"That's one hundred and forty thousand dollars," Kristen continues, voice unwavering. "At my current salary, it'll take time. So I'm going to work weekends too. Starting today."
Like hell you are.
The words burn on my tongue. I swallow them down, tasting ash and frustration.
Pietro studies her for a long moment. I recognize that look. He's calculating. Assessing. Trying to figure out what broke between last night and this morning.
His eyes flick to me.
I keep my expression blank.
"That's not necessary," Pietro says finally. "We're not loan sharks. There's no interest. No deadline. We're simply helping someone who helped us."
"And I appreciate that." Kristen's voice cracks, just slightly, before she steadies it. "But I won't be in anyone's debt. I won't let that happen again."
The kitchen goes silent.
I'm thinking about Jack Walker's face when I finally get my hands on him.
"We're not trying to control you," Vittoria says softly. "We just want to help."
"I know." Kristen finally smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "And this is how you can help. Let me earn it. Let me keep my dignity."
"Fine," Pietro says. "We'll set up a repayment plan. But you're not working seven days a week. That's not sustainable, and Giulia would murder us all from Sicily if she found out."
"I can handle it."
"Three days on weekends," Pietro counters. "Saturday mornings. That's it. And you take every other weekend off completely."
Kristen hesitates. Then nods. "Agreed."
"Good." Pietro picks up his tablet again. "Now sit down and eat something. You look like you haven't slept."
Kristen finally sits. Vittoria immediately starts loading a plate with food, chattering about how the bacon is perfectly crispy and the bread is fresh from some bakery downtown.
I watch Kristen accept the plate. Watch her take a small bite. Watch her pretend I don't exist.
This isn't over.
She thinks she can freeze me out. Thinks she can build walls high enough that I can't see over them.
She's wrong.
I've spent my entire life watching people. Reading them. Finding the cracks in their armor.
Kristen Thomas has more cracks than she knows. And I put some of them there last night.
Which means I'm the only one who can fix them.
Not that I deserve to.
But since when has deserving ever stopped me from taking what I want?
Kristen
Lily ate breakfast an hour ago when she woke up, bouncing around the kitchen like she'd lived here her whole life. Now she's curled up on the sectional with Sophia, watching some animated movie about a princess who doesn't need saving.
I shouldn't trust the women in this family. I know that. They're part of this world, complicit in whatever crimes fund this breakfast. But Sophia had red-rimmed eyes when I found her in the kitchen this morning, clutching a coffee mug like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
