Chapter 26 Francesco
FRANCESCO
The bedroom door creaks as I push it open. I don’t know what I’m expecting walking in, but it’s definitely not the sight of the person in my room.
Silvia is standing by the window, her pale skin bathed in moonlight.
As usual, she looks like royalty. Untouchable.
Icy. Perfect. She’s wearing a white lace gown, her hair is held up with pins, with some ringlets coming down to curl at her nape and the sides of her face.
She looks so soft and delicate, like something out of a dream I never asked to have.
Her back is to me, but she speaks without turning.
“I figured you’d come eventually.”
I step inside and close the door behind me.
Finally, she turns. We stare at each other silently for a while.
My thoughts rush in, lapping over themselves like waves in a storm.
I can see it in her eyes too, the torment she keeps so well hidden.
She’s always been a master of masks, and the dinner we had some weeks ago was the first time I saw hers slip.
“I thought you’d be asleep since you had such a long day,” I murmur. “You didn’t have to come help with the arrangements.”
She lets out a faint laugh. “I’m your wife-to-be, Francesco. I may not live here yet, but someday I’m expected to. I’m supposed to be part of every function, every appearance, every goddamn performance this house demands.”
I nod slowly, staring down.
“Yes, I know what you’re expected to be. To do. Since we were five, they’ve told us what we are. How to act. Who to love. Who we are meant to bind ourselves to for life. I’ve followed it all… until now. But tonight, I’m going to ask you something I’ve never had the courage to ask before.”
She looks a bit unsure as I slowly cross the room, my footsteps barely making a sound against the marble floor.
When I reach her, I take her hand. Her fingers are cold against mine. I squeeze gently, grounding us both.
“Is this what you truly want, Silvia?” My voice is quiet but steady. “To spend the rest of your life with me? To wake up every day beside someone you don’t love? To raise children together in a house filled with silence and duty and nothing else? Is that what you really want?”
The silence stretches, taut and trembling. I’m close enough to see the pale tremor of her hands resting on the windowsill.
She smiles before answering. “I think we’ve both been putting off this conversation for far too long.”
“I know.”
Her voice cracks at the edges, not with sadness, but something heavier. A grief for something that never really existed. “I’m done,” she says, voice low. “Done with living a lie. With pretending. This… marriage—I can’t keep binding you to a life neither of us wants.”
“How long has it been for you?” I ask softly.
She doesn’t act confused. “Since he came into my life. Maybe even before. I don’t know when exactly I stopped lying to myself about loving him.”
Her breath hitches, and for a moment, I think she might cry. But then she inhales deeply, squaring her shoulders. In her eyes, I catch something like relief, the weight of it finally slipping off.
“I’m in love with him, Francesco. I feel like I’m dying when he’s not near me.
It’s like I’m walking around with a thousand cuts only he knows how to stop from bleeding.
And it hurts—god, it fucking hurts—that I can’t be with him, when every part of me aches to.
I want to be with Antonio. My parents would rather see me suffer than let me be with him, but I’m done pretending.
I’m done choking on my feelings. No matter what it costs me, I need to find a way out. I’m ready to die if I must.”
My eyebrows rise slightly. I always suspected her heart was somewhere else, but I never expected it to be here all along, hidden in plain sight.
“Antonio, huh?” I murmur, a dry chuckle escaping me. “Tall, brooding, terrifying… yeah, perfect match material. He ever smile, or is that just reserved for you?”
She smiles and her eyes flick up to mine, wide with surprise. Then… something gentler. Understanding.
“He makes me feel seen.” Her voice turns cautious. “Are you… angry?”
“Why would I be?” I ask, almost laughing. “You found something real. We were never that.”
“You could still make this difficult.”
I shake my head. “We both deserve out of this madness. I may not be a good person, Silvia, but you don’t deserve to suffer for it. You should be with whoever makes you feel whole.”
Her eyes glisten, not with tears, but clarity. A sharp, painful clarity we’ve both been avoiding.
“There’ll be consequences, Francesco. You know that.”
“I know.” I exhale harshly. “But I’ve got too much at stake now to just sit quietly and let it all burn down around me.
I’ve already lost too much. I’m about to lose the most important thing in my life, all because I didn’t fight when I should have.
I have less than a fighting chance left, and this might end very badly.
But I won’t let it slip away, not without trying to rewrite the ending. ”
She nods, then gently places a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m proud of you, Francesco. I truly am.
I hope you get everything your heart has never let itself ask for.
But I’ve made peace with the truth that this may not end well for me.
You don’t just walk away from the Society’s expectations.
We were meant to be an alliance. A legacy.
Our bloodlines were supposed to bind centuries. ”
She takes a breath, voice turning urgent.
“Just… make sure you’re certain. Not just for yourself. But for the new life that might get caught in the crosshairs of this whole damn mess.”
“I know what it was supposed to be.” My voice hardens. “I also know I’ll die before I let it become my prison. Just leave it to me. I know it sounds impossible right now, but I’ll find a way to free us both.”
“And what about Lia?” she asks softly. “And the baby?”
Her words land like a knife between the ribs. I don’t move. But she sees it anyway. She always has. I can’t lie to her. Never had been able to.
She lets out a slow breath. “I always knew you had feelings for her. Even before you did.”
“She’s not—” I stop. My throat tightens. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is, with you.” She smiles sadly. “But she brings out the best in you. Even when you try to fight it.”
Another silence settles.
“And just because you did some bad things doesn’t make you a bad person. You don’t deserve to be miserable. You were never cruel to me,” she says. “Even when you were distant. You tried to protect me… in your own way.”
“And you were the only person in this house who didn’t look at me like I was already a monster.”
“You’re not a monster,” she says, stepping forward. “You’re just a product of a fucked-up legacy. So am I.”
Her fingers brush mine, not with romance but something just as powerful. Solidarity. Understanding. A soldier’s goodbye.
“I’m with you, Francesco. However this ends.”
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
A tear slips down her cheek, and I don’t know if it’s for me or for the years we wasted pretending.
“To be honest. I don’t know yet. But I just can’t keep hurting him.”
My eyes narrow. “You trust him?”
She looks away for a second, then nods. “More than I’ve trusted anyone in years.”
She brushes away a tear, then exhales slowly.
“I attempted it once, you know. An escape. While I was at finishing school, where they were molding me into their perfect porcelain doll. I thought perhaps if I vanished for a few years, they might forget I existed. I felt crushed beneath the weight of my family’s expectations, trapped in this gilded cage of a society I never consented to join.
I had already purchased passage on a liner and reached the harbor before I understood the truth—that they were always watching.
My uncle had to beg for them not to put a bullet in my mother’s head. After that… I stopped trying.”
The silence hangs heavy.
“What’s different now?” I ask.
Her voice drops to a whisper. “I think this might be my only real chance. If I wait again… I won’t make it out at all.”
“Then go be with him,” I say. “Go before someone decides to make you regret it.”
“Thank you,” she whispers. “For letting me go.”
I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead. She closes her eyes like she’s letting go of a thousand ghosts.
“I hope he gives you a life we never had the chance to live.”
“And I hope,” she whispers back, “you get everything you’ve been too afraid to reach for before it’s too late.”
She bites her lower lip as she pulls back, and I notice the nervousness seeping from her pores. “What happens next?”
“We end the engagement,” I say with a tense exhale. “Quietly. But first…”
I sigh, then meet her eyes. “I have a plan.”
Her brows lift slightly.
“Do you trust me?” I ask.
She hesitates but only for a moment, then gives a slow nod.
“Good,” I murmur. “I’ll have to tell my father first. But until I find our way out… you need to pretend this conversation never happened.”
My father’s office reeks of cigars and expensive leather. He’s behind his desk, pouring himself a generous glass of whiskey, not looking up as I walk in.
Finally, a glance. But it’s brief and impatient—like something’s bothering him, and he can’t wait to be done with me so he can go back to brooding over it.
“I just got off the phone with Giovanni,” he says, voice clipped.
“He says Elena wants you and Silvia living together before the year’s out.
The house we bought you—as a wedding gift so you both have space as a newly married couple—is almost done with renovations.
You need to fix a date for the wedding.” He flips a page in the ledger with the same indifference he’d use swatting a fly.
“We can’t wait for the Elders to assign another one like they did with the engagement. ”
I step forward, planting myself directly in front of his desk.
“There’ll be no need.”
A frown tugs at his face. His eyes narrow, already suspicious.