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My life didn’t flash before my eyes. Instead the whole world pulled back like a curtain and I rose quickly to the surface.
The air smelled of cherry blossoms. The sun dripped like honey from my naked skin.
I stood in the sea with the villa on the hill before me. It was summer still and the sand glittered white and faded to gray where the water lapped gently over it.
I heard her voice on the wind. So soft, like the touch of her hair falling over my lips. My eyes moved hungrily, unable to focus on anything but a hazy figure.
I blinked.
It shifted into focus and I saw her, standing on the shore.
Waiting for me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
OLIVIA
Five Days Later
With Cosimo by my side, I stood in the driveway of our childhood home. The vines had been torn away from the mansion’s walls and the fountain bubbled. My rose garden had been demolished and in its place was a large patio with a firepit. Otherwise, everything looked exactly the same.
My mother had moved out three years ago and the house was given to Cosimo via abandonment. I hadn’t known it, but he’d been updating it with the intention of selling it and splitting the money with me.
A sort of inheritance.
It was all I had now. When I’d returned from the island in a panic, there was nothing left of Lucien and I’s beloved home. The grounds where the house my husband had built for me stood were scorched and peppered with bullets. The flower garden was soaked in blood.
Instead of trying to fix Riccardo Mezzasalma’s house, I’d ordered Lucien’s men to burn it to the ground. We would sell the land and start over somewhere else.
Cosimo had flown in the day after Lucien disappeared. The boys were still asleep upstairs, but Marco heard me scream and came running. He saw my face, he saw how badly my hands shook, and he went white.
I pulled myself together. I had to, Lucien had taught me there was nothing more important than learning to control myself. So I made myself stop crying even though the tears felt like vomit forcing its way up my throat. Without speaking, I ushered Marco and Cosimo into the kitchen. They sat at the table. I looked around. I needed something to do with my shaking hands.
My eyes fell on the kettle. Maybe tea would help?
“Is dad dead?” Marco whispered.
I bit back the sob rising in my throat. “No, he’s not dead. He’s just missing.”
“So…let me go find him,” Marco demanded, shooting to his feet.
“No,” I said. “I’m going to the city to find him. Marco, I need you to take over here. Enza will stay with you, but you have to watch and protect your brothers.”
He hated that, but he obeyed. That afternoon, Cosimo and I flew into the city. I didn’t speak the entire time, but deep inside there was a burning rage.
My first memory was of being starved and humiliated. My brain and body had been formed by abuse. I’d been bullied until I was small and afraid and breakable. Lucien had stopped that abuse, he’d broken the cycle.
He had breathed life back into me.
I would be damned if anyone took my husband from me. He was mine and if anyone laid a hand on him, if anyone had hurt him, I would take a page out of my husband’s book and bury them. I’d killed once in self-defense, I’d been chased to the other side of the world. The part of me that felt guilt for protecting myself was dead.
I left the boys with Enza and for the first time in a year, I boarded a boat and headed to the mainland. Back in the city, Cosimo took me to the grounds where our home had once stood. I was still in my wrap dress and sandals and the fabric did nothing to protect me from the cool wind.
But the fire inside did.
Seeing it was like being kicked in the stomach. I stood with my arms wrapped around my body and listened to my heart thump in my chest. Tender and aching. This place was part of my life, of my family’s history. But now it looked like a battlefield.
I cleared my throat and lifted my chin.
