28. Mia
28
MIA
A s the car pulls up to the familiar driveway of my family home, I feel my heart swell with emotion. Tears prick at my eyes, and I blink rapidly, trying to hold them back. I’m here . I’m finally home .
But as I step out of the car, a strange feeling washes over me. This place that I’ve longed for, dreamed about for months, suddenly feels… different. It’s still the same grand house, with its manicured lawns and elegant facade, but something has shifted. It’s as if I’m seeing it through new eyes.
Before I can dwell on this feeling, the front door bursts open, and I’m engulfed in a whirlwind of familiar scents and sounds.
“Mia!” Sofia’s voice rings out, filled with joy and relief. She reaches me first, pulling me into a tight embrace. “Oh, sorellina , we’ve missed you so much!”
I can’t hold back the tears anymore. They flow freely as I clutch my sister, breathing in her familiar scent. “Sofia,” I choke out, “I’ve missed you too. So much.”
Before I know it, I’m surrounded. Bianca is there, one arm around me while the other holds a beautiful little girl with dark curls and startlingly green eyes—Rork’s eyes.
“Look, Cara,” Bianca coos, “it’s your Zia Mia!”
Cara, shy in the face of this stranger who’s supposedly her aunt, buries her face in her mother’s shoulder. Bianca laughs softly, patting the baby’s back. “She’s nearly walking now,” she says proudly. “Gets into everything.”
I reach out to touch Cara’s soft curls, my heart aching with love for my niece. “She’s even more beautiful than I remember, Bianca,” I whisper. It has been so long since I’ve seen Cara. She was just barely sitting up when I last saw her.
Then Chiara steps forward, tears streaming down her face. In her arms is a small bundle, and my breath catches in my throat.
“Mia,” Chiara says, her voice thick with emotion, “I want you to meet your nephew. Nico Tenebre.”
A fresh wave of tears overwhelms me as I realize the significance of the name. “You… you named him after Papa?” I ask, my voice breaking.
Chiara nods, gently placing little Nico in my arms. As I look down at his tiny, perfect face, I feel a surge of love so strong it nearly knocks me off my feet. “Hello, Nico,” I whisper, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.
“Mia, my darling girl.” My mother’s voice cuts through the fog of emotion. I look up to see her standing there, arms outstretched, tears in her eyes.
“Mama,” I breathe, carefully handing Nico back to Chiara before throwing myself into my mother’s embrace. She holds me tight, stroking my hair like she used to when I was little. I don’t even realize I’m sobbing until Mama’s grip on me tightens and she soothes me.
“Come inside, all of you,” Mama says after a moment, her arm still around me. “I’ve had all your favorites prepared, Mia.”
As we make our way into the house, I can’t stop touching my sisters, my mother, my niece and nephew. It’s as if I need to reassure myself that they’re real, that I’m really here with them.
The dining room is a sight to behold. The table is laden with dishes, the delicious aromas making my mouth water. As we sit down, I find myself in the center, surrounded by my family as we help ourselves to the food. Two nannies come in to take the babies away so we can enjoy our meal.
The initial joy of our reunion begins to fade as we start to eat, replaced by a tension that seems to crackle in the air. Sofia is the first to break the silence.
“Mia,” she starts, her voice gentle but firm, “we need to talk about your situation with Luca.”
I feel my shoulders tense. “What about it?” I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Sofia exchanges a glance with Bianca before continuing. “We’re worried about you. After what happened at that dinner… Dom’s been talking about trying to take you back by force.”
“What?” I exclaim, my fork clattering to my plate. “No, absolutely not. You can’t let him do that!”
“Mia,” Mama interjects, her voice soothing, “we just want what’s best for you. You can’t possibly be happy with that man.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the anger rising in my chest. “I am happy,” I insist. “Luca is good to me. He’s kind, he’s patient?—”
“Kind? Patient?” Sofia interrupts, her voice incredulous. “Mia, this is the man who kidnapped me, who nearly killed Dom. How can you say he’s kind?”
“People can change, Sof,” I argue, feeling my temper flare. “You don’t know him like I do.”
“And you don’t know what he’s capable of!” Sofia snaps back, her calm facade cracking. “ I do. I lived through it, Mia. Or have you forgotten that?”
“Of course I haven’t forgotten!” I shout, surprising even myself with the volume of my voice. “But you’re not being fair. You’re not even trying to understand!”
“Understand what?” Chiara chimes in, her voice hard. “That you’re living with a monster who’s probably brainwashed you?”
I turn to Chiara, betrayal and anger warring inside me. How could my closest sister do this to me? “He’s not a monster, Keeks. And I’m not brainwashed. I know exactly who Luca is, what he’s done. He’s told me everything.”
“Everything?” Mama asks, her voice trembling. “Do you know about his past, Mia? About the things he’s done?”
“Yes, Mama, I do,” I say firmly. “And I’ve accepted it. Why can’t you?”
“Because it’s insane!” Sofia explodes, slamming her hand on the table. “You’re our little sister, Mia. It’s our job to protect you, and you’re making it impossible!”
“I don’t need protection!” I yell back, years of being the baby of the family, of being coddled and sheltered, finally boiling over. “I’m not a child anymore. I’m a married woman, and I’m capable of making my own decisions!”
“A married woman?” Sofia scoffs. “You were forced into this marriage, Mia. It’s not real!”
Her words hit me like a slap. “Not real?” I repeat, my voice dangerously low. “Need I remind you, Sofia, that you were forced into marrying Dominico when you didn’t want to. Is your marriage real?”
You could hear a pin drop in the dining room. Sofia’s face grows nearly purple with rage, but I’m not done.
“And what about Papa? Was his love for us not real because of the things he did? Are we going to pretend he was a saint?”
My mother’s face goes pale. “Mia!” she gasps. “How dare you speak about your father that way?”
“Why not?” I challenge, years of pent-up questions and doubts pouring out of me. “Why is it okay for Papa to have done terrible things, but not Luca? Why does Papa get a pass, but Luca is condemned without a chance?”
“That’s different,” Sofia insists.
“Is it?” I press. “How many lives did Papa ruin, Sofia? How many families did he tear apart? But we loved him anyway. We understood that our world isn’t black and white. So why can’t you give Luca the same chance?”
“Because he hurt our family!” Bianca shouts, her face red with anger. “He took Sofia, he tried to kill Dom! For God’s sake, Mia, how many of our guards did he kill at your birthday ball?”
“And how many families did Papa hurt?” I shoot back. “How many sisters and brothers and children suffered because of him? But we still call him a good man. Why can’t Luca be given the same opportunity to change, to be better?”
To my surprise, Bianca falls silent, a look of astonishment crossing her face. But Sofia isn’t done.
“This is ridiculous,” she says, her voice cold. “You’re our sister, Mia. You’re a Marino. It’s time you started acting like it and fall in line.”
Something in me snaps at her words. “Fall in line?” I repeat, my voice shaking with fury. “I’m not one of your soldiers, Sofia. I’m your sister, and I deserve to be heard!”
“You’re being unreasonable—” Sofia starts, but Bianca cuts her off.
“No, Sofia, Mia’s right,” Bianca says, her voice quiet but firm.
Sofia whirls on her. “What? You can’t be serious, Bianca. After everything Luca’s done?—”
“I’m not saying I like him,” Bianca interrupts, tossing her head. “God knows, I fucking loathe the man. But Mia’s an adult. If she says she’s happy, if she says Luca’s changed, don’t we owe it to her to at least consider it?”
Sofia’s face contorts with rage. “I can’t believe you're taking her side in this! Have you lost your mind?”
As Sofia and Bianca descend into a heated argument, I feel tears of frustration welling in my eyes. This isn’t how I wanted this day to go. I didn’t come here to fight, to dredge up old wounds and create new ones.
“ENOUGH!” Mama’s voice, louder and more commanding than I’ve ever heard it, cuts through the chaos. We all fall silent, turning to stare at her in shock.
Mama stands, her hands planted firmly on the table, her eyes blazing. “Sit down, all of you,” she orders, “and shut up.”
We obey instinctively, cowed by this unexpected display of authority from our usually gentle mother.
“This is not what family does,” Mama says, her voice quieter now but no less intense. “We do not tear each other apart. We do not judge without understanding. And we do not,” she adds, fixing Sofia with a hard stare, “demand blind obedience from each other.”
She takes a deep breath, looking at each of us in turn. “Mia is right. Your father was not a saint. He did terrible things, things that kept me up at night. But he was also a good man who loved his family fiercely. People are complex, my girls. No one is all good or all bad.”
She turns to me, her eyes softening. “If you say Luca has changed, if you say you’re happy, then we need to trust you. But Mia,” she adds, her voice gentle but firm, “you need to understand our fear, our worry. It comes from love.”
I nod, feeling the fight drain out of me. “I know, Mama,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset everyone. I just… I just wanted a nice day with my family.”
Mama reaches out, taking my hand in hers. “And that’s what you’ll have,” she says firmly. “No more talk of Luca, or your father, or the past. Today is about family, about love. Can we all agree to that?”
One by one, we nod. The tension in the room slowly begins to dissipate. Sofia reaches out and squeezes my hand.
It’s as close to an apology as I’m going to get from my sister, and for now, I’ll take it.
As we settle back into our meal, the conversation gradually becomes lighter, more jovial. But I can’t shake the feeling that something has fundamentally changed. I’ve stood up for myself, for my choices, in a way I never have before. And while it was painful, while it caused conflict, I also feel… stronger. More sure of myself.
This is part of growing up. Of becoming my own person. It’s not easy, and it’s not always pretty, but it’s necessary.
As the meal progresses, the conversation shifts to happier topics. I listen eagerly as my sisters fill me in on everything I’ve missed. Chiara tells me about Nico’s birth, her eyes shining with love as she describes holding him for the first time. Bianca regales us with tales of Cara’s antics.
Sofia, her hand resting on her growing belly, talks about her hopes for her own child. “We don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet,” she says. “But Dom’s convinced it’s a son.”
As I watch my sister talk about her husband, about their future together, I feel a pang of longing. Not for Dom— never for Dom—but for the easy way Sofia speaks about her marriage.
Will Luca and I ever have that? That sense of partnership, of shared dreams?
The day passes in a blur of laughter, tears, and shared memories. At one point, I find myself alone in the kitchen with Bianca. She’s warming a bottle for Cara, and I’m struck by how naturally motherhood suits her.
“You’ve changed,” Bianca says suddenly, her eyes studying me. “You seem… stronger. More sure of yourself.”
I feel a blush creep up my cheeks. “I suppose I have,” I admit. “Being with Luca… it’s taught me a lot about myself. About what I’m capable of.”
Bianca nods, a small smile playing at her lips. “I’m proud of you, girl,” she says. “It takes courage to stand up for yourself, especially to this family.”
Her words warm me from the inside out. “Thank you,” I say softly. “That means a lot, coming from you.”
As the day wears on, I find myself losing track of time. The hours slip by, filled with conversation and laughter and the simple joy of being with the people I love.
It’s only when I notice the sky darkening outside that I realize how late it’s gotten. “Oh, no,” I gasp, jumping to my feet. “I didn’t mean to stay so long. Luca will be worried sick.”
My mother’s face tightens at the mention of Luca’s name, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she pulls me into a tight hug. “Promise you’ll visit again soon,” she whispers.
“I promise,” I say, hugging her back just as tightly.
My sisters crowd around me, each wanting one last hug, one last moment. “Please visit again,” Chiara says, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
“I will,” I assure her. “I want to be around to watch Nico grow up.”
As I make my way to the car, I feel a strange mix of emotions. Joy at having spent this time with my family, sadness at having to leave, and an unexpected eagerness to get back to Luca.
The drive back to Luca’s estate— our estate, I remind myself—seems to take forever. By the time we pull up to the house, night has fully fallen.
I rush inside, calling out Luca’s name. There’s no response. A tendril of worry starts to curl in my stomach.
I find him in his study. He’s sitting at his desk, head in his hands, looking utterly distraught. My heart leaps into my throat.
“Luca?” I call out, my voice trembling with fear. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”