They see eachother

They see eachother

~ VITTORIO'S POV ~

“Signore, dinner is ready,” one of the kitchen assistants informs me as I step out of my study.

Her tone is respectful, cautious, as if every syllable she speaks is weighed before release.

“Inform Eirlys.” I instruct.

The assistant’s eyes flicker for just a fraction of a second, betraying her uncertainty. She doesn’t know who I mean, not by name. But if she has any wit at all, she’ll connect the dots. There is only one woman new in this villa, one who matters to me right now.

She nods quickly and scurries off.

I walk to the living hall, each step measured, my mind already on what is about to unfold.

Giovanni enters at that very moment with Elena at his side.

Her countenance is brighter than earlier, lit up as though some invisible weight has been lifted. She moves with a lightness that both relieves me and tears at me. She jumps, almost skipping into the room, like a ten year old handed the birthday gift of her dreams.

Enzo, her bodyguard, follows silently behind, his broad arms burdened with five shopping bags.

Elena had loathed it when I placed Enzo at her side, shadowing her wherever she went. She thought it was control, punishment. Maybe she still does. Maybe it only added fuel to the fire of her resentment. But what choice did I have? She wants freedom, but I cannot allow recklessness. Not with enemies lurking, circling like vultures. They fall beneath my feet one by one, yet that does not stop them from plotting anew.

Enzo carries the bags off to her room while Elena, glowing with gratitude. She turns and hugs Giovanni tightly.

“Thank you, Uncle Gio,” she says, her voice sweet, genuine.

The words stab me clean through the chest.

I feel hurt. Deeply. My daughter’s appreciation, her joy, her warmth, given so freely to another man. To my brother. She doesn’t spare me a glance, not as her father. Not as the man who would burn this entire world to ash for her.

But it doesn’t matter. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. Whether I bleed or not, what’s important is that she is happy. Her happiness outweighs everything else.

I step forward.

“Dinner is ready,” I say as I reach Giovanni.

Elena’s brightness dims instantly. Her lips tighten, her eyes shift to me with the same frost as always.

“Great, I’m famished already,” Giovanni cuts in, sparing her from having to respond to me. He heads toward the dining area, leaving me and Elena standing opposite each other in a silence thick with all the words she refuses to say.

Her glare sears me. She restrains herself, but I can feel it, I can feel everything she wants to unleash at me is burning behind those eyes.

Those eyes…just like her mother’s.

“Come have….” I begin, but the words collapse in my throat as she walks past me, brushing by as though I am nothing but air.

I clench my fist, forcing my breathing steady.

Soon, when she sees Eirlys, perhaps her rage will cool.

I follow into the dining room and take my place at the crown of the table, the seat that has always been mine. Giovanni sits to my left, Elena beside him, her body angled as though she wishes to put him between us like a shield.

“Eirlys should be here any moment,” I whisper in my thoughts, anticipation stirring in my chest.

Claire and the kitchen assistant glide in with the meal, silver dishes gleaming as they are set upon the table. Aromas rise immediately, roast, herbs, the kind of richness that fills a room with warmth whether welcome or not.

Giovanni is first to lift his fork, his manner casual, unbothered. Elena mirrors him, every movement precise, elegant.

I follow more slowly, though my focus is not on food. My thoughts are fixed on the entrance, waiting for her to walk in.

“Next time, please bring Aunt Mira along. She’s missing out on all the fun,” Elena says softly to Giovanni.

Her tone is light, but it twists inside me. That softness should have been mine to hear.

“Yes, sure. Next time I’ll bring her along,” Giovanni answers.

And then….

Eirlys walks in.

For a single second, her eyes catch mine, steady, searching. Then they dart to Elena.

Her breath snags.

“You?” she gasps, her voice breaking into the silence.

Her gaze is locked on Elena.

The air in the dining room freezes. Giovanni pauses mid-bite, staring between them, curiosity flickering in his expression. I lean back slowly, my heart pounding not with fear, but with something else entirely….recognition.

Elena blinks rapidly, her fork clattering against the porcelain plate. Her chest rises and falls sharply, her lips parting in disbelief.

Her hand goes to her mouth. “It’s you…” she whispers, her voice trembling with shock.

Tears pool instantly in her eyes. She shoots up from her chair, the sound of wood scraping violently against the marble.

Giovanni stiffens, his brows furrowed, clearly taken aback. But I already know.

Elena’s breaths quicken as she takes a shaky step forward. “You’re the one… you’re the lady from that day.” she chokes, her voice breaking with emotion.

Her hands tremble, her eyes wide with both recognition and awe, as though she’s seeing a miracle.

Eirlys stands frozen near the doorway, her lips parting, but no sound escapes her. Her chest heaves, her gaze still locked onto my daughter.

Tears flows down Elena's eyes, her eyes are no longer restrained, no longer cold. “You’re real,” she sobs. “You’re really here.”

I clench my jaw, my throat tightening at the sight.

The woman I had misjudged, the woman I had thought was ungrateful, she is the one who risked her life for my child.

And now the truth stands between us all, undeniable, breaking down walls in an instant.

Giovanni wears a confused and stunned look on his face with his fork half way to his mouth.