Chapter 2

Three days later, Lucas took me to one of his safe houses.

He sat in front of his computer and handed me a file.

“Noah’s been meeting with people from the Rosciano family,” he said calmly. “Trading family territory for support. Amelia Jones is the go-between.”

I flipped through the documents. Bank transfer records. Meeting logs. And photo after photo of Noah and Amelia together.

Every single one cut like a blade. I didn’t look away.

“What else?” I asked.

“Amelia’s pregnant.” Lucas paused. “Four months. Noah’s making arrangements to move her out of the city.”

My fingers touched the edge of the desk and stopped there.

Four months. So while Noah had been sitting at my table, telling me how pitiful she was, that woman had already been carrying his child.

I took a slow breath.

“He wants the kid recognized by the family,” Lucas said, tapping the papers. “That means he needs votes from your uncle’s side. Moretti support is the key.”

I said nothing for a long time. The only sound in the room was the low hum of the air conditioner.

Then I noticed the creases in the file. The yellowing at the edges of some of the pages.

“You already knew,” I said, looking at Lucas.

He didn’t answer. But silence was answer enough.

“Why tell me now?”

Lucas didn’t look away. His eyes were dark, deep and unreadable, like a winter night.

“Because you weren’t ready before,” he said.

“Ready for what?”

“To stop forgiving him.”

The words hit like a knife, cutting clean through the one place I had never dared touch.

Because he was right.

I had been forgiving Noah this whole time.

I kept thinking that if I endured enough, if I was good enough, if I gave him everything, he would go back to being the man he used to be.

The man who once knelt in front of my uncle and said, “It’s her or no one. I’ll marry her or I won’t marry at all.”

But that man was gone. Or maybe he had never existed in the first place.

“There’s something else,” Lucas said, his hand pausing on the mouse. “Noah’s been talking to a few people on the Commission. He’s collecting dirt on you.”

I looked up. “What kind of dirt?”

“He’s saying you’ve had too much involvement in family business. That you crossed lines a Donna isn’t supposed to cross. Someone’s helping him put a case together.”

I went quiet for a few seconds. “He wants to come after me in front of the Commission?”

“Possibly.” Lucas watched me closely. “But he’s still hesitating. Because of the Moretti family behind you.”

“Then let him hesitate,” I said. “People who hesitate make mistakes.”

I closed the file.

“Let them think they’re winning first.”

Lucas kept his eyes on me.

“Noah thinks he has me cornered,” I said evenly, like I was stating a fact already carved in stone. “So let him keep thinking that. I want everything between them and the Rosciano family. Every dollar. Every meeting. Every phone call. I want all of it.”

“And then?”

“Then we wait.”

Lucas didn’t push. He just nodded.

That night, I fell asleep on the couch in the safe house.

When I woke up, it was three in the morning.

The city lights outside spilled through the windows, leaving the room washed in a half-dark glow.

Lucas was sitting across from me in an armchair, still awake. There was an empty coffee cup in his hand, and his eyes were on me.

“Have you been watching me this whole time?” My voice came out rough from sleep.

“Pretty much,” he said. He didn’t look away. He didn’t even try to hide it.

The room went quiet for a few seconds.

“Lucas…” I pushed myself up slowly. “You know we—”

“I know.” He cut me off, his tone calm, almost too calm, like this was something he had accepted a long time ago. “You don’t have to say it out loud. I’m not asking you for anything back. I’m just… here when you need me.”

I looked at him.

I had known this man for most of my life.

When I was teaching him English, he had been a quiet little boy who followed me everywhere, like a stray dog that had finally found someone to belong to.

Then he was sent away.

And when he came back, he had become someone I barely recognized.

Hard. Silent. Controlled. And there was something new in his eyes, something I had never been able to name.

But one thing had never changed. His gaze always found me.

“Get some sleep,” Lucas said, standing up. He draped a blanket over my shoulders and let my unfinished sentence die between us. “You’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“Amelia’s going to be in the family garage. Noah will be there too.”

He moved to the door.

“Whether you want to go or not, I’ll go with you,” he said. “And whether you go or not, it won’t change the rest of the plan.”

Then he opened the door.

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t so good to me,” I said quietly.

He stopped, one hand on the door, but he didn’t turn around.

“Do you wish I weren’t good to you,” he asked softly, “or are you afraid that one day I won’t be there at all?”

My fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket. I didn’t answer. The door closed.

I lay there staring at the ceiling for a long time, unable to move.

And that night, I didn’t sleep again. All I could hear in my head was that one sentence.