The drive back is silent.
Saint stares out the window. I watch his profile, trying to read him.
His uncle is dead. His father figure. The man who raised him. And instead of being there, instead of holding Antonio's hand as he passed, Saint was in an alley with me.
Because I ran. Because I couldn't trust him.
Because I'm exactly the curse Antonio said I was.
When we pull up to the compound, Saint turns to me. "When we go inside, you're grieving. You're supportive. You're the perfect Marini wife. Can you do that?"
"Yes."
"No more running to Alexei. No more deals. No more betrayals." His eyes are hard. "You're mine, Gemma. For better or worse. And you don't get to choose someone else just because things get hard."
"I know."
"Do you? Because from where I'm sitting, you've made every wrong choice possible."
The words sting because they're true.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry."
"Sorry doesn't fix this." He opens the car door. "Be good."
We walk into the house together. His hand finds mine. To anyone watching, we look united.
Only I can feel how tightly he's gripping me. Like if he lets go, I'll disappear.
Or maybe like he's holding on to the last piece of solid ground before everything collapses.
Marcello meets us in the foyer. His eyes are red. "He went peacefully. Just... stopped breathing."
Saint nods. Releases my hand. Pulls his cousin into a hug.
Over Marcello's shoulder, his eyes meet mine.
And in them, I see everything: grief, rage, love, betrayal, desperation.
We're broken.
Both of us.
And I don't know if we can be fixed.
But as I watch Saint comfort his family, as I step forward to play my role, I make a promise to myself:
I'll try.
Even if it kills me, I'll try.
Because losing him would be worse than any curse Antonio could have named.
CHAPTER 16
Saint
The church is packed.
