Still no message

Still no message

~ KAIA'S POV ~

After taking a long nap away from those sterile hospital walls, I wake up to the cool settling of evening. The air feels different here, calmer, scented faintly with pine and something rich like polished wood. For a moment I forget where I am, until the sight of the tall curtains, drawn halfway across the windows, reminds me that this isn’t my home. It’s his villa.

I stretch my right arm and push myself upright, testing my balance. My left arm aches dully, a soreness that reminds me it’s still healing. Not unbearable, but constant like a whisper reminding me of that night, of pain, of how close I came to losing everything.

I move slowly toward the bathroom, intending to freshen up, but then it hits me…..my bags still haven’t gotten to me. No clothes, no familiar things to hold on to, just the foreign walls and my thoughts.

I exhale loudly and comb my fingers through my hair, trying to make myself look at least presentable. Somehow, I feel that every movement I make in this place is being silently watched, measured.

It doesn’t feel right to wander the house, or rather, the villa, without a guide. I may be here as a guest, but courtesy demands boundaries. And this villa doesn’t belong to just anyone; it belongs to Vittorio Caruso.

Clicking the door open, I peek into the hallway. Empty. I glance left, then right, searching for the familiar uniforms of housekeepers or the dark suits of guards. Nothing. The silence is thick, broken only by the faint hum of air passing through the vents.

I step out, hesitating only for a moment before heading toward the stairs Carmela and I took earlier. The marble beneath my feet glistens faintly under the warm evening lights. I’ve passed through this hall before, but honestly, it amazes me all over again. Every detail screams wealth and legacy, the carved banisters, the paintings that watch you as you pass, the chandeliers like frozen waterfalls.

“Do you need anything, ma’am?”

The sudden voice makes me stop dead. I turn quickly, my pulse racing, and my eyes land on a young woman. Her gaze is lowered respectfully, her hands clasped in front of her, a feather duster still tucked into the mini apron around her waist. She’s dressed in a neat black uniform, simple but tidy.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she says quickly, her voice tender, almost fearful.

I force myself to relax and smile softly. “No, dear, it’s fine.” I tilt my head slightly. “Where’s Vittorio?”

“In his study,” she answers, voice steady but still careful.

“Please take me there. I need to speak with him,” I say.

Her eyes flicker up for a fraction of a second before she shakes her head. “Sorry, ma’am, but I can’t take you there.”

I frown slightly, though I keep my tone polite. “Why?”

She shifts her weight nervously. “Once Sissignore is in his study, no one dares come in… only in emergencies.”

Oh. Of course. I shouldn’t be surprised. Men of his caliber, men who live in both power and shadow, often carve out no-entry zones in their own homes or rooms that act like fortresses inside fortresses.

“I see. Thank you,” I say, my voice warm, even though disappointment settles in my chest.

She bows her head slightly and moves past me, gliding silently down the corridor like she’s trained not to exist in the eyes of her masters.

I sigh. Since he’s in his study, I’ll just have to wait. Maybe at dinner I’ll see him, and then I can finally ask about my bags.

Back in my room, I sink onto the edge of the bed. For a while I just sit there, listening to the hush of the villa. Then I pick up my phone, scrolling quickly, desperate for a message, a notification, anything from Rodriguez about my baby. My Kai.

But there’s nothing.

Two days. Two entire days since I last heard anything about him. My chest tightens, anger and fear twisting together inside me.

He should at least be human enough. I was shot, I nearly died, yet he doesn’t care. Why would he? To him, I’m just collateral, and Kai… Kai is leverage.

Rodriguez is so blinded by his obsession with destroying Vittorio that he’s forgotten there’s a child in this mess. My child. My little boy who needs me.

I drop the phone onto the bed, my hands trembling. I just want my son back in my arms. That’s all that matters. I don’t care about vendettas, about revenge, about whatever blood-soaked history lies between Rodriguez and Vittorio. I don’t care if one of them wants the other dead. My heart only beats for Kai.

Goodness, I pray he hasn’t harmed him. More than anything, I pray he’s feeding him well, keeping him warm, at least giving him the basics of care.

My throat burns, and before I realize it, tears are slipping down my cheeks. They fall silently, tracing lines down my face as my heart echoes with the sound of Kai’s voice in my head, his laugh, his cry, the way he calls for me.

I press my good hand against my mouth, muffling a sob. The thought of him somewhere far away, scared or hungry, without me to hold him, it breaks me in ways no bullet ever could.

No mother deserves this torment.

And yet here I am, trapped in a villa gilded with wealth and shadows, while my son’s safety hangs in the hands of a man who knows no mercy.