Chapter 113

VINCENZO

The gates groaned open as the car rolled into the driveway—slow and deliberate, like even the engine knew what this house meant.

It had been days.

Years of war and silence.

Years of pretending this place was a fortress, when it had always been a prison with golden curtains and cold, expensive floors.

Now I was bringing her here. And our son. And it was already feeling like home.

I glanced into the rearview mirror.

She sat beside Enzo in the backseat, her arm wrapped protectively around him. She hadn’t said much since we left Venice. Her silence wasn’t cold; it was heavy. Like she was carrying the weight of knowing this move meant something.

That we were stepping into the heart of my past… to protect the future.

The car came to a stop.

“Home,” I said quietly.

She looked up at the massive stone estate. Her eyes swept over the marble steps, the towering windows, and the wrought-iron balconies that Alejandra once decorated with orchids.

Now they were empty. She had been here before, so she knew.

She didn’t move.

“Are you sure?” she asked finally. “Bringing us here?”

I turned to face her. “If they’re watching, I want them to see you with me. In my house. Under my protection.”

“But Alejandra—”

“She’s gone.”

Her eyes held mine, searching for a firmer response. “Not for good.”

“No,” I admitted. “But she won’t be the one making the rules anymore.”

She gave a small nod, then turned to unbuckle Enzo.

The boy yawned, hair tousled, but his eyes lit up as he stepped out and looked up at the giant house. “Whoa.”

“You like it?” I asked, ruffling his hair.

He grinned. “It looks like a castle.”

I forced a smile. “Yeah… something like that.”

Rancho was already at the front door when we walked up, ever-present, ever ready. He opened the door without a word, giving a small bow to her and a wink to Enzo.

“Ma’am. Little sir.”

She gave him a tired but grateful smile.

As we stepped inside, the cold silence wrapped around us. The house smelled like wood polish and memory.

She looked around slowly. Her eyes lingered on the staircase, the grand chandelier, the framed photos that had been removed… But the shadows still lingered.

“Are you okay staying here?” I asked, lowering my voice.

She nodded. “If it means being close to you.”

That hit something in my chest.

I took her hand. “You’ll stay in the East Wing. I’ve already had it cleaned out and secured. You’ll be safe there. Rancho and Pedro will stay close.”

“And you?” she asked softly.

“I’ll be everywhere.”

She didn’t smile—not quite. But she didn’t let go of my hand either.

Enzo ran ahead, his shoes echoing down the marble hallway.

We both stood there for a moment, in the house I once shared with another woman, trying to imagine what it could become now.

Maybe not a home yet.

But something.

Something closer.

After ensuring they had settled in, I headed to my private study, requesting Pedro and Charlie to join me.

The heavy oak doors shut behind as the two men entered. Their expression was tight, with phones ready. They knew I wasn’t in the mood for small talk—not tonight.

“I’ve lined up the files,” Pedro said. “Everything we could find on J&W. Their financials, their holdings, and the backdoor deals they thought were buried.”

I didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, I stood by the fireplace, one hand curled around a glass of whisky, watching the flames lick the stone like they had answers I hadn’t asked for.

“They’re the Glaziers’ longtime wash front,” I said, voice cold. “How long before they realize we’re taking their bones out from under them?”

Charlie exhaled. “If we move fast, they’ll be too busy scrambling to react.”

“Good.” I turned to face him. “Then let’s move.”

Pedro stepped forward, placing a thick file on the desk.

“They’ve been laundering money for at least three of the Grays’ lower-tier operations in South America. We hit J&W hard; we collapse their safety net. Might even flush out the mole they planted in Colombia.”

I picked up the file, flipping through.

“Who owns their controlling shares?”

Charlie tapped the screen on his phone. “A shell company registered in Luxembourg. We traced it back to a man named Aurelian Timber, discreet, greedy, and not loyal to anyone but money.”

A slow smile crept up my face. “Perfect.”

I placed my glass down, stepping toward my desk.

“Buy him.”

“He’ll want to know who’s making the offer.”

I sat, folding my hands.

“Tell him it’s a man who intends to own everything the Glaziers touch.”

Pedro gave a short nod. “Consider it done.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then he added, “What about her and the boy?”

I looked up, the firelight catching the edge of steel in my eyes.

“They’re why I’m doing this. The Glaziers started a war with my business… and they got personal.”

I stood again, walking toward the window; the city stretched out like a map beneath me.

“I’ll show them what it means to come after what’s mine.”

Charlie and Pedro looked at each other before their gaze swept back to me.

“Anything from Don Ceballos yet?” I asked.

“Nothing yet.” Charlie answered.

“Let me know as soon as something comes up.”

KADIE

Vincenzo had gone up to take care of some business with Pedro and Charlie. The house was quiet, too quiet.

Not the comforting kind of quiet—the kind I knew from nights alone, wrapped in a blanket with Enzo breathing softly beside me.

This was… calculated.

Like the walls were holding their breath, waiting for me to slip.

The echo of my footsteps followed me through the East Wing as I wandered, fingers grazing the smooth wood of the hallway railing, eyes catching the faint shine of chandeliers I hadn’t dared to look directly at when we walked in.

This place was massive. Beautiful. Empty in a way only wealth could make something feel.

The room Vincenzo gave me was more of a suite with silver accents, soft beige walls, and fresh linen that smelled too clean to be welcoming. I unpacked one bag and left the others untouched. Enzo was already curled up on the sofa in the adjoining room, cartoons flickering on mute as he slowly drifted off.

He was content.

That was all that mattered.

Or at least… it should be.

I wrapped my arms around myself and walked to the tall windows overlooking the garden. The moonlight touched everything, making even the trees look haunted. I could picture Alejandra out there once—maybe in a silk robe, glass of wine in hand, smiling as she plotted her next move. This was her kingdom before it became my shelter.

Did he bring her flowers?

Did she ever sit where I was standing now, doubting her place the same way I was?

I hated the thought.

And I hated how much I wanted to be stronger than this.

A soft knock pulled me from my spiral. I turned, startled.

It was Rancho. Vincenzo had mentioned he was Randy’s brother. The two men did look alike.

“Forgive the intrusion, Miss Kadie,” he said gently. “Master Vincenzo asked me to check on you.”

I nodded, forcing a smile. “We're fine. Thank you.”

His eyes lingered—wise and kind, but filled with the same loyalty I’d seen in Randy back in Venice. They were men who would guard secrets with their last breath.

“If you need anything… even just someone to talk to,” he said, “you only need to ask.”

“Thank you, Rancho,” I said again, quieter this time.

He bowed slightly and left, closing the door behind him.

I exhaled and turned back to the window.

This wasn’t just a house.

It was a test.

One I wasn’t sure I could pass.

But then I heard a small voice behind me.

“Mama?”

I turned. Enzo stood there, rubbing his eyes, hair sticking up in every direction. My heart softened immediately.

“Hey, baby,” I said, walking to him and kneeling.

“Is Papa coming back?”

I hesitated, then smiled. “Yes. He always comes back.”

And in that moment, I told myself—even if this house tried to swallow me whole, I would not let it scare me away.

Because for Enzo… and for Vincenzo…

I had to stay.

To give him the strength he needed to fight.