Chapter 42 Chapter 42

Chapter 42 Chapter 42
Sebastian 
I had been through hell.
That day when the Bratva came to the godfather’s mansion, I knew it was over. They didn’t just want me, they wanted to break me. They took me away, not to kill me, but to make me one of them. They said if I refused, they’d slaughter the godfather… and Lily.
So I left.
I disappeared into the cold, bloodstained hands of the Russian mafia. Tortured. Controlled. Forced to create masterplans, maps, war strategies… but they failed to make me theirs. No matter how much they broke my bones or kept me in the dark, they couldn't change who I am.
I’m Sebastian Manchini. And I don’t bend.
It took six months. Six months of pain, of blood, of war. But Dante came for me, with all our Sicilian men, with Antonio watching his back. My brothers, my blood. Together, the two of us destroyed the Bratva base from the inside out. It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t easy. But it was done.
And all this time, I never stopped thinking about her.
When I was locked away, I found a way to send coded messages to the godfather. Tiny phrases hidden in innocuous letters, asking about the city I left, about my family, about her. Lily.
I never thought I’d live to come back. The godfather held a funeral. My people buried a casket in my name… but I wasn’t inside. Just the ghost of me.
Dante told me Lily grew close to him after I disappeared.
But he didn’t say how close.
And I couldn’t ask.
Because what if the answer wrecked me?
What if she touched him the way she touched me, slow, with trembling fingers like she was memorizing every line of my skin?
What if she kissed him the way she used to kiss me, soft and hungry, like she was trying to breathe me in?
My mind is at war.
Part of me tells myself she needed comfort.
Another part rages, how could she?
But I left. I let her believe I was dead.
I did it to protect her. I had to.
And now my wife—my wife—escaped from that life. From the blood. From the name Manchini.
She buried the past, buried me, and rewrote herself into someone new.
But she doesn’t get to forget.
She doesn’t get to run forever.
Because the man she thought she lost… is standing in the shadows tonight, watching her glow under fairy lights, wondering who she became without him.
And maybe, just maybe, wondering if she still belongs to him.
Said she moved in silence, then vanished completely after a fight. No one could find her. She didn’t want to be found.
Until… she published Sweet Poison.
A fan posted a video during her book signing, and there she was. Her voice. Her smile. A new name. Daisy Mio.
But I knew her. My Lily.
I flew to California the moment I saw the video. No second thoughts. No hesitation. I bought a ticket to her event. Not to confront her. Just to see her.
Now I sit here, away from all the people, in the shadows under a palm tree where the fairy lights don’t reach. I wear all black, blending into the night. My fingers loosely wrapped around a glass of whiskey.
And then she arrives.
She walks in like she owns the world. A long dark green dress hugging her like a second skin. Her lips painted in a soft, dark nude color. Her nails manicured, her expression serene. And bangs, she has bangs now. Dio mio, she looks so sexy it physically hurts.
She plays the violin. Something she must’ve learned recently. The melody drifts through the garden like magic. It soothes the part of me that’s still bleeding.
I can’t stop watching her. Her smile. The way she speaks to people. How gentle she looks, how confident she’s become. And I miss her. I miss kissing her lips.
I sip my whiskey again.
How dare she run from me? How dare she build this life alone, like she wasn’t mine? She is mine. Only mine.
Then she steps on the stage one last time.
“I would like to present to you all my poem related to my latest book too.”
I don’t even like poems. I don’t like fairytales, or soft words. But this, this was different.
She doesn’t read. She recites. From memory.
Every word is about me. About us. About the nights she spent crying in silence, the grief she swallowed, the lies she told herself to survive. Her voice cracks but she keeps going.
“Tell my mafia king I miss him during all the heavy nights.”
She says that. Out loud. And the crowd doesn’t know. But I know. I am her mafia king.
The evening closes. Her poem echoes in my mind like a heartbeat.
People start leaving. Some take pictures with her. Some ask her to sign Sweet Poison. She smiles, she laughs, she shines.
But I wait.
I sit in the dark and I wait.
When the garden is almost empty, she takes off her heels and walks barefoot through the grass, her dress swaying. She starts switching off the fairy lights one by one.
And when she’s near enough, I speak.
“Lily.”
She freezes. Instantly.
She knows my voice. Of course she does.
She kneels near the light switch and I can see her trembling. She stands up slowly, her back still to me.
And then she turns.
Her eyes widen like she’s seeing a ghost.
But I’m not a ghost.
I’m back.
“Sebastian Manchini,” she whispers.
“Daisy Mio.” I chuckle bitterly, letting her fake name roll off my tongue like poison. I down the last of my whiskey, the burn in my throat nothing compared to the fire in my chest.
I stand up. My boots crunch softly over the grass as I close the distance between us.
She still hasn’t moved.
She looks like she’s frozen in time, barefoot, fairy lights dimming behind her, hair falling over her face, that damn green dress hugging her body like a memory I never got to keep.
I reach her.
I grip her chin, firm and unshaking, forcing her to look at me. Forcing her to see me.
“Why did you run?” I ask, my voice low, strained. “You knew I was alive. Then why run, Lily?”
Silence.
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, but her lips are sealed.
My jaw tightens. The rage, the confusion, the heartbreak, it all bubbles in my chest.
“I want a fucking answer, god damn.” My voice breaks the quiet, louder than I mean it to be. The words echo between the trees.
Her lips tremble as she whispers, “I needed space.”
Her voice is so soft, it doesn’t match the fire I see in her eyes.
“You people were treating me like a doll,” she continues, and her voice starts to rise. “Take me here and there. Married me just because of a debt I didn’t owe.”
She’s shaking now, not from fear, but from something deeper. Something broken.
“And you disappeared when I fucking needed you.”
Her voice cracks.
And then the tears fall.
One by one.
She doesn’t look away this time. Doesn’t hide.
She lets me see her pain. All of it.
And for the first time tonight… I don’t feel like a king. I feel like the reason my queen lost her crown.