Chapter 154 Fiorella
The moment Rocco walked out, the door didn’t just close.
It felt like it took the air with it.
I stood there in the centre of my room for a few seconds, even though it was empty, even though the night was colder than I'd anticipated, my heart still racing from the confrontation. The wind tugged at my hair, but the real cold was inside me.
Then I finally exhaled. A sharp, shaky breath.
He's gone.
Rocco is gone.
And the look on his face…
I don't think I would ever forget it.
Not anger.
Not hate.
Something worse.
Hurt.
The kind that cuts deeper because you know you caused it.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying not to fall apart in the open like some coward. I was raised to have a spine made of steel. My father taught me to stare down men with guns pointed at me. My mother taught me never to show weakness in front of enemies.
But tonight isn't about enemies.
Tonight, I broke the heart of the only man I ever let close enough to hurt me.
I am completely alone when the door to my room closes behind me.
And all the strength I'd been clinging to starts to crack.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, hands covering my mouth, and breathe in harsh, uneven drags.
I'm not weak.
I'm not fragile.
But I am scared.
And the fear manages to slip through the cracks before I can stop it.
Silence is thick. Not peaceful, suffocating.
I run my hand through my hair, pacing my bedroom. Every few steps, my breath hitches-like my lungs aren't working right.
What if he hates me now?
What if this is unforgivable?
What if our future together, our engagement-is over?
The ring he gave me feels like a weight on my finger, almost burning. I stare at it, thumb grazing over the band. It used to make me feel warm every time I looked at it.
Now, it seems like proof of something that I broke.
The tears well up before I can even stop them.
Hot. Angry. Silent at first. Not so silent when my throat tightens and the sob forces itself out anyway.
I sit again, covering my face with both hands as my shoulders shake.
I did what I had to do to save my mother.
Any daughter brought up in this world would do just the same.
But Rocco isn't any man.
He's proud, ruthless, loyal to the bone. His family is everything to him.
And I betrayed that family.
I press the heels of my palms against my eyes until it hurts.
What if he never looks at me the same way again?
What if this engagement gets called off?
The thought hits me so hard, I stop breathing.
I wanted this life with him.
I wanted him.
All of him, his shadows, his darkness, even his temper. I wanted to stand beside him like an equal, like a partner.
Not like a liability.
But tonight… tonight, I became exactly that.
I sit there crying, not knowing how much time is passing-minutes, hours. Long enough that my throat is raw and my eyes sting.
I hate crying.
I hate losing control.
But the more I try to stop, the harder the fear hits.
What if I chose wrongly?
What if saving my mother cost me everything else?
I wipe at my cheeks with the back of my hand, trying to steady my breathing, but I’m shaking. It’s infuriating.
“Pull yourself together,” I whisper to myself, “You’re not a child.”
But even I don’t believe my own voice right now.
I stand, pacing once more, trying to outrun the panic. Trying to remember who I am.
Fiorella De Luca.
Daughter of one of the most feared families in Italy.
Raised to be sharp, unforgiving, strategic.
Not a girl who falls apart because he walked away.
Except that he's not just my fiancé.
He's Rocco.
And somewhere between the fights, and the tension, and the heat, and the way he held me as if I were something precious-somewhere in there, I let myself love him.
And loving him makes it so much worse.
Click Here:
My phone vibrates on the nightstand.
I jump.
My pulse spikes.
For half a second, stupid hope takes over, that it's Rocco.
It isn't.
A name flashes on the screen, and I go cold to the bone.
NEK.
My stomach tightens so violently, I feel nauseous.
I take the phone with trembling fingers and open the message.
Nek:
Well done, Fiorella.
Your betrayal was perfectly carried out.
The routes you gave will be put to good use.
As promised, the antidote has been given to your mother.
She will remain with us for a few weeks while everything is set.
After that, she will be returned safely.
You did the right thing.
A sick, hot wave of emotion crashes through me.
Outrage.
Executed perfectly.
These words just make me want to throw my phone across the room.
He’s praising me.
Congratulating me.
Like I'm his ally.
Like I'm proud of what I did.
My hands curl into fists.
For one moment, anger slices through the panic, as sharp as any blade. I am angry at Nek. I am angry at his smirk, his voice, his sense of control over me.
But the worst part?
The part that hurts the most?
The part that makes my throat close?
He is the only one who can return my mother to me. And he knows it. I sink slowly to the floor, back against the bed, phone still in my hand, my breathing unsteady. My mother has the antidote. She’s alive because of what I did. I did that. I saved her. But at what cost?
Again, my chest tightens. I wipe my face with shaking fingers, staring at the message. “I hope this wasn’t for nothing,” I whisper. My voice cracks. “I hope I didn’t destroy everything.” My mother. Rocco. The future I thought I had. My place in his world. My place in mine.
I lay my head against my knees and let the fear settle into something heavier, something that sits in the blood: An awful, smothering uncertainty. I saved a person I love. But I may have lost the other.