19

**Kai's POV**

She looked away. "I’ll stay in the car."

"It’s just a family dinner, and you’re not safe in the car," I said, trying to sound reasonable.

"That’s exactly why I should stay here. I have no business being at your family dinner," she shot back, her tone sharp.

I sighed in frustration, my patience wearing thin. "Amelia," I said, my voice calm but leaving no room for argument. "This isn’t a suggestion. Get out of the car. Now."

She stared at me for a long moment, clearly debating whether to argue further. Then, with a frustrated sigh, she unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out.

The second we stepped into the mansion, I could feel Amelia’s irritation practically radiating off her. She trailed behind me, dragging her feet like a kid being forced to do chores. Not that I cared—it’s not like she wanted to be here, and honestly, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about it either.

The place was huge—ornate chandeliers, shiny floors you could probably see your reflection in, and walls covered with art that screamed expensive. I caught the way Amelia’s eyes darted around, taking it all in. She didn’t say anything, but her posture told me she felt out of place. Couldn’t blame her. This house didn’t feel like home; it felt like a museum with rules about touching stuff. I hate coming here.

Then Natasha walked out of the kitchen, smiling like she hadn’t just spent the past year giving me grief over my “disappearing act.” Oven mitts still on, her face lit up when she saw me.

“Is that really Kai, or am I hallucinating?” she teased, her grin widening.

“Maybe,” I muttered, scooping up my niece when she came running. I might’ve been in a terrible mood, but I couldn’t ignore her.

“It’s been forever since you last showed up here,” Natasha started, her voice playful, but then she froze mid-sentence when she noticed Amelia lingering near the door. Her curiosity was instant, and I hated how obvious it was.

“And who’s this lovely guest?” Natasha asked, her gaze shifting between me and Amelia.

I turned to see who she was talking about, like Amelia wasn’t the only other person here. “She works for me,” I said flatly. “Told her to come have dinner.”

Natasha ignored my tone and beamed at Amelia. “Hi there! I’m Natasha, Kai’s older sister. And you are?”

“Amelia,” she replied, her expression as bored as humanly possible. If she was trying to avoid a chat, Natasha wasn’t getting the hint.

“Welcome, Amelia,” Natasha said warmly, gesturing toward the dining table. “Dinner’s almost ready—make yourself comfortable.”

Amelia managed a fake smile before heading toward the table, plopping down like she’d rather be anywhere else.

After a while, Natasha returned with a tray of food, the smell filling the room. I sat down next to Amelia, my niece perched on my lap.

“This is spaghetti carbonara and chicken parmigiana,” Natasha announced like she was on a cooking show. “One of my favorites—and Kai’s, back when he still had good taste.”

Amelia muttered a quick “thanks” before focusing on her plate. For a second, I thought she might actually relax.

That’s when he walked in.

The atmosphere shifted immediately—Don Alessandro. My father. His presence alone could crush whatever fleeting sense of peace we had. Natasha’s cheerful energy drained in an instant, and the room got uncomfortably quiet.

He took a seat at the table, his expression unreadable as always. Flashing a fake smile at Amelia, he said, “And you are?”

“Uh…Amelia,” she replied, clearly caught off guard.

“You’re welcome here,” he said, still smiling that cold, calculating smile of his.

The meal dragged on in silence, the tension thick enough to choke on. Natasha looked like she’d rather be anywhere else, Amelia avoided eye contact, and I kept my face neutral. I was used to this—the suffocating atmosphere he carried everywhere.

Finally, I broke the silence. “So, you’re getting a divorce?”

Natasha’s head shot up, her confusion evident. “What divorce? I’m not—”

My father cut her off with a casual shrug. “I told him that so he’d come home. It’s been too long since we’ve all been together.”

I didn’t even wait for him to finish. I shoved my chair back and walked out. I couldn’t stand another second at that table.

“Kai!” Natasha called, chasing after me. “Can’t you at least wait until dinner’s over?”

I stopped at the door, turning to face her. “When are you actually getting a divorce?”

Natasha hesitated, her voice dropping. “I…need time.”

I sighed and turned to leave again, but her next words stopped me cold.

“You fired your doctor.”

I didn’t respond right away. “I’m fine,” I said finally, my tone clipped.

“No, you’re not,” she snapped, her frustration clear. “It’s getting worse, and you know it.”

“I said I’m fine,” I repeated, sharper this time.

Natasha didn’t back down. “You don’t have all the time in the world, Kai. You need to fix this—for yourself and the people around you.”

Her voice softened, but I didn’t want to hear it. “No woman will ever stick around if they find out the truth,” she said quietly.

I waved her off impatiently. “I don’t need anyone, Natasha. And I never will.”

She looked at me, her eyes a mix of anger and pity. “I hope one day you find someone worth changing for,” she said softly.

“till then,” I muttered, walking away.

*************************************

Kai’s POV

Dr. Simmons walked into my apartment like he owned the place. The guy had this calm, unshakable energy about him—old, wise, and just a little too observant. His silver hair looked like it had seen better days, and his hands shook just enough to remind you he wasn’t young anymore. But when he worked, you could tell the guy was a pro, every move steady and deliberate.

“Good evening, Mr. Alessandro,” he greeted, smiling like we were about to have tea and cookies instead of another pointless conversation about my health.

I nodded, this was all natasha’s idea, i don’t even want this old man here.

“Any persistent headaches or migraines?” he asked, adjusting his glasses perched on his nose.

“No,” I said, short and to the point.

He made a note in his little notebook, looking way too serious about it. “Appetite? Any changes?”

“Normal.”

“Hmm.” Another scribble. Then he glanced up at me. “What about your social life? Anything different there?”

I shrugged. “Work’s busy, but nothing worth mentioning.”

“Personal life?” he pressed. “Any shifts in relationships or social circles?”

“No changes,” I replied, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

Dr. Simmons paused, his pen hovering over the paper like he was deciding whether to push me further. “On my way in, I met a brunette who let me in. Pretty, polite. I don’t think I’ve seen her here before. What’s your relationship with her?”

“She works for me,” I said flatly. “Just like everyone else.”

“Do you two work together often?”

“Unfortunately.”

That earned me a small smile from him, like he found my misery entertaining. “And how do you feel when you work with her?”

“frustrated,” I said, not even hesitating.

“Why?”

I leaned back, crossing my arms. “She’s daring, doesn’t follow instructions and does whatever she wants. Everything I can’t stand in a person.”

“Then why not fire her?”

“Because she’s good at what she does,” I snapped. “I can’t replace her, and she knows it. She uses that to her advantage.”

“Punish her, then,” he suggested, leaning forward slightly.

I stared at him, silent. The words were right there, but saying them felt...wrong.

“Why not?” he pressed.

“Because…” I started, then stopped.

“Because?”

I exhaled sharply, annoyed at myself for even thinking about it. “Because I don’t know how to punish her without hurting her.”

There. I said it. And it sounded as dumb out loud as it did in my head.

Dr. Simmons tilted his head, that faint, knowing smile creeping onto his face. “Since when did you care about hurting people?”

That question hit harder than I expected. I stared at him, the silence between us heavy.

“What are you trying to say?” I asked eventually.

“That maybe you’re improving,” he said casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And who knows? Spending more time with this ‘employee’ of yours might actually help.”

I rolled my eyes, already regretting letting him through the door. “I doubt it.”

But the smirk on his face told me he wasn’t buying my denial, and that annoyed me even more.

*****************************

It was around 9:00 PM when I got home, the kind of night where I just wanted to crash and forget about the chaos. I headed straight to my bedroom, but before I could even step inside, I stopped dead in my tracks. The door was cracked open. The dim light from my room cast a shadow down the hallway, and something about it didn’t sit right.

My room is always lock whenever I’m not in. No one ever came in here without my permission. Not Carlos. Not anyone. The security system was locked tight, and I was the only one who had the passcode. So, what the hell was going on?

Without thinking, I slid my hand behind my back, pulling out my gun. My grip tightened around the cold metal as I carefully stepped forward, moving as quietly as possible. When I got close enough to the door, I peered in. A figure was rummaging through my drawer. Whoever it was, they hadn’t noticed me yet.

I didn’t waste any time. I closed the distance between us in a few quick steps, grabbing the person by the neck with one hand and pressing the gun to the side of their head with the other. “Who sent you?” I asked, my voice way too calm for the situation.

The person let out a grunt, trying to break free, but it was useless. Before I could get an answer, I yanked the mask off, and the shock hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Amelia?” I muttered, staring at her, wide-eyed.

She had somehow slipped out of my grip and was standing there with that nervous, guilty look on her face. “Uh, hey… nice to, uh, see you,” she stammered, throwing me a cheeky smile.

I couldn’t believe it. What the hell was she doing here? “What are you doing in my room?”

She shrugged like it was no big deal. “Just looking for a pair of socks, but now that you’re here, I’ll give you some privacy.” She started to walk past me, but I wasn’t having any of it. I grabbed her wrist and yanked her back, slamming her into the wall.

Amelia winced, her back hitting the cold surface with a thud. My eyes flicked to my drawer—my flash was gone.

“Where’s the flash?” I demanded, my gaze fixed on her.

She looked me dead in the eye and lied through her teeth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I wasn’t buying it. Not for a second. I pressed the gun to her head, my voice deadly serious. “Don’t mess with me, Amelia. Hand over the flash now.”

She didn’t flinch, though. In fact, she had the nerve to smirk. “I told you, I don’t have it. Besides, you wouldn’t use that on me.”

Her words pissed me off, but I didn’t let it show. Without another thought, I spun her around, pushing her face against the wall. My hands went straight for her back pocket, feeling around for the damn flash. Nothing. I flipped her back around, searching her randomly now.

“Are you sure you’re looking for your flash? Or something else?” she asked, her voice low, seductive.