"I remember this being around the time you'd take your afternoon nap."
"Couldn't sleep." She doesn't look at me, her eyes fixed on the dancing water. "Too much on my mind."
I sit beside her, leaving space between us. Respecting the boundaries she's set, even though every instinct screams at me to pull her into my arms and never let go.
"Valentina—" I start, ready to tell her everything. About the meeting. About her father. About the protection I've just extended that might cost me my empire.
But she speaks first.
"Salvatore, remember how you told me that if I wanted to, in six months after the wedding, I could leave?"
My heart sinks, dropping into my stomach like a stone.
"Yes."
"Did you mean it?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with everything she's not saying. She's planning her escape already. Building her exit strategy. Counting down the days until she's free of me.
I could lie. I could tell her the deal's changed, that she's mine forever, that there's no walking away from the Vitale family once you're in.
But I won't build our marriage on more lies.
"Yes. I meant it."
"Okay." The single word carries the weight of a thousand unspoken thoughts. She stands, smoothing her dress, still not meeting my eyes.
"Goodnight, Salvatore.""Goodnight, mia regina," I say to her retreating back, watching her walk away from me just like I knew she eventually would.
She pauses for just a moment, so brief I might have imagined it, then continues toward the house, leaving me alone in the garden with the weight of everything I've just risked.
I saved her father.
But I'm not sure I saved us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Valentina
Istand in front of the mirror in my wedding dress, and all I can think about is my father.
Rosa moves around me with pins in her teeth, adjusting the hem, murmuring about how perfect it is. How beautiful I’ll be. How lucky I am.
Lucky.
The word tastes like ash.
The silk skims over my skin as if it had been made for me alone, every seam precise, every detail flawless. Rosa steps back to admire her work while I watch my reflection. A bride. That’s what I’m supposed to be. But the woman staring back at me looks like someone frozen in place while everything around her quietly unravels.
I used to think what I felt for Salvatore was love. Real, undeniable, rare. Now I wonder if I just mistook appetite for affection. Instinct for intention. He never promised me tenderness. I dressed his hunger up as something softer and convinced myself it was enough.
It wasn’t.
It’s been three days since I last slept through the night. Three days of lying awake, staring into the dark, wondering if my father is still alive.
I’m done waiting for Salvatore Vitale to be the hero of this story. Heroes don’t keep your father in a cage and call it complicated.
I sit in the library and turn my phone over in my hands. It’s tracked. I’ve known that since the first day. He knows my location at all times.
