My breath came shallow.
Renzo exhaled slowly through his nose.
“Meanwhile, Vincenzo hates peaches.”
That pulled my attention back to him.
“What?”
Renzo leaned forward now, elbows resting on his knees, his focus sharpening.
“Always has.” His voice was quieter now.
He used to say—back when we were teenagers—that the only girl he’d never forget couldn’t stand the smell of it.”
My heart stuttered.
“He said it made her throat close up.”
“He swore off it after that.” Renzo tilted his head slightly. “Stopped eating it. Drinking it. Avoided anything with even a hint of it.”
A beat.
“That girl... that was you, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered, voice barely more than air.
Honest. “Only he can answer that.”
My fingers curled around the armrest, knuckles whitening.
I always thought Vincenzo had forgotten me after he disappeared from that cave.
Who would have guessed he never stopped thinking about me?
That he carried every word I whispered back then, every confession, every fear.
That he even hates peaches now—because I told him I was allergic, in that damp, dark cave when we were children.
Ironically, the same man who remembers me, who remembers even my allergies, is the one who despises me—whowants to tear me down until nothing remains of me, until I am nothing at all.
“The Spanish want you dead,” Renzo said, his voice slicing through my thoughts. “That’s what this is.”
I rubbed my arms beneath the hoodie, suddenly aware of the chill crawling across my skin.
“Matteo Alvarez isn’t exactly subtle when he’s angry. He believes you stole Violet’s future.”
“I believed it too,” Renzo added coldly.
His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing with clear disgust. “You showed up on her wedding day, fully aware of the history between you and Vincenzo. You stole her man and ruined what should have been the best day of her life.”
His voice dropped into something venomous. “No matter how I look at it... you’re just a heartless, evil woman.”
The words landed like a slap.
I met his glare head-on, my own voice steady despite the tremor beneath it.
“Renzo,” I snapped. “I know you hate me.”
