Chapter Twenty-Seven
KAI
I'd always thought that after the storm came peace. That once you survived the worst, everything got easier.
I was wrong. Aria and Lia had endured weeks of testimony, reliving every trauma. Which was something I didn’t want for them.
Four weeks after my father's arrest, the Council held the final sentencing hearing. Now it was finally ending.
Salvatore stood in chains, looking older and beaten but still defiant. When given his final statement, he called us ungrateful, claimed he'd only protected the family, twisted everything to make himself the victim. Then he looked at us with pure hatred and said he wished we'd died alongside our mother.
Lia's hand found mine under the table. I squeezed back, reminding her these were just empty words from a desperate man.
When asked if anyone else wished to speak, I stood. Looked my father in the eyes and told him he was dead to us. That after today, he'd be nothing but a cautionary tale about choosing power over humanity.
Father Benedetto pronounced the death sentence. Stripped of alltitles, property, authority. The Accardi name would continue through me, but Salvatore was nothing.
Guards dragged him away screaming about allies and power. The door slammed, cutting off his voice.
It was over. The hearing adjourned. We walked out of those chambers free for the first time in our lives.
But I didn't care about the empire. About the power. About any of it, I cared about getting Aria and Lia somewhere safe. Somewhere they could heal.
So that's exactly what I did.
Within a week, I'd bought a house on the coast. Three hours from the city. Right on the ocean. Big windows. Open spaces. As far from the dark estate as possible.
White walls instead of wood paneling. Natural light instead of shadows. The sound of waves instead of gunfire.
A place to heal. To recover. To remember what peace felt like.
Aria was struggling. The trauma manifesting in nightmares that had her waking up screaming almost every night. Convinced Salvatore was coming for her. That guards were breaking down the door. That she was back in that locked room.
I held her through every single one. Pulled her against my chest. Stroked her hair. Reminded her where she was. That she was safe. That I had her.
"You're okay. You're safe. He can't hurt you anymore. I've got you. Always got you."
During the day, I was gentle with her in ways I'd never been with anyone. Made her breakfast. Actually cooked instead of ordering someone else to do it. Sat with her on the beach. Watched the ocean. Didn't push her to talk or be okay.
Just existed beside her while she processed everything.
Some days she wanted to talk. Would tell me about her fears. Her anger. Her grief for the parents she'd lost. The future she'd thought she'd have.
Other days she was silent. Just sat with my arm around her. Staring at nothing.
Both were okay. Whatever she needed, I provided.
Lia was healing too. Slower. But healing. She'd enrolled in an art program at a college nearby. Finally following the dreams she'd had before our father had tried to sell her off.
She visited daily. She and Aria would spend hours together. Talking. Crying. Laughing sometimes. Two girls who'd survived the same hell. Who understood each other in ways no one else could.
I gave them space. Let them have their friendship without hovering. Knew they needed each other as much as they needed me.
One morning, two months after we'd moved to the beach house, I was making coffee when Aria came downstairs. She'd been quiet all week. Distant in a way that worried me.
"Can we talk?"
"Of course. Always." I handed her a cup. "What's on your mind?"
