"Everyone heard that," she mumbles into the pillow, sounding mortified and satisfied in equal measure.
"Good." I kiss her shoulder, tasting salt and sex. "Now they all know exactly how good you take me."
CHAPTER THIRTY
Lorenzo
The hospital waiting room smells like disinfectant and fear. I sit between Sophia and Vittoria, my hands steady despite what's coming. The bone marrow donation isn't what has me on edge—it's the silence from my sister that cuts deeper than any needle will.
Vittoria hasn't looked at me once since we arrived. She stares at the abstract painting on the wall like it holds the secrets of the universe. Her fingers twist the delicate gold bracelet our father gave her for her thirteenth birthday. The last birthday he was alive for.
"Mr. Sartori?" A nurse appears in scrubs. "We'll be ready for you in about twenty minutes."
I nod. Twenty more minutes of this suffocating quiet.
Sophia's hand finds mine, her thumb tracing circles on my palm. She doesn't speak. She's learned when words help and when they don't. This morning she simply kissed me and said, "I'm proud of you." Nothing more needed.
Vittoria shifts in her chair. The movement is small, but after days of her avoiding me, it feels like an earthquake.
"You all handled it better than me," she says suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper. "When Papa died."
I turn to look at her, but she's still focused on that painting.
"You were so young, Vittoria?—"
"I was thirteen," she repeats, stronger now. "Old enough to understand death. Old enough to know my father was gone." Her jaw tightens. "Old enough to deserve the truth about him having another family."
The accusation hangs between us. I want to defend myself, explain again why I kept Giuseppe's secret, but I've said it all before.
"I lost Papa," Vittoria continues, her voice cracking slightly. "Then Riccardo became... he was everything. He walked me down the aisle at school father-daughter dances. He threatened my first boyfriend." A bitter laugh escapes her. "He was supposed to give me away at my wedding someday."
My chest tightens. Riccardo's death hit us all, but Vittoria... she's twenty-three and has already buried two fathers.
"Now he's gone too," she says, finally turning to face me. Her eyes are dry but filled with a pain that makes me want to look away. "And Ava... she couldn't stay. Seeing us, being in that house without him... she said it was killing her."
"They were close," I say so Sophia can understand what's costing her.
"Like sisters," Vittoria corrects. "Ava taught me how to do my makeup, how to walk in heels. She was there when I got my first period because Mama was in Italy visiting family." Her fingers abandon the bracelet to grip the armrest. "Everyone leaves, Lorenzo. Death or choice, everyone leaves."
Sophia squeezes my hand tighter.
"But you," Vittoria continues, and now her eyes search mine. "You kept that secret for ten years. Let it eat at you, let it isolate you, all to protect us. To protect me from knowing my father was a liar."
"Vittoria—"
She shifts her chair closer, her knee bumping mine. "I'm still angry. I may be angry for a long time. But I'm also..." She takes a shaky breath. "I'm proud of you."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
"Not for keeping the secret," she clarifies quickly. "For this. For doing this for Alberto. A stranger who represents everything Papa hid from us, and you're saving his life anyway."
"It's not his fault," I say quietly. "He didn't choose any of this."
"Neither did we." Vittoria reaches over and takes my free hand. "But you're choosing to help him anyway. That's... that's who you really are, Lorenzo. Under all the control and calculation. You protect people, even when it costs you everything."
Her hand is smaller than Sophia's, but her grip is fierce.
"Don't leave me too," she whispers, and for a moment she's not the brilliant woman who handles our cyber security. She's my baby sister, terrified of losing anyone else. "Promise me."
