I press the heel of my hand against my eyes, a low curse slipping out.
That child sees too much.
And she’s right.
I’ve carried this life too long alone.
Too many bodies. Too many secrets. Too much silence.
And now there’s a woman asleep in the next room who makes me want things I swore I buried with my wife.
Peace.
Laughter.
A home that feels alive again.
I lean my head back and let the thought hit me, unflinching.
If I believed in mercy, I’d pray she never finds out how deep this goes.
Because the truth is simple, cruel, and already written:
I can protect Isabella from the world.
But I can’t protecther from me.
Chapter 13
When I wake, the first thing I see is him.
He’s sitting against the wall across from my bedroom, half in shadow, his head tipped back against the doorframe. His shirt’s wrinkled, his hair still damp, and for a heartbeat I think he’s dead asleep—until his eyes open.
“You were watching me,” I whisper.
He doesn’t deny it. Just looks at me the way he always does—like he’s memorizing the proof I’m still breathing.
“Go back to sleep, Bella,” he says quietly.
“You are on the floor,” I murmur.
He stands, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Didn’t trust myself to be closer.” But he steps up to the edge of my bed anyway.
Something in my chest twists at that.
Before I can say anything, Sofia’s voice calls from the kitchen. “Papà! Bella! Breakfast!”
Dante sighs. “Saved by the princess.”
He reaches out like he might touch my cheek, then thinks better of it. “Come eat.”
The kitchen smells like pancakes and espresso. Sofia is already at the table, proudly stabbing strawberries onto a fork. Nicole moves around the stove, smiling when she sees me.
It’s warm. Familiar.
Almost domestic.
Dante pours coffee and slides a mug toward me. Our fingers brush, and something unspoken passes between us again—something soft and dangerous.
