Chapter 37 -
They stared at each other, years of resentment and unspoken pain crackling between them. Brothers who had been forged in the same fire but had come out so differently. Leo was trying desperately to break the cycle; Christian was too damaged to believe it was possible.
"Gabriel is not a soldier," Leo said finally, his voice firm. "He is a little boy. And for once in this godforsaken family, can we please let a child just be a child?"
Christian's throat worked. "And when something happens? When enemies come for him because they know he is weak? What then?"
"Then I will protect him." Leo's words were a vow. "I will protect him with my life if I have to. But I will not rob him of his innocence. Not yet. Not when there is still hope he can have something better."
"Hope." Christian laughed bitterly. "You are a fool, Leo. Hope is for people who do not know any better."
"Then I am a fool." Leo met his brother's eyes steadily. "But at least I am trying."
The fight drained out of Christian's posture. He looked suddenly exhausted, older than his years. "Fine. Do it your way. Coddle the boy. But when it all falls apart, do not say I did not warn you."
He pushed past everyone, heading for the door. Lucia moved to follow, but Leo caught her arm. "Let him go," he said gently. "He needs time to cool down."
"He needs therapy," Lucia said with a watery laugh. "We all do."
Micheal, who had been silent throughout the confrontation, finally spoke up. "Well, that was fun. Who wants to start drinking at three in the afternoon? Show of hands?"
Despite everything, Nia felt her lips twitch. Leave it to Micheal to try to diffuse tension with humor. Leo turned to her, his gray eyes searching her face. "You should not have come here. It was dangerous."
"Gabriel was scared. I could not just leave him."
Something softened in Leo's expression. "You have a good heart, Nia Wallace. Too good for this place."
Before she could respond, Gabriel himself appeared in the doorway, Matteo right behind him looking stressed. The little boy's eyes were red from crying, his face blotchy.
"Uncle Nardo?" His voice was so small. "Are you and Papa done fighting?"
Leo was across the room in seconds, kneeling in front of his nephew and pulling him into a hug. "We are done, piccolo. I promise. Everything is okay now."
Gabriel hugged him back fiercely, his small body shaking. "I do not like it when you fight. It scares me."
"I know. I am sorry." Leo pulled back, using his thumbs to wipe away Gabriel's tears. "How about this? You, me, and Uncle Micheal go get some ice cream. Just the three of us. Would you like that?"
Gabriel nodded, sniffling. "Can Miss Nia come too?"
Leo's eyes flicked to Nia, something unreadable passing through them. "If she wants to."
All eyes turned to her. Lucia gave her an encouraging nod. Micheal grinned. And Gabriel looked at her with such hope that she could not possibly say no.
"Ice cream sounds perfect," Nia said softly.
Gabriel beamed, and just like that, the tension in the room eased. Not gone completely, but manageable. As they filed out of the destroyed study, Lucia caught Nia's hand, squeezing it briefly. "Thank you," she whispered. "For standing up for Gabriel. For saying what needed to be said."
"Anyone would have done the same."
"No." Her smile was sad. "They would not have. You are different, Nia. Do not let this place take that away from you."
Nia did not know how to respond to that, so she just squeezed back and followed Leo and Gabriel down the hallway. Matteo fell into step beside her, his expression carefully neutral. "You have guts, Miss Wallace. I will give you that."
"Or stupidity. I have not decided which."
"Maybe both." He almost smiled. "But for what it is worth, what you said in there needed to be said. Someone needed to remind them what really matters."
As they walked through the mansion, Gabriel chattering excitedly about his favorite ice cream flavors, Nia caught Leo watching her from the corner of his eye. There was something in his gaze that made her heart stutter. Gratitude, maybe. Or something deeper.
Whatever it was, it complicated everything.
The breakfast had been chaos. Christian and Leo at each other's throats. Gabriel crying. Lucia's mascara streaked down her pale cheeks like war paint. And Nia, standing in the middle of it all, wondering how a simple comment about a five-year-old's training had escalated into threats of fratricide.
Now, an hour later, Lucia was pulling her through the mansion's corridors with a determination that bordered on reckless. Her grip on Nia's wrist was firm, her heels clicking against marble with a staccato rhythm that matched Nia's racing pulse.
"Lucia, where are we going?" Nia asked, half-jogging to keep up with the other woman's longer stride.
"Away from testosterone and stupidity," Lucia said without looking back. "Trust me, you need this."
They turned down a hallway Nia had not explored before. The walls here were different—less ornate and more practical, as if someone had decided function mattered more than showing off generational wealth. The portraits were missing, replaced by tall windows that let in streams of afternoon light.
Lucia stopped in front of a set of double doors: dark wood with heavy brass handles. She glanced back, and something in her amber eyes had shifted. The tears were gone, replaced by something sharper—almost conspiratorial.
"What Leo does not know," she said, pushing the doors open, "will not hurt him."
The library stole Nia's breath. It was massive, but not in the ostentatious way the rest of the mansion was. It felt earned, as if someone had actually read every single book lining the walls instead of buying them by the pound to impress visitors. Floor-to-ceiling shelves stretched in every direction, packed so tightly Nia could smell the paper, leather, and dust. Sunlight poured through windows she had not realized were there, catching motes of dust that danced like tiny stars.
"Holy hell," Nia whispered.
Lucia smiled. It was a real smile this time, not the brittle thing she usually wore at dinner. "This is my sanctuary. The only place in this godforsaken house where I can breathe."
She moved deeper into the room, trailing her fingers along spines as she passed. Nia followed, drawn by the sheer impossibility of it all. There had to be thousands of books here—tens of thousands—organized by subject and then author. Someone had taken care with this collection; someone had loved it.
"Does Leo know you come here?" Nia asked, her voice hushed. Libraries demanded quiet, and it felt wrong to speak at full volume surrounded by so many stories.
"Of course he knows. It is his library." Lucia pulled a slim volume from a shelf, examined it, then replaced it. "He just does not know I bring people here. Especially not prisoners he is trying to keep isolated."
"So why bring me?"