Chapter 17 Stassi
STASSI
He doesn't say anything right away.
After I finally tell him someone found us—found Xander—Theo just stands there frozen, turned to stone by my words.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I wait for him to say something, anything.
"Who found you?" he finally asks, his voice cutting through the silence.
I can't answer right away. My throat closes up, fear choking me. I need to show him instead. Words won't be enough.
I bend down beside the bed, my fingers finding the spot between the mattress and box spring where I hid it after coming here. The envelope crinkles under my touch as I pull it out with trembling hands.
Theo doesn't reach for it immediately. He just watches me.
Watches the way my fingers tremble.
I hand it over without a word.
He tears it open and pulls out the first page.
"You should sit down," I say.
He doesn't move.
Fine. He'll do this standing then.
"Remember when I said I paid a doctor to forge the abortion record? Well, that's a copy of it. The doctor took twenty-five thousand dollars and made it look like I'd ended the pregnancy."
Theo's face is blank, but his eyes are burning as he reads.
"Your father wanted proof of the termination. He said it was the only way you and I would ever be safe from enemies." I swallow hard. "Said it was the only way he'd let me disappear."
Theo doesn't respond, but I can tell he's gripping the paper tightly, fighting to maintain control.
He pulls out the next document and looks it over.
"That's Xander's birth certificate."
The official document from Los Angeles County bears our son's full name: Xander Milonakis. But the father's line has "Theo Kastaris" written across it in red ink. Not by me, but by whoever found us.
"I left the father's information blank when he was born," I say, my voice weak. "I never denied you were his father. I just wanted to protect him from what that might mean."
Theo studies the certificate. I see the flicker of pain in his eyes at not being named officially as the father. Then his focus turns to the red ink.
"When did you get this?"
"A week ago," I say, clearing my throat. "Left in my mailbox."
He nods and looks inside and finds the picture.
He stares at it longer than the other two things.
"That was taken recently," I say, holding back tears. "Outside Xander's daycare in LA."
In the picture, I'm lifting Xander into my arms. His little backpack is decorated with dinosaurs. His dark hair is wild in the wind, and he's smiling at me—that perfect smile of his. But there's a small red circle drawn around his face, and another around mine. Like targets.
Whoever took that picture was a close shot.
Too close.
"He has your smile," Theo says. "But the rest..."
"Is you," I finish. "All you."
It's brief. But it's the first second of a moment we've ever shared about our son. Just that quick interaction breathes a life into me I never knew.
It goes away when I see Theo turn the picture around and read the note. The reason I'm here. The reason I finally stopped running.
Theo's eyes darken as he reads the words I've memorized from staring at them since receiving all this. Those words—the cause of all my sleepless nights this past week.
Secrets this big never stay buried.
He looks just like his father.
Wonder how long that'll keep him alive.
P.S. Be careful. Children vanish every day.
Theo stiffens.
His hands shake from rage as he grips the edges of the photo. There's a moment of silence as I see his eyes scan the words over and over, committing them to memory.
The raw fury that washes over his face is terrifying—and yet, somehow comforting. Because this is what I came for. This is what Xander needs. This is what I need.
The wrath of Theo Kastaris, channeled in our defense.
"Jesus Christ, Stassi," he finally says, starting to pace. "They are watching you closely."
I nod.
"Do you know for how long?" he asks.
"I don't know. But a few months before that came, a random toy appeared in his room on his bed. I'd never seen it before. At first, I thought maybe he brought it home from daycare. But now, I think someone had been inside our home, Theo."
My voice breaks on his name. I've been so alone, carrying all this.
"That and this," I say, pointing to the envelope, "I knew I couldn't protect him alone anymore." The admission costs me. Independence has been my armor for four years. "I need help. Your help. And I knew your father wasn't…" I trail off.
"We can unpack all that later. My father. His role in all this. Let's just focus on our son."
I instantly feel warm tears run down my cheeks as I stare at him. "You have no idea how good it is to finally hear you say that."
He smiles, but stops it and regains his composure.
"Do you have cameras? Any way to see who dropped this off?"
I shake my head no.
"Any witnesses?"
I shake my head no again.
"So nothing?"
I shrug.
Theo stops pacing. "Okay, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but why not go to the police?"
I laugh. "With what? A note? No security footage?
And explain what—that my son's father is Theo Kastaris?
That would bring more danger, not less." I shake my head.
"Besides, whoever this is knows things no one else should.
This isn't some random person. This is people from your world.
This is mafia, Theo—not a random stalker or mentally unstable person. And the timing—"
"What timing?" he asks, interrupting me.
"The toy that I found in his room. It was the same week I learned your father was killed in Athens."
"You think this is connected to my father's murder?" Theo asks, his voice dangerously soft.
"I don't know," I admit. "But it can't be a coincidence."
"Fuck," he says. "There's some stuff I need to tell you about my father's murder, but that can wait." He sits down on the bed next to me and grabs my hand.
His touch is warm, and with just his touch, I feel like I've connected with my soulmate.
"Stassi, where exactly is Xander now?" he asks.
"With my friend Marlena. They've changed locations twice and have been using burner phones to contact me."
"And you trust her?"
"With my life. With his life."
He nods once. "Well, call her. Tell her to pack his things. We're going to get him."
I let go of his hand and stand.
"I… I don't think that's a good idea."
His eyes narrow. "What do you mean? He belongs here. With me. With us," he says and stands. "I can hide him better than anyone else."
I don't speak. I think of what to say. How to say it.
"He's my son."
"And mine," I counter. "You can't just waltz in after three minutes of knowing about him and make these decisions."
"Three minutes because you gave me no choice," he hisses, stepping closer.
The space between us fills with tension. I smell his cologne—that damned scent that's haunted my dreams.
"You want to bring him here? To Greece? To the Kastaris compound?" I gesture around us. "The same place where your father was planning your life without us in it? The same father who told me I had to disappear because I was of no use to the family alliance and not from this world?"
Theo's jaw tightens. "My father is dead."
"And whoever killed him might be the same person threatening our son," I say, the words cutting my throat on their way out. "Bringing Xander here would be like painting a target on his back."
"Nobody would dare touch him under my protection."
"Your protection? Theo, look at what's happening. Your family is at war. Your father was murdered. You're hunting down his killers. And now someone knows about Xander when it's almost impossible to have known."
He towers over me for a second before he takes a step back.
"Okay then. So what's your brilliant alternative? Leave him with your friend? Away from me?"
I'm the one stepping toward him now, stopping just short of touching him.
"Italy," I say softly.
"What?"
"We meet in Italy. Neutral ground. Not connected to your family, not where they'd expect him to be." I take a deep breath. "I arrange for him to fly there with Marlena. We meet them. Together."
Theo's eyes narrow. "And then what?"
"Then we decide, together, what's best. Once you've met him. Once you understand exactly what's at stake."
"What I understand," he says, his voice sharp, "is that someone is threatening my son. My blood. And you want to keep playing games."
"This isn't a game!" My voice rises. "Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I've spent four years looking over my shoulder for fun? I have kept him safe, Theo. Every single day."
"And now you can't anymore," he says, the words landing like a slap. "You said it yourself."
I feel tears threatening, but I blink them back. I won't cry. Not now.
"You're right. But we do this smart. Not rash. Not emotional."
He forces air out of his nose and looks away for a moment before looking back to me.
"Fine. You did always help me see things clearly when I needed it," he says, almost reluctantly.
"Give me a few days," I say. "Let me arrange it properly. Safely. I'll talk to Marlena, set everything up. We'll go to Italy, and," I say and put my hand on his chest, drawn by that familiar gravity between us, "you'll finally meet your son."
His eyes darken. I feel his chest rise and fall more quickly. We're standing too close now, the heat from his body radiating against mine. Even after everything—the years apart, the accusations, the revelation about Xander—this hasn't changed. This impossible pull.
"I never stopped, you know," he says quietly.
I smile.
"I know. Theo, I—"
But I don't get to finish. In one fluid movement, he grabs my arms, his fingers pressing into my skin. He pulls me so close I crash up against his hard body.
His face tells me he's feeling exactly what I am. Despite everything wrong between us, despite the nightmare we're trapped in, we never stopped loving each other. Not really.
His eyes drop to my mouth, and I feel myself sway toward him, every cell in my body remembering him. Remembering us. Four years of dreaming about this moment, of wondering if I'd ever feel his touch again.
He leans in, and I do too, my eyes fluttering closed. I'm ready to taste his lips, the ones I've thought about every day since leaving. I need this—this connection, this confirmation that some part of what we had still exists.
"Holy shit. Stassi?"
We both freeze.
My eyes snap open. I whirl around, heart beating rapidly, to see Dimitri standing in the doorway, his mouth hanging open in shock, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
Dimitri. The youngest Kastaris brother. The wildcard. The one who always saw too much.
"What the hell is going on?" he asks, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation. His eyes dart between me and Theo. "And am I interrupting something?"
I step back from Theo, trying to regain my composure. Dimitri looks the same—dangerously handsome, tattoos covering his neck, arms, and hands.
"Dimitri," I say, clearing my throat. "It's been a while."
He laughs. "Yeah, I'll say. And now you're back, looking cozy with my brother." His eyes narrow. "What's the play here, Stassi?"
"That's enough, Dimitri," Theo cuts in. "This is between Stassi and me."
Dimitri ignores him, walking further into the room, inspecting me like I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve. "You must be really desperate to come back here after what you did. Or really stupid."
"Both," I admit, refusing to be intimidated.
Dimitri and I always had a complicated relationship—never quite friends, never quite enemies.
He was fiercely loyal and protective of Theo, suspicious of outsiders, sometimes to a fault.
But I always got the impression he understood what it meant to be the one who didn't quite belong.
"Last I checked, you were running in the opposite direction of this house."
I glance at Theo, uncertain how much to share. How much he wants shared.
"She came to me for help," Theo says, his voice giving nothing away. "We'll get into more later."
Dimitri raises an eyebrow. "Must be serious if it brought her back after all this time," he says to Theo and turns back to me. "You hurt him, you know. When you left."
"Dimitri," Theo warns.
Something in Theo's tone must resonate with him, because his expression shifts slightly.
"Well, I came to tell Theo that I'm here. And that Ares wants to speak with him. Urgently." He pauses, eyes flickering between us again. "But this might be more interesting."
"Tell Ares I'll call him back," Theo says dismissively.
Dimitri shakes his head. "No can do, brother. He specifically said to drag you to the phone if necessary."
Theo's jaw tightens. He looks at me, conflict clear in his eyes.
"Go," I say quietly. "I'll do what I said."
He hesitates, then nods once. "We'll finish this conversation later." His eyes hold mine, and I hope he doesn't just mean the discussion about Italy. About Xander. But about the moment—the moment Dimitri interrupted.
As Theo moves to leave, he pauses briefly by Dimitri. "Don't press her," he says, and walks out.
Dimitri smiles and looks at me. "Wouldn't dream of it. As long as she makes sure my brother doesn't become collateral damage. Again."
Before I can respond, he's gone, leaving me alone with the happy reunion and the lingering sensation of Theo's almost-kiss burning on my lips.
Now, I have two days to arrange Italy. Two days to prepare Theo for meeting his son, all while figuring out who's threatening our family and why.
And somewhere in the midst of that—Italy, danger, threats—I have to survive the man I never stopped loving. And the truth I've only just begun to reveal.