11. Lia
Chapter 11
Lia
A few days later, Milly traveled back to South East Queensland. I dropped her off at the airport, so I can use her car for a few extra days. Much needed time alone that I need to get my head around everything that has transpired.
Milly wanted to get back to the Gold Coast so she could talk to Romeo.
Luckily, she never asked me too many questions about why I was adamant about staying. Which meant I kept my knowledge of our mother from her. To be honest, I’m only just getting my head around it and didn’t want to burden her until I could comfort her.
I will tell her and Amara when I’m ready. Right now, I’m not sure when that’ll be.
Lying on Dominic’s yacht, I relish the comforting sway of the hull beneath me, while the Coral Sea softly whispers in the background. Milly let me in on the secret that Dominic seldom uses it, transforming it into the perfect hideout to rid myself of my turbulent thoughts.
Apart from Milly, nobody knows I’m here. Milly promised to not tell a soul. And as the tracker is now out of my body, by the time anyone realizes I'm missing and searches for me, the tracker will tell them I'm somewhere in the ocean.
Not sure where, I stuffed the tracker inside some tackle and fed it to a larger fish that swam around the boat. Hopefully, the tracker will find its way inside a whale that’s traveling north.
For a moment, I considered flying to my newly acquired Swiss estate, a mountaintop retreat far from this dangerous world.
But reality bites hard; my passport is likely to be flagged the instant I attempt to leave the country.
So here I am, adrift in paradise, yet tethered by invisible chains.
Though, I admit, it's not the worst place to be.
The Whitsundays come alive around me, a picturesque tapestry of turquoise waters and lush islands—a stark departure from the darkness that is plaguing my life.
The yacht itself is a floating palace—all sleek lines and luxurious finishes. Teak decks warm under my bare feet, while the sun’s rays dance off the polished chrome. Inside, plush sofas and state-of-the-art technology offer every comfort.
It’s a beautiful prison, but a temporary one.
I know I can’t stay forever. But right now, the place offers solitude, but is definitely not a solution.
My hand rests on my belly. The slight swell beneath my fingertips is a constant reminder of the precious lives growing inside me.
After everything I’ve endured—the manipulation, the betrayals, the shattering of my identity—these babies are my anchor, my reason to live, my reason to fight.
And I want to fight. To finish what I started, but I want these babies more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. And that both surprises and grounds me.
I have to work out what I do now. But one thing I do is promise to protect them with my life.
I sigh as I think about my mom. She carved out a space where her girls could grow unsullied by the surrounding shadows. But here we are—all three of her girls are deep in the mafia's belly and the people she gave her life to save us from.
She gave up her life for me.
My shoulders sag and I exhale deeply as the sun begins its descent, painting the horizon in molten gold and blood-red. The impact of what I’ve learned crashes over me like a rogue wave.
My heart aches as the realization of everything hits me with such force that I slam my hand over my mouth to contain the primal cry escaping my lips.
Tears stream down my face, heated and sharp, as I remember the image on the screen: my mother, young, beautiful and oh so brave, choosing death to secure my freedom.
My back aches as I weep as I remember her words. Of her last memory of me, being when I cried when she held me for one last time.
Did she memorize my scent?
Did she hesitate as she thought of her girls, even for a heartbeat, before making her eventual choice?
I sob until my throat is raw and my eyes sting.
I sob until there’s nothing left but a deep, hollow ache.
The sun has set now, leaving me in the twilight as dark as my emotions.
So much grief and anger at everyone for allowing her death to happen. But strangely, I feel so much love and gratitude that she would do something so final, all because she adored her daughters.
As I cradle my belly, I can feel the tiny movements of the lives I am nurturing, bringing me a sense of comfort and purpose. The lives I now have to protect with my life.
“Your nonna,” I whisper to them, my voice cracking, “she loved me so much that she gave me her life. I... I don’t know if I can be that brave. But I’ll try. I’ll always try.”
My mind wanders to their father. Not sure why when I haven’t seen him since the day in the hospital. I’m not sure how he feels about me now. Maybe he feels betrayed that I kept his babies a secret.
I stretch my legs before I rise and make my way inside the luxurious cabin.
I ache for Dante—his warmth, his strength, the way he looks at me like I’m the only real thing in his world. The way we were in Las Vegas.
Not that it matters. I can’t stay with Dante. And Rafe and Cade only want what's inside me.
The thought alone is like a knife to my heart. I thought Cade was like me, the outsider who wasn’t wanted. I thought Rafe got me; he helped me so much, but now I know it was all a lie.
But Dante held me like he loved me.
Before I was shot, I was sure he was about to tell me how he felt about me. Not that I told him, but my feelings were real from the moment I married him. But I know our union will only breed more tragedy.
And I’m not taking a chance.
As I look out the window over the moonlit sea, I make a silent vow. Because I know these innocent babies will become the next pawns in their power games.
I know the stakes could be even higher with twins.
Would Dante’s enemies target them for revenge?
Would that be the Syndicate?
Or would the Syndicate see them as future assets to be shaped and controlled?
The mere possibility chills my blood.
No, I can’t risk it. The decision saddens me to my core. But I won’t allow my children to be burdened by a legacy tainted in blood.
I get why my mother ran when she was pregnant. In the end, she chose my freedom over her life, and I’m doing the same. Repeating her life. But it’s not about me anymore. It’s about my babies. The cruel irony isn’t lost on me.
Like my mother before me, I’ll pay any price.
Only for today will I allow myself this last moment of grief before I forge a fresh path.
Tomorrow, our new life starts.