But his hand reaches back between the seats, resting on my knee for a brief second.
Sienna eventually stops crying, but she stays curled against my side, staring blankly out the window. Her hand is still gripping mine tightly, like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.
Every few minutes, I catch Nico’s eyes in the rearview mirror, watching me. He doesn’t look away when our gazes meet.
There’s something protective and possessive in the way he keeps checking on me, and it makes my chest feel strangely warm despite everything.
When we finally arrive back at the estate, I help Sienna out of the car. She looks exhausted, fragile, like the smallest breeze could knock her over. She's lost so much weight.
“This is where I’ve been staying,” I tell her softly as we walk inside and she gives me a curious look. “I’ll explain everything, I promise.”
Nico walks beside us. He turns to Sienna with surprising gentleness.
“You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need,” he says. “I’m sorry for your loss. If you want, we can arrange a proper burial for Domenico, to honor him.”
Sienna’s eyes fill with fresh tears. She nods quickly, her voice small and broken. “You… you would do that?”
“Of course,” Nico replies. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
She whispers a shaky “Thank you,” clutching my arm tighter. Nico gives me a small nod, his eyes lingering on me for a second longer, before he turns and walks away.
A maid appears and leads us to one of the guest rooms that has already been prepared. The moment the door closes behind us, Sienna turns to me, eyes wide and confused.
“Ellie… who are these men? What is going on? Why are you here?”
I take a deep breath. “We have a lot to talk about. But first, maybe you should rest?—”
She shakes her head fiercely. “I can’t rest. Domenico is dead. He’s gone because of me.”
Her voice cracks, and she starts crying again, hard, ugly sobs that shake her whole body. I pull her into my arms immediately, holding her as tightly as I can.
“Shh, it’s going to be okay,” I whisper, rubbing her back. “I’ve got you.”
“No, it’s not,” she sobs into my shoulder. “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t run away with him, if I had just married Gallo like Papa wanted?—”
“Don’t say that,” I cut in firmly, pulling back to look at her. “None of this is your fault. Those men killed Domenico. Not you. You hear me?”
She cries harder, but she nods weakly. After a few minutes, her sobs quiet into soft sniffles. We sit on the edge of the bed, and I keep my arm around her.
When she’s a little calmer, I ask gently, “What happened, Sienna? You were supposed to have left the country.”
She stares at her hands for a long moment, then begins to speak, her voice hoarse and broken.
“We didn’t get far… after we ran. We were supposed to leave the country, but we needed fake passports. Domenico had a guy who promised to help us, but he never showed. He took the money and disappeared. We were duped.”
She lets out a shaky breath, fingers twisting in the blanket.
“We didn’t have enough left for new documents and travel. So, Domenico said we should hide while he tried to find another way. We stayed in cheap motels that only took cash… dirty places with broken locks and loud neighbors.”
I squeeze her arm gently, trying to offer comfort she can’t feel right now.
“Then tonight…” Her voice cracks. “We were staying at this rundown motel on the edge of the city. We thought we were being careful. We paid cash, used fake names.”
She starts crying again, harder this time.
“They came at night. Papa’s men… and some of Gallo’s too. I woke up to gunshots. Domenico grabbed his gun and told me to run.’”
Her whole body trembles as she relives it.
