Chapter 10 The North Wing Silence
The North Wing was where the Moretti family buried their secrets and their ghosts. It was a corner of the estate the sun had seemingly abandoned, draped in heavy velvet curtains that smelled of dust and ancient grudges. There were no gardens here, no balconies offering views of the rolling hills only narrow windows reinforced with iron bars and the heavy, rhythmic thud of a guard’s boots echoing in the hallway.
Lisa sat on the edge of a mahogany bed that felt more like a coffin than a place of rest. She had been here for three days. Three days of silence. Three days of cold meals pushed through a slot in the door. Three days of staring at the sonogram she had managed to keep hidden in her bodice, the edges now soft and frayed from her constant touch.
She wasn't just a prisoner; she was a ghost in waiting.
The door groaned on its hinges. Lisa stood up, her heart leaping into her throat. She expected a guard with another tray of flavorless broth, but the silhouette that stepped into the room was broader, taller, and carried an aura of absolute power.
Silvio.
He didn't speak. He walked into the room and closed the door behind him, the click of the lock echoing like a final judgment. He looked different than he had in the garden. The rage had settled into something deeper, something more permanent. He was dressed in a black turtleneck that hid his bandages, making him look like a shadow come to life.
"You haven't eaten," he said, his voice flat. He glanced at the untouched tray on the small table.
"I’m not hungry," Lisa whispered. "It’s hard to eat when you’re waiting for your executioner."
Silvio crossed the room with that slow, predatory gait. He stopped inches from her, the scent of his expensive cologne mixing with the stale air of the room. It was a scent that used to make her feel safe; now, it just made her ache.
"If I wanted you dead, Lisa, you would have been buried under the roses three nights ago," he said. He reached out, his hand hovering near her face before he seemed to catch himself. He dropped his arm to his side, his fist clenching. "I am many things, but I do not kill unborn children. Not even his."
The mention of Dante felt like a physical blow. Lisa took a brave step forward, her eyes searching his. "Silvio, look at me. Please. I never meant to hurt you. Everything I did, every lie I told, was because I was terrified of what you would do to the baby. I didn't know you then. I didn't know you were a man who would take a bullet for me."
"And now you know," Silvio rasped. He reached out then, his hand gripping her chin, forcing her to face the raw intensity in his gaze. "And yet, you still ran to him. You chose the coward who left you over the man who bled for you."
"I didn't choose him!" she cried, her voice cracking. "He blackmailed me! He told me he’d tell you the truth, and I knew I knew you’d hate me."
"I don't hate you," Silvio whispered, his thumb brushing against her lower lip. The touch was electric, a sudden spark of the old heat that burned through the layers of betrayal. "That’s the problem, Lisa. I should hate you. I should throw you to the wolves. But when I look at you, all I want to do is tear the world apart until you’re safe again."
He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. It was a moment of high-tension intimacy, the kind of "monstrous kindness" that made her knees weak. In the dim light of the prison room, the romance felt desperate and dark. He moved his hand from her chin to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him.
Lisa let out a jagged breath. She could feel his heart beating a hard, steady rhythm. She reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the rough stubble. For a moment, the prison disappeared. The lies disappeared. There was only the heat of him and the desperate need to be held.
"Silvio," she breathed, her lips brushing against his.
He groaned, a sound of pure agony, and kissed her. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a claim. It tasted of salt, bourbon, and a possessiveness that bordered on madness. He kissed her as if he could pull the truth out of her lungs, as if he could erase Dante’s ghost from her skin.
Lisa clung to him, her hands tangling in his dark hair. She knew this was dangerous. She knew she was falling for a man who held her in chains, but in his arms, the chains felt like the only thing keeping her from shattering.
Suddenly, Silvio pulled back, his breathing ragged. He looked down at her, his eyes dark with a mixture of desire and disgust. He looked at her stomach, then back at her face, and the wall went back up.
"You stay here," he said, his voice turning back to ice. "My men are scouring the coast. Dante is a dead man walking. And once he is gone we will decide what to do with you."
"Silvio, don't do this," she pleaded. "Don't let him win by turning you into a monster."
"I was always a monster, Lisa," he said, turning toward the door. "You just chose to forget it for a moment."
He left without looking back. As the bolt slid into place, Lisa collapsed onto the bed, her lips still burning from his kiss.
She wasn't alone for long. An hour later, a small rustle at the barred window drew her attention. A thin, folded piece of paper fluttered through the bars, weighted by a small stone.
She scrambled to pick it up.
The North Wing has a blind spot at the east corner. Midnight. Don’t trust Silvio’s 'mercy.' He’s planning to take the baby and dispose of the mother. I’m coming for you.
D.
Lisa crumpled the note, her heart freezing. Dante was still playing his games, sowing seeds of doubt. But as she looked at the heavy oak door Silvio had just locked, she realized she was caught in a web where both sides were spinning lies.
She didn't know who to trust, but as the first stirrings of morning sickness hit her, she knew one thing for certain: she had to get out of this fortress before the brothers turned her into the casualty of their war.