Chapter 22 -
She took a breath, wondering how much to share. But something about Micheal's open expression, the way he waited patiently without pushing, made her want to talk.
"I grew up in foster care," she began, her voice soft. "My parents died in a car accident when I was seven. One minute I had a family, a home, people who tucked me in at night and made pancakes on Sunday mornings. The next minute, I had nothing."
Micheal's expression sobered, the playfulness fading from his eyes. "I am sorry. That must have been hell."
"It was not great," she admitted. "I bounced around from one foster home to another. Some were okay. Some were..." She shuddered slightly. "Less okay. I learned pretty quickly not to get attached to places or people because nothing was permanent."
"No family at all?" His voice was gentle, genuinely sympathetic. "No aunts or uncles who could take you in?"
Nia shook her head. "My parents were only children. My grandparents were all gone. It was just us, and then it was just me." She paused, then added, "Well, not completely alone. I had the other kids in the system. We looked out for each other. Made our own family, I guess."
"That is why you were so good with Gabriel yesterday morning," Micheal said, understanding dawning in his eyes. "You know what it is like to be a scared kid."
"Yeah." Nia smiled sadly. "I know exactly what it is like."
"What happened after foster care?" Micheal asked. "How did you end up in the city?"
"I aged out of the system at eighteen. Got a job waitressing, saved up enough to rent a tiny apartment that was barely bigger than this bathroom." She gestured around the lavish room. "Worked my way through community college. Made a life for myself. Nothing fancy, but it was mine, you know? I earned every bit of it."
"And then you met Alex," Micheal said quietly.
The name sent a pang through her chest. "And then I met Alex," she repeated. "I thought I had finally found what I had been looking for my whole life. A person who would stay. Someone who chose me." She laughed bitterly. "Turns out I was wrong about that."
Micheal was quiet for a moment, watching her with those perceptive blue eyes. "For what it is worth, he is an idiot. And I say that as someone who has made plenty of idiotic decisions myself."
"Thank you," Nia said, meaning it. "But honestly? After everything that has happened, Alex feels like ancient history. Like someone I knew in another lifetime."
"Fair enough." Micheal took a sip of his water. "So, no family then. Just you against the world."
"Not completely alone," Nia corrected, her face brightening slightly. "I have Isadora. My best friend. She lives two doors down from me, or lived, I guess. I do not know if I will ever see that apartment again."
"Tell me about her," Micheal prompted, settling back in his chair.
"Isa is..." Nia smiled, a real smile this time. "She is everything. Sister, mother, best friend, all rolled into one. She took me under her wing when I first moved into the building. I was this scared, lonely girl who did not know anyone, and she just adopted me. Started inviting me over for dinner, teaching me to cook, listening to me complain about work. She is the only family I have got."
"She must be worried sick about you," Micheal said softly.
The words hit Nia like a physical blow. She had been trying so hard not to think about Isa, about what her friend must be going through. "She saw them take me. Well, she heard me scream for her. She probably thinks I am dead by now."
"Maybe not," Micheal said. "Maybe she is out there right now, turning the city upside down looking for you. Raising hell. Refusing to give up."
Nia felt tears prick at her eyes. "That sounds like Isa."
"When you get out of here," Micheal said, and Nia noticed he said when, not if, "you can tell her all about your stay at the DeSanto bed and breakfast. One star review, terrible hospitality, the host threatened to chain the guests to their beds."
Despite everything, Nia laughed. It felt good, that release of tension, the brief moment of normalcy. "You are not like your brothers, are you?"
"Is that a compliment or an insult?"
"I have not decided yet."
Micheal grinned. "I will take it. But yeah, I am the black sheep. Or the blonde sheep, I guess. Leo is all duty and control, Christian is all brooding and violence. I am just trying to figure out who the hell I am in the middle of all their drama."
"That must be hard," Nia said. "Being the youngest in a family like this."
"You have no idea." Micheal ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more. "But we do what we have to do to survive, right? You learned that in foster care. I learned it here. Different cages, same survival instincts."
Nia studied him, seeing him in a new light. Beneath the jokes and the easy charm, there was pain there. Loneliness. He understood more than she had given him credit for.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For talking to me like I am a person. For not treating me like a problem or a prisoner."
"Any time." Micheal stood, stretching. "And hey, if you ever need to talk, or need someone to sneak you contraband snacks, or just need a friendly face, I am your guy. We foster kids have to stick together, right?"
Nia felt warmth bloom in her chest. An ally. A real one. "Right."
He headed for the door, then paused with his hand on the handle. "For what it is worth, I think you are going to be okay, Nia Wallace. You are tougher than you look. And in this family, that is the highest compliment I can give."
After he left, Nia sat in the quiet of her room, feeling lighter than she had in days. She had Lucia. She had Micheal. She was not as alone as she had thought.
But as the afternoon wore on and the shadows lengthened, a commotion in the hallway pulled her from her thoughts. Raised voices, quick footsteps.
She moved to the door and pressed her ear against it.
"Where have you been?" Matteo's voice, tight with barely controlled panic. "I have been looking everywhere. Do you have any idea what the boss will do if he finds out I lost track of her?"
"Relax, Matteo." That was Lucia, calm and soothing. "She was with me. I took her for a walk. She needed air."
"You cannot do that!" Matteo's voice rose. "The boss specifically said she is not to leave her room without permission. He is going to have my head for this. Do you understand? My head."
"Oh, come on." Micheal's voice joined in, casual and unbothered. "We will not tell if you do not tell. What Leo does not know will not hurt him. Or you."
There was a pause, then Matteo's heavy sigh. "This cannot happen again, Miss Wallace."
Nia opened the door a crack, peering out. Matteo stood there, his usually composed face creased with worry. His dark eyes landed on her, and she saw the conflict there. Duty versus compassion.
"I understand," Nia said softly, meeting his gaze. "I am sorry I put you in a difficult position. It will not happen again."
Matteo looked at her for a long moment, then nodded stiffly. "See that it does not. I have a family to feed, Miss Wallace. I cannot lose this job."
"I know," she said. "And I really am sorry."
Something in Matteo's expression softened, just a fraction. "You are not what I expected," he admitted quietly.
"What did you expect?"
"Someone weaker. Someone who would have broken by now." He glanced at Lucia and Micheal, then back to Nia. "But you are still standing. Still fighting. That takes strength."
"Or stupidity," Nia said with a weak smile.
"Maybe both." For the first time, Matteo's lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. "But just so we are clear, Miss Wallace. No more adventures. No more tours. You stay put, or I will have to report it. And I really would rather not."
"Understood."
Matteo nodded once more, then resumed his post outside her door, his face settling back into its professional mask.
Lucia caught Nia's eye and mouthed, "Tonight. Dinner. Be strong."
Nia nodded, and the door closed once more.
She leaned against it, her mind racing. She had allies now. Real ones. People who saw her as human, not just leverage.
But she also had enemies. And at the top of that list was the man who held all the power.
Leonardo DeSanto.
And tonight, at dinner, she would have to face him again.
The thought sent equal parts dread and something else, something she refused to name, coiling through her stomach.
She had a few hours to prepare.
A few hours to build her armor.
Because she had a feeling that tonight was going to change everything.