killers, stared down boards and cartels, but nothing terrifies me like losing you. I’d burn it all down, Elysian, the hotels, every dollar I’ve made, if it meant keeping you safe, making you mine again. I didn’t know about Father, about your shipment. I swear it on my life. I was never part of that side, never wanted it. But I’m finding the truth now, and it’s tearing me apart.”
She watched me, her anger softening, her eyes searching mine, the silence heavy with the weight of our shared pain. “Keith…” she started, her voice soft, hesitant, “what did you find? What’s happened?”
I sank onto the edge of her bed, my head in my hands, the words spilling like blood from a wound. “I dug into Father’s business, trying to clear my name, to prove I’m not him, not part of what hurt you. But what I found… it’s worse than I imagined.” My voice cracked, tears welling as I looked up at her, the truth a blade I couldn’t dull.
“Mother didn’t kill herself. He murdered her. She found his ledgers, discovered he’d sold a girl… our sister, maybe eleven at that time. She confronted him, threatened to expose it all with the ledgers. He killed her then he staged it as suicide. Me, Anton and Zora, we believed the lie, buried her memory under grief. And the girl… I found a photo in Mother’s room. I don’t remember her, but she was family. Sold. Like you almost were. It’s all connected, and it’s breaking me.”
Sobs tore through me, raw and unyielding, the first since I’d found Mother’s body. I was on my knees now, the carpet rough under me, my shoulders shaking as the weight of it crushed me. Aurelia knelt before me, her arms wrapping around me, tight and warm, her breath soft against my ear as she pulled me close. “Keith,” she whispered, her voice a balm, steady despite her own tears. “I love you too. I was angry, hurt, when Boris said that about your father. I ran because I couldn’t face the possibility you knew, that you were part of it. But these two weeks… I’ve had time to think, to breathe. I wanted to give you a chance to explain, and now you have. I believe you. You’re not him. You’re not your father’s sins.”
Her words were a lifeline, pulling me from the abyss, her embrace grounding me as I clung to her, tears soaking her shoulder. “You’re enough,” she murmured, her hands stroking my hair, “We’ll get through this together. I’m here, Keith. I’m not running anymore.”
I lifted my head, her face a blur through tears, and kissed her, softly this time, a promise, not a claim, her lips yielding, warm, tasting of salt and forgiveness. We reconciled there, holding each other as the world outside faded, her affirmations mending the cracks in my soul.
But deep down, beneath the love, the rage burned, a cold, unyielding fire. Father had murdered Mother, sold a sister, nearly destroyed Aurelia. His empire was a cancer, and I’d cut it out for them all. The war wasn’t over, it was just beginning.
Chapter 28
Aurelia
The revelation hit me like a wave crashing over the shore, but instead of drowning me, it pulled me under in a way that made me see Keith clearly for the first time since the warehouse. Two weeks of isolation had given me space to breathe, to process the chaos that had upended my life. As Keith knelt before me in my bedroom, his voice breaking as he confessed the horrors he'd uncovered, I felt a shift. Empathy bloomed in my chest, warm and unexpected, pushing back the anger that had fueled my flight from New York.
He'd suffered more than enough. The weight of his family's sins had crushed him, his broad shoulders slumping under the burden as he sobbed, the man who'd built an island reduced to a broken figure on my floor. His connection to Marcus Krogen, the architect of so much pain, didn't define him. Keith had always been there for me. He'd protected me, loved me in ways no one else had.
His actions speaking louder than blood ties. How could I hold him accountable for sins he didn't commit, for a legacy he'd rejected? He wasn't his father, he was the man who'd chosen me, who'd vowed to burn it all down for us. The thought softened the edgesof my hurt, replacing the nausea with a quiet resolve. We were both scarred, both survivors, perhaps that was what bound us.
I helped him to his feet, his hands warm in mine, his eyes red-rimmed but grateful. "We should go downstairs," I said softly, wiping a tear from his cheek. "My parents are probably wondering what's going on."
He nodded, straightening his shirt, running a hand through his messy hair. "Yeah."
I took his hand, our fingers interlacing as we descended the creaky stairs, the familiar scent of apple pie wafting from the kitchen, a comforting anchor in the emotional storm. Keith followed behind me, his steps heavier than usual, like the weight of his confessions still clung to him. My parents were there, Mom fidgeting with a dishtowel in the kitchen doorway. Dad sat in his recliner, his weathered face stern, eyes sharp as he looked up from his newspaper.
"Aurelia?" Mom said, stepping forward, her voice tentative. "Everything alright, honey?"
