After ten minutes, I stepped out of the bathroom.My heart sank when I saw I wasn’t alone.
He was standing there.
Nicola.
He smiled — warm, fake, practiced.
“Good evening, sweetheart.How are you?”he said, stepping forward.His arms wrapped around me before I could react, pulling me against him.
I froze.
Vito D’Angelo.
The man who’s supposed to love me, protect me, do anything to keep me safe — stood in front of me, acting like a father when he wasn’t one.The most he ever did was take me out for walks around the estate, pretending that counted as care.
Vito D’Angelo — “the most dangerous American mobster,” or so he liked to say.I never believed it.He bragged about his power, but everyone knew he was losing his grip.The name D’Angelo was always on the news, always in whispers, and I hated hearing it.I hated that it was mine too.
“Sweetie,” he said, rubbing my arm while pulling me into a half-embrace, “I thought I told you before — you’re blessed with a beautiful voice.Use it.”
His hand burned through the fabric of my shirt.I flinched, pressing against his chest, fighting the urge to push him off.
My eyes welled up.Everything I’d lost — Alessandro, freedom, myself — it all traced back to him.He’d ruined everything.He might’ve been my father by blood, but I couldn’t call him that anymore.He didn’t deserve it.
“I-I’m sorry, Des— Dad.I’m fine,” I said quietly, forcing the words out before stepping away and turning my face aside.
“Ariana,” D’Angelo said, voice sharp enough to make me jump.I looked up quickly.“Your mother has something to tell you.She’s waiting in her room.Go see her.”
My stomach dropped.I already knew what that meant — whatever my mother had to say wasn’t hers to say.He was making her speak for him again.
“Is...is she okay?”I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
He nodded and set a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“Of course, dearie.Come, I’ll take you to her.She’s perfectly fine.”
He started leading me toward the door, but stopped halfway and turned back.His tone shifted, cold and deliberate.
“Listen carefully to what your mother says, and don’t disappoint me.I’d hate to take away what you have now.”
What I have now?
I had nothing.I didn’t even care what he threatened anymore — not as long as Mom was safe.
We walked down the long main hallway toward D’Angelo’s room.The house didn’t feel like home anymore.Nicola’s men were posted everywhere, lining each corridor, rifles slung and eyes sharp.Since Nicola had moved in, the place had become a fortress — or a prison, depending on who you asked.
When we reached D’Angelo’s door, my stomach twisted.I didn’t know what kind of state my mom was in, and the thought of seeing her hurt again made me sick.
He opened the door and stepped in first.I followed.
For a second, I froze — my heart easing just a little.Mom looked...well.For the first time in years, she looked healthy.
Valentina Vallezi.My mother.My reason to keep breathing.I still thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
She lifted her head the moment I entered.Her eyes met mine — warm, soft — then dimmed with something I couldn’t read.Sadness.Fear.Resignation.
She smiled, but it faded as soon as D’Angelo spoke.
“Valentina,” he said firmly.I glanced back and saw him give her a small nod — like he was granting permission.She nodded back, hesitantly, then looked at me again.That same smile — gentle, trying to hide the pain.
