Chapter 40

Chapter 40
Rafael POV

The voice on the phone was a ghost from a grave I thought I’d buried deep. With the same smug tone that used to make my blood boil when I was a kid trailing my father through backroom deals.

Vincent fucking Moreau. Raelyn’s father. The man who once smiled across a table while his men put a bullet in my cousin’s skull for disrespect.

I gripped the phone so hard the cracked screen dug into my palm. Blood smeared the glass again.

“Say that again,” I hissed.

A chuckle echoed through the line. “You heard me, Rafael. You Italians are so dramatic. Anyway, tell Raelyn her daddy’s coming. And when I do, I’m taking what’s mine. Starting with her.”

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone as if it were a grenade. My pulse hammered in my ears, louder than anything.

Vincent? Here? After all these years of silence, of letting his empire rot while I built mine. He wasn’t just sending men to test my walls; this time he was coming for her.

I hurled the phone across the room. It smashed against the bookshelf, plastic and glass shattering down.

Raelyn.

She was upstairs, probably curled up in the guest room, thinking a locked door could keep the world out. Thinking I could keep her safe.

But Vincent knew. He had always known how to twist the knife. She wasn’t just his daughter; she was his advantage. His way back in, and I just handed him the perfect weapon by marrying her.

But how did he know about her? After all these years?

I was up the stairs before I realized my feet were moving towards her room. Her door was shut. I raised my fist to pound, to break it down if I had to, but stopped short.

What the hell was I going to say? Your father's alive, and he wants you dead or worse? She's gonna look at me with those beautiful eyes, the ones that saw too much, and I will see the fear I put there.

The same fear I swore to erase.

My hand dropped as I pressed my forehead to the cool wood, breathing hard. The scent of her lingered in the air — jasmine and something softer.

A floorboard creaked behind me, and I spun around, my hand already reaching for the gun tucked at my lower back. Lorenzo stood there with his arms crossed, face unreadable in the dim light.

“You gonna stand there all night, or you gonna tell me why you look like you’re about to burn the house down?” he said.

I didn’t answer, just stared at him until he sighed and stepped closer.

“Talk, Rafael. You’re bleeding on the rug.”

I glanced down and, true enough, my knuckles were split open with blood dripping steadily onto the rug. I flexed my fingers, feeling the sting.

“Vincent called,” I whispered, finally finding my voice . “He’s coming for her.”

Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed. “Moreau? I thought he was dead.”

“So did I.”

He exhaled through his teeth letting out a sharp hiss. “Merda. You sure it was him?”

“I know that voice in my sleep.” I pushed off the door, pacing the hallway like a caged animal.

“He’s been watching— He’s close.”

Lorenzo rubbed a hand over his jaw. “We should double the men and lock the villa down. No one should be allowed in or out without my say-so.”

“Already done.” I stopped pacing, faced him.

“But it’s not enough. He knows her. I need to talk to her.”

He studied me for a long moment. “You sure that’s wise? She’s spooked, Rafael. If you go in there with your temper, you’ll push her further away.”

I laughed bitterly. “She’s already running locked herself in a room like I’m the enemy.” I gestured at the door. “But I’m not the one who put that fear in her eyes. He is.”

Lorenzo nodded toward the door. “Then don’t go in there hot-headed. She’s not Dante and you can’t punch your way through this.”

I wanted to. God— I wanted to break something, anything, to keep the rage from swallowing me whole. But he was right.

Raelyn wasn’t a soldier. She was… fuck, she was everything.

I turned back to the door, raising my hand again. This time, I knocked softly.

“Raelyn,” I said, voice low. “Open the door.”

Silence.

I knocked again. “Piccola, please. We need to talk.”

A shuffle was heard inside then her muffled voice. “Go away, Rafael.”

“Not happening.” I leaned closer against the door. “I know you’re scared. I know you hate this. But I’m not leaving you alone with this.”

Another beat of silence then the door opened a little just enough for me to see one gray eye, glaring out.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice was steady, but I heard the tremor underneath.

I pushed the door open gently, stepping inside before she could slam it shut. The room was dark, curtains drawn, the only light was from moonlight.

She stood by the window,arms wrapped around herself, wearing one of my old shirts that hung to her thighs. Her hair was a mess, she looked small.

“Vincent called,” I said.

"Who is Vincent?" She whispered

I sighed running a hand through my hair "He's your father Raelyn."

Her breath hitched "Rafael I told you my dad is dead! How many times do I have to repeat that!?"

“He’s not.” I took a step closer she didn’t back away, but her fingers curled into fists. “He’s alive and he’s coming for you.”

She laughed. “Of course he is. Do you even hear yourself? Why would a dead person come back for me?"

" Raelyn! You're Dad is alive and his name is Vincent. The one you're talking about isn't your biological father!"

She stepped closer to me and jab my chest " So you're telling me, my dad is a Mafia don? And now he wants me right? Why?"

"Or is it because I'm the perfect bargaining chip, right? The daughter he never wanted, now the wife of his enemy. Tell me, Rafael—did you know he was alive when you married me?”