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The winding Tuscan roads were golden in the fading light. Rows of olive trees flanked the path, swaying gently in the breeze like old friends welcoming him home. The car's headlights cut through the warm haze as the estate came into view—Brione, nestled between rolling hills and silence. A sanctuary untouched by war.

In the backseat, Kadie held Enzo, who had drifted into a light nap against her shoulder. Her eyes flicked between the rearview mirror and the sprawling estate ahead, her thoughts running in quiet circles. She hadn’t asked questions—not yet—but she felt the tension simmering under Vincenzo’s calm.

“Where are we?” she asked softly as the car slowed.

Vincenzo’s voice was low and firm. “My mother’s estate. Old Brione. This is the safest place for now.”

The iron gates creaked open, and the convoy rolled through.

Waiting at the wide porch were Camilla and Rancho, their expressions tight with relief, and Marco, the head of security, already giving instructions to stationed guards.

Vincenzo stepped out first. He moved around to open the back door for Kadie and took Enzo gently from her arms, cradling the boy like he was holding his own pulse.

“Inside. Quickly,” he said, and she followed.

The warmth of the old villa wrapped around them. Candlelight flickered against the stone walls, and the smell of chamomile and hearth smoke filled the air.

Down the long hallway, his mother emerged—graceful despite her age, with silver hair pinned neatly and eyes that could see through wars and lies.

“Enzo,” she said with a quiet smile, then turned to Kadie. “You must be Kadie. Come, child.”

Kadie hesitated until the woman opened her arms. There was something deeply comforting in the gesture. She stepped forward, and Vincenzo’s mother embraced her like she'd known her soul already.

“You’re safe here. You and the little one.”

Kadie nodded, giving her a small smile. The woman was beautiful. She and Camilla had a striking resemblance. Looking between the two women, an unnerving tension stood right in between. I remembered Camilla telling me they didn't have a good relationship. 

Later that night, Vincenzo stood by the window, his silhouette carved by moonlight, watching the grounds with calculated stillness. Behind him, Camilla entered quietly, a blanket over her arm.

“They’re settled,” she said. “Enzo is already asleep. Kadie… well, she’s trying.”

He nodded, not looking at her.

“You did good bringing them here,” Camilla added. “But you know this means you’ve drawn a line.”

Vincenzo finally turned. “It was never a question. I just needed a place I trust. And the only place I trust anymore… is here.”

Camilla studied her brother, noting the exhaustion in his eyes. “And when Alejandra finds out they’re here?”

“Then she’ll know exactly where I’m drawing my sword.”

“I am sure you know everything now?” Camilla asked, stepping closer to her brother. 

“I do…” Vincenzo replied, looking back at her. 

“I am sorry about this whole thing.” Camilla said. 

“Being the Don of the Italian mafia shouldn't be an easy ordeal, Cam. I am thankful I have you, Pedro, Charlie, Rancho, and everyone else on my side to make it easier. Thank you for being here. I know being here with Mother is the last thing you want.” 

He pulled her into him for a long hug. Aside from Kadie, this was the only woman who had the right to see this side of him. 

The storm outside hadn’t come, but one lingered inside them both.

The moonlight bled through the tall windowpanes, casting long silver shadows across the room. The walls were lined with books and family portraits, but all Vincenzo saw was her—standing near the fireplace in one of his shirts, too big on her frame, yet somehow made only for her.

He locked the door behind him.

“You’re not sleeping,” he said softly.

Kadie turned to him, arms folded across her chest. “Neither are you.”

Vincenzo approached slowly, his jaw tense, eyes clouded with a dozen unreadable emotions. When he stopped in front of her, their silence held everything that words couldn't carry.

“I don’t want to waste tonight,” she whispered, her voice tight. “Not if you’re walking into something that could—”

“Don’t,” he said gently, cupping her cheek. “Don’t say it.”

His fingers lingered against her skin like he was memorizing her. She leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed, her breath catching. And when she looked up again, her eyes shimmered.

“Then show me,” she whispered. “Make me feel it.”

That was all it took.

Vincenzo pressed his lips to hers—slow, deliberate. There was no rush. No hunger for just the body. This was deeper. His hands slid down her arms, then around her waist, pulling her against him. He kissed her like a man fighting time, like someone saying goodbye without ever speaking the word.

They moved to the bed in silence, clothes falling away between kisses, touches, and lingering glances. His lips traced every inch of her like a vow. She wrapped her arms around him as though she could shield him from the war outside these walls.

“I need you to remember this,” he murmured against her skin. “In case…”

“No,” she stopped him, her voice thick. “You come back to me, Vincenzo LaRosa. Promise me.”

He didn’t answer with words. Just a kiss, deeper than before.

They moved together slowly—a rhythm of reverence and desperation. Each gasp, each sigh, each whispered name between them was a thread pulling tighter around their hearts. And when they finally lay tangled in the sheets, his hand resting over her heart, her fingers laced in his, the silence between them wasn’t empty.

It was filled with a thousand promises neither of them had dared to say out loud.

The next few days were going to be a lot…

The morning light spilled softly through the open window, casting warm shadows across the bedsheets twisted around Kadie’s waist. The air still smelled like him—his cologne, the hint of smoke and spice, and something deeper she couldn’t name but would never forget.

She stirred slowly, her arm reaching across the bed instinctively, fingers searching for warmth.

But it was cold.

Empty.

Her eyes blinked open. He was gone.

A soft pang settled in her chest, sharp and familiar. She sat up, wrapping the sheet tighter around herself. The silence was louder than it should have been.

Then, she noticed it—a small folded piece of paper tucked beneath the lamp on the bedside table. Her name was scrawled in Vincenzo’s messy, rushed handwriting. For the first time, he addressed her by her name.

Her hands trembled as she reached for it, unfolding it slowly.

“Kadie,

I couldn’t bring myself to wake you. Not after last night. You looked peaceful, and God knows, I needed to see you like that one more time before I left.

I'll make it back as soon as I can; tell our boy, "I love him.”

V.”

The note read.

The paper shook between her fingers as her breath hitched. She pressed it to her lips, eyes burning.

“Damn you, Vincenzo …” she whispered.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

“Miss Kadie?” came a voice gently. “Breakfast is ready. Master Vincenzo said to make sure you and the boy eat before anything else.”

She wiped a tear quickly, tucking the note against her chest. “We’ll be down soon.”

As the footsteps faded, she looked out the window. The vineyards stretched endlessly beyond the old olive trees. Somewhere out there… he was already gone.

She sat in that silence for a moment longer, holding the last words he left behind like a fragile piece of her heart.

Then she rose, got dressed, and went to find her son.