Chapter 55 #2
He glances at Irina. “I told Irina that I was having trouble finding you. That the trail was cold. But it wasn’t. I just… I couldn’t do it.”
“You couldn’t do what?” I whisper.
“I couldn’t rip you from that home. From him. From your family. The last time I ever saw you in Arkansas was the day of Elise’s funeral.”
I feel like I’m spinning out of control.
“Moved back to Texas. Started over. Met Nate, did what I did best… and well… you know the rest.”
I can’t speak. Can’t move. I just stare at him. At James. The man who saved me and lied to me all at once.
I swallow hard. My voice cracks. “But you never told me who I was.”
He sighs. “Zeke didn’t want—”
“Hold on,” I cut him off. “Are you saying that Zeke, as in my big brother, knew who I really was.”
“Yes, he found out when he…” he looks around not knowing if he should say anything else.
“Just tell me Tex, please.”
He leans in and whispers in my ear so no one else can hear, “When he found Roman Russo’s black book on his father’s laptop.”
I feel like I’m about to collapse.
Luckily, Lex steps forward, his voice low but hard-edged. “What do you mean Bella was yours to protect, Mom?”
Irina tears her gaze away from Tex and finally meets her son’s eyes. “You were still a baby, Aleksandr. Your father and I were having complications trying for another child.”
Her voice softens, just a fraction as she looks at me. “Izzy was my best friend. My sister in every way but blood. We had this plan… to raise you both together. You and Isabella. Just like she and I had grown up. Side by side. Always.”
She swallows hard. “When she died, I was devastated. I still had you, but I couldn’t lose her daughter. I needed to find her. To keep that promise to Izzy. I sent James to do it because I couldn’t leave you here alone, you were too little.”
“You wanted to raise us as… siblings?” Lex asks, face scrunched in disgust.
Ellie’s voice cuts through the tension from behind. “Well, damn,” she says, eyes wide. “That would’ve made things very awkward at fight night.”
Lex chokes out a sound—half laugh, half groan.
I shoot Ellie a glare, but there’s no real heat in it. Just the chaos of a world that suddenly doesn’t make sense.
“None of this is how it was supposed to happen.”
I nod slowly, voice cool. “Yeah. I’m getting that a lot lately.”
My chest feels tight. Too many stares. Too many secrets. Too many goddamn truths I wasn’t ready to hear.
“I think I just need some air,” I say, backing up a step toward the hallway.
Lex straightens instantly. “You want me to come with you?”
I shake my head, already pulling my phone from my pocket. “No. I’ll be okay. I just… I’ll be right back.”
His eyes search mine like he doesn’t believe me, but he nods. “Okay, baby. Don’t go far.”
I nod once and slip out into the hallway, the polished floor cold under my boots, the sound of chatter and tension muffling behind me as my fingers fly across the screen.
ME: Get me the fuck out of here. Right now!!
CAL: Where are we going?
ME: To have a chat with my father.
CAL: You sure about that, Bells?
ME: I need to know, Cal. I need answers.
CAL: I’ll meet you outside.
???
NOX - Manhattan, New York
Cal doesn’t say a word as we pull up at NOX.
He just puts the car in park, gets out, and falls into step beside me like a silent shadow.
We cut through the grand lobby, following the signs toward The Obsidian.
The hallway is darker here, lit with red back lights and humming with low bass that pulses through the floor like a heartbeat.
When we reach the heavy black doors, the bouncer shifts to block us. “We’re not open.”
I don’t back down. “I want to see Roman Russo.”
He crosses his arms. “He’s not taking visitors.”
I meet his stare. “Then tell him…” I step forward, chin raised. “His daughter, Isabella, is here to see him.”
The bouncer hesitates, then reaches for his earpiece. A few seconds later another bouncer comes out, older than the first. His eyes widen when he sees me, a flicker of recognition flowing through his face.
Apparently I really do look like her.
“Follow me.”
Cal and I exchange a glance and then we’re moving deeper into the belly of the beast.
The Obsidian is bathed in red light, glowing like danger itself.
Shadows crawl along the black marble walls, flickering with the pulse of low, sensual music.
A massive bar stretches across the left side, all obsidian stone.
The dance floor is jet black glass, reflecting the ceiling’s web of chandeliers like liquid ink.
Black tables with crimson candles scatter the room, sleek and silent and ready to host sins.
It’s beautiful.
It’s deadly.
And it’s his.
We’re led down a private hallway of mirrored walls with no visible cameras. Everything looks curated and cold, until we stop in front of a thick, matte black door.
The bouncer knocks once, opens it, and gestures us inside.
Roman doesn’t look up right away. He just sits there still and poised with a glass of something dark swirling between his fingers like it’s an extension of his control.
He isn’t what I expected. Not some fat old mobster.
Not a cold, gray ghost from my nightmares.
He’s… hot. Unsettlingly hot—which, yes, I realize is weird as hell considering the DNA situation—but seriously, the man looks good.
The kind of man women whisper about in stories they’re not supposed to tell.
Black hair swept back with just enough silver at the temples to make it worse. And a damn jawline that could’ve been carved from marble. A black dress shirt, top buttons undone, sleeves rolled to his forearms like power’s just another accessory.
He looks up slowly. Like he already knew I’d walk in, like I’m the last move in a game of chess he’s been playing for years. His steel-gray eyes, sharp and assessing. The same as mine. Just one glance and something old and heavy settles between us.
He doesn’t look like a father. He looks like the villain in every good girl’s fantasy.
He rises, smooth and unhurried, a predator dressed in precision. He steps around the desk, closing the distance one measured stride at a time. When his hand starts to lift—maybe to touch, maybe to test—instinct takes over.
I draw my gun and shove it right in his face.
Cal chokes behind me. “Shit, Bella! When the fuck did you get a gun?!”
Roman doesn’t flinch. His steel eyes lock on mine and something changes in them, something slow, sad, and certain.
“You really are her,” he says quietly.
“Apparently,” I reply coolly.
His gaze flicks past me to Cal. “And who are you?”
Cal straightens. “I’m her backup.”
I roll my eyes. “Settle down, secret service.”
Roman’s mouth tugs, just barely. “There’s no need for theatrics or weaponry,” he says calmly, glancing at the gun in my hand. “You are safe in here. Please, sit.”
I hesitate. Just for a breath. Then lower the gun and sink into the chair across from him. Cal follows, silent and steady beside me.
Roman watches me like he already knows the questions. Like he’s been waiting to answer them his whole life.
“I heard Irina’s side of the story,” I say, keeping my gaze locked on his. “So what’s yours?”
A small smile curves his lips. “Oh, I’m sure Irina had quite a lot to say.”
He leans back on his desk. “Irina, Daniel, Izzy, and I all went to Northvale together,” he begins, voice low and steady. “We were thick as thieves… mostly. But Izzy—”
He exhales, slow and weighted. “I loved her. More than anything in the world.”
My jaw tightens. “Then why didn’t you fight for her?”
“I did. As much as I could. But I was promised to someone else, Luciana Bellanti. Rome. My father’s final demand. Your grandfather’s dying wish.”
He gives a faint, tired smile. “Marrying her tied the Russos to one of the oldest bloodlines in Italy. Power. Legacy. Stability. All the things our family thought mattered.”
Something flickers behind his eyes, grief, regret, maybe both. “But none of it mattered to me. I just wanted Izzy.”
He pauses. “After graduation, I hired her to dance at The Obsidian. It was the only way I could keep her close without starting a war within my own family. We were careful. Quiet. Madly in love.”
He looks away, the faintest tremor in his voice. “Luciana was in Rome most of the time, so it was easy to pretend. Until it wasn’t.”
He hesitates.
“Until she got pregnant,” I finish softly.
He nods. “She was terrified. Not of me, I think. Of what we’d done. Of what she might lose if she stayed. Maybe she didn’t believe I’d choose her.”
His gaze meets mine, steady and full of ghosts.
“Or maybe she didn’t trust herself.”
He exhales slowly, the sound more confession than breath.
“Your mother had a complicated relationship with her emotions,” he says quietly.
“She could be warmth and laughter one moment, then turn cold enough to freeze the air in her lungs. On stage, she called herself Raina… and sometimes, I think she became her. It was like Izzy was the light she showed the world and Raina was the darkness she couldn’t escape. ”
His gaze drifts past me, lost in memory.
“Izzy was light. Joy. Love. Everything I ever wanted.” He takes a deep breath. “But Raina… she carried the fear. The rage. The control. She never believed I loved Izzy. Thought I wanted to own her, tame her.”
He swallows hard, jaw tightening. “We fought about it constantly. She said I was just like my father, power-hungry and cruel. And when Izzy got pregnant…” His voice fractures. “I think that was the moment she finally broke. Raina took over. And Izzy never came back.”
When he finally looks at me, his steel-eyes are raw with regret, like the truth still bleeds when he speaks it. “I think it was Raina who ran that night… not Izzy.”
Silence presses down. Thick. Dense. “If you loved her that much, why didn’t you go after her? Look for her, look for me?”
“I did,” he says quietly, voice threaded with regret. “I found the love of my life dead on a cold steel slab at a hospital, and you were gone. No one would give me any answers.”
He stands up and starts to pace. “For years. I had two of my best men on it. One of them was named Malik Carter—brilliant man, genius with computers. He traced every lead, every record, every file he could get his hands on.”
The name hits me like a gunshot to the chest. I swallow hard. “Malik. Carter?”
“Yes,” Roman nods, leaning back on his desk. “He finally found something after a few years of searching. He and his wife, Kathryn, were on their way back to New York to show me when their plane went down somewhere over Pennsylvania.”
My stomach drops. My lungs stop working.
“They left behind a son,” Roman continues, his brow creasing. “Ezekiel, I think. I met him once, at the funeral. Good kid. Proud. Strong. Stood tall even when his world was falling apart.”
The room blurs around me.
No. No, no, no.
Zeke.
Roman knew them. Knew Zeke’s parents.
My hands start to shake.
Roman exhales slowly. “After that… things got complicated. I still had people searching, but every lead went cold. Somewhere along the line, the trail eventually just died. Even my contacts inside the NYPD couldn’t pull anything up. It was like you vanished into smoke.”
“So, you just gave up?”
“I was grieving,” he says quietly. “I had lost Izzy. I lost you. And I lost the only version of myself that was ever good.”
I blink. Hard. Everything’s wrong. The floor. The lights. The way this office smells like smoke and legacy.
Cal notices. “Bells, are you ok?”
I can’t answer. I just shake my head, the pressure pushing behind my ribs. “No,” I whisper. “No, I’m not okay.”
Roman stands slowly and crouches in front of me like he’s seen this before. Like he’s helped someone come down from an emotional high that rips them to their core.
“Breathe, child,” he says softly. “You’re safe now.”
“NO!” I shout, leaping to my feet. The chair skids out and crashes to the floor. “Don’t. Don’t tell me to breathe. Don’t act like you know me. Don’t act like this is normal.”
I’m spiraling. Shaking. Heat in my chest, ice in my spine.
“I’m sorry,” I choke. “I can’t… I can’t do this right now. This was a mistake.” I look at Cal, desperate. “I need to get the hell out of here.”
I bolt.
The second the doors of NOX close behind me, I suck in a gasp of air like I’ve been drowning.
Cold fall wind hits my face and I don’t even care that my makeup is probably ruined.
My chest is rising too fast, my breath is shallow and uneven as I pace the sidewalk.
My boots click against the concrete like they’re keeping time with my spiraling.
Cal wraps me up in his arms. “Bells…” he says gently, stroking my back. “C’mon. Just breathe, alright? You’re okay. You got out of there.”
“No, I didn’t,” I whisper. “I just learned that my entire life is built on fucking ghosts.”
My phone dings in my coat pocket.
LAING: 2 kids. 81st and Columbus. Looks like an abusive dad. It’ll be in and out. You coming?
I look up at Cal. “I need you to take me somewhere real quick.”