Chapter Twelve
Serena
We step outside the mansion and for the first time in months I see the sky.
Not a ceiling. Not a flickering bulb. Not concrete.
A real sky. The air hits my face like a slap and I gasp at how cold it is, how clean it feels.
Tiny snowflakes melt on my cheeks and for a moment I simply stand there, stunned, letting the cold crawl into my bones because it is the first sensation that belongs to me and not to them.
Lorenzo drapes his jacket over my shoulders before I can protest. I should push it away.
I should refuse everything that comes from him.
But the cold sinks into my skin and the thought of getting sick, of harming my baby, my babies, makes me clutch the jacket tightly.
Two hearts. Two little lives pressed beneath my palm.
The thought alone makes my chest tighten until it hurts.
I breathe out and see the cloud of my own breath rising in front of me.
Life.
Outside.
Real.
Lorenzo watches me with this patient, wounded expression, as if every time his eyes leave my face he has to force them away.
His gaze keeps drifting from my eyes to my stomach and something heavy forms in my throat.
He steps closer and his hand finds my waist, steadying me.
He holds me with a gentleness that makes my ribs ache.
Maybe it is to keep me from slipping on the ice.
Or maybe it is because he does not want his babies to fall. I cannot dwell on that. Not today.
The ground shifts under my feet and I slip.
One heartbeat. Just enough to panic. Before I can fall, his arm tightens around me and he pulls me against him.
The concern on his face almost breaks me.
For a second I truly want to reassure him, to tell him I am fine, but the words stay locked behind my teeth.
He does not deserve reassurance. Not from me.
I walk away from him, trying to gather whatever pieces of dignity I have left, when suddenly my feet leave the ground.
Strong arms hook beneath my legs and back, lifting me effortlessly.
Heat radiates from his chest through the fabric of his shirt and I feel my body betray me, melting into him even as anger rises in me.
“I said I am fine.” My voice comes out sharp.
“You did not say anything, love.” His reply is even sharper. His anger presses against mine, but underneath it I hear the fear. I hate that I hear it.
As we approach the car, I see two figures leaning against it. At first they are blurred shapes. My vision has been worsening for months, another reminder of my captivity, my silence, my body turning into something I barely recognize. But when we draw closer, their faces sharpen.
Lev.
Andres.
Both men straighten instantly when they see me in Lorenzo’s arms. Their expressions crumble and rebuild in real time, moving through shock, grief and something like relief. And then their eyes fall to my belly. I instinctively pull the jacket tighter around myself, wishing I could disappear.
Lorenzo sets me down gently. Now the three of them stare at me like I am a ghost that has come back wrong.
Andres speaks first. “How are you, Serena?”
His voice is cautious, like he is afraid I might break if he touches me with the wrong tone. We were close before. He helped me when I could barely breathe. He was a friend. The ache in my chest tells me I missed him more than I want to admit.
“I am ok. Thank you.”
It is the safest lie I have left.
There is a beat of silence before Lev opens his mouth.
“Oh my God,” he blurts, eyes wide. He looks between me and Lorenzo and then back at me. I frown, confused.
“I cannot believe I am an uncle.”
Before I can react, he surges forward and wraps me in a massive bear hug. It is warm, solid, and familiar. Andres curses under his breath and pulls him off me.
“Lev, give her some space.”
Lev glares at him.
“Oh, shut up. She does not mind the hug.”
He turns to me with a proud, childish grin.
“You see? You actually upset her by interrupting the hug.”
I manage a small smile. Something soft stirs inside me. Lev and Andres were always like this around me. Lev with his loud absurdity, Andres with his annoyed quiet protectiveness. A strange kind of family. And seeing them like this now, bickering in the snow, makes something loosen behind my ribs.
“Wow. Didn’t know you joined the anti-hug task force,” Lev says dryly to Andres before walking straight by him and throwing his arms around me again. “Go ahead. Write me up.”
This time, I hug him back.
Not because I am strong.
Not because I am healed.
Because it is the first familiar comfort I have felt in months, and I cannot bring myself to reject it.
Over Lev’s shoulder I see Lorenzo watching. His eyes are on me. His face softens when he realizes I am not pushing Lev away. Something small flickers at the corner of his mouth. A smile. Barely there, but real.
And it terrifies me how deeply that smile hits me.
“Can you please call an Uber for me?” I ask Lev. He stares at me like I just confessed to eating small puppies for breakfast, his face twisting in disbelief as if I’ve personally offended his ancestors.
“Of course.” Lorenzo’s voice slices through the cold air, controlled but edged with irritation. He gestures toward his car, then to himself with deliberate emphasis. “Look at that. Your Uber is already here.” His eyes lock onto mine. “Get in the car, Serena.”
He says it like he expects obedience, like being rescued means he suddenly owns me again.
I feel heat rise in my chest.
“I am not coming anywhere with you.” My voice is sharper than the wind. “This changes nothing between us.”
He exhales my name and it scrapes against something vulnerable inside me.
“Serena,” he says, tired and furious at the same time. “You have been kidnapped and held captive for three months. Do you really think I am letting you get into a random car and disappear again? You are not going home alone. You are coming with me.”
I clench my teeth. I want to slap him. I want to kiss him. I want him gone forever. I want him to hold me until the nightmares stop.
Everything inside me is a battlefield and he walks through it without fear.
Andres and Lev exchange a look that screams we should not be here. I almost feel bad for them.
“Fine,” I snap, rolling my eyes to hide the tremor in my chest. “But I do not want you to drive me. I will go with Andres.”
The look on Lorenzo’s face darkens.
I wait for the explosion.
I wait for the order.
I wait for the possessiveness to come out like a blade.
Instead he says only,
“Ok.”
Just that.
A single word that throws me off balance more than his rage ever could.
I head straight for Andres’ car before Lorenzo decides to revoke his own permission. Just as I grab the door handle, Lorenzo’s hand clamps around my arm. My skin burns under his touch.
“This isn’t over.” His voice is low, steady, dangerously certain. I wish he did not still have the power to make my pulse stutter.
“It has been over for a long time,” I tell him. My voice shakes because I am lying to him and to myself at the same time. “You should move on. I know I did.”
Pain flashes across his face before anger smothers it.
For a second I almost reach for him.
He leans in closer, his eyes on my stomach, then on my face.
He exhales slowly, studying me like I’ve just told him the sky changed color.
“You didn’t move on,” he says, voice steady, almost patient.
“You tried to survive me.” His eyes burn into mine.
“But I am not a phase you outgrow. I am not a mistake you forget.” He steps closer, not touching, just close enough to make it hard to breathe.
“You can build walls, Serena. I’ll learn every brick.
And I will still find my way back to you. ”
Something inside me cracks. I slam the door in his face before he sees it. My hands are trembling as I lock the doors, and I only unlock it when Andres reaches for the handle, giving me a quiet, steady look meant to ground me.
The car moves slowly through the snow, and I rest my forehead against the cold window. The moment my skin touches the glass, the tears come. Soft at first, then uncontrollable, spilling down my cheeks in hot, shaking waves.
I am out.
I am out of that place.
But the freedom feels unreal, like something I might lose if I blink too long.
I barely remember anything from that room, and the fragments I do remember terrify me.
Shadows. Hands. Pain. The smell of disinfectant.
The sound of metal. I pray the rest never comes back. Some memories are meant to stay buried.
Three months trapped. Three months erased. Something inside me broke in that darkness. Something else twisted to survive.
I remember the moment I realized I was pregnant. The loneliness that swallowed me whole. I remember curling up on that mattress and begging the universe to send someone to hold me, anyone who cared whether I lived or died. But I was alone. So painfully, violently alone.
A sob tears out of me before I can swallow it. I press both hands to my belly because my babies are the only thing grounding me now. Two little lives. Two little beating hearts. The only warmth I felt in that room was theirs.
I miss the girls. I miss Sienna’s fire, Kylie’s clinginess, Clara’s softness. I miss Lev’s idiotic jokes and Andres’ quiet protectiveness. I miss the dogs. Pancake and Milkshake. . . God, I see them in my head, chasing the twins around the garden we never even had. Laughing. Running. Joy.
And most of all, I missed him.
Lorenzo.
The thought of him was the only light in that suffocating darkness, even when I hated myself for it.
I hated him. I needed him. I loved him. I wanted him dead.
I wanted him to come for me. Every conflicting emotion shredded me from the inside out until I was nothing but trembling bones and stubborn heartbeat.
My own family did not look for me. Not even a call. Not even a whisper. I expected nothing from my mother, but a piece of me still hoped she might care enough to lift a finger. She didn’t.
“Is there anything I can do?” Andres asks softly.
I don’t even realize I am sobbing loudly, ugly, shaking cries that feel ripped out of my ribs. I hold my belly tighter, like maybe I can shield my children from all the broken pieces inside me.
I shake my head because I can’t trust my voice. Andres looks at me, and sadness softens his face.
“It is not my business,” he says, “and it is between you and Lorenzo. It is up to him if he decides to tell you the truth. Or up to you if you decide to forgive him.” He hesitates. “But he loves you. He loves you more than anything, Serena.”
I wipe my face with shaking hands. “I wish that erased everything he has done.”
Andres exhales and looks away for a moment. “I blame myself too,” he admits quietly. “I was the one who showed him what I found. He made the decision, but I triggered it. And, Serena. . . what I found was horrifying. He acted to protect you.”
My stomach knots so painfully I feel nauseous.
“I do not care what you found. He killed my father,” I whisper.
His expression darkens with something chilling. “No. He killed the General Attorney of the United States.”
My blood turns cold. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he says, voice low, “that the man you call your father did not deserve to be called a father at all. And if Lorenzo had spared him because of you. . . I would have taken him out myself eventually.”
I stare at him, horrified.
“What is wrong with you? What is wrong with all of you?” My voice trembles. “Fuck you, Andres. And Lorenzo.”
“I am sorry,” he says, though he absolutely is not. “But he made the right call, even if you cannot see it yet.”
When the car stops, I look out at the mansion. My mansion. My inheritance. Six black cars sit outside like a private army waiting for orders, and armed men in balaclavas guard every corner of the property.
I glare at Andres.
“What is this?”
“Lorenzo is making sure you are protected.”
“I do not want him doing anything for me.”
“You know that is impossible,” he says quietly. “You have not seen him these past months. You were suffering in your way, and what happened to you is a thousand times worse than what he went through. But he is my brother. Watching him destroy himself trying to find you destroyed all of us.”
The guilt twists deep, but so does the anger.
“I am sorry my kidnapping was such an inconvenience,” I snap, even though I don’t believe the words. I know they were worried. I know they hunted for me like wolves.
“You know that is not what I meant.” His tone softens. “Congratulations on your pregnancy.” His gaze drops to my belly with a genuine smile.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He steps out, helps me from the car, and holds the door.
“If you need anything, call us.”
“I do not have a phone.”
“I am sure you have everything you need inside,” he says with a soft grin, then drives away.
It takes me five long minutes to walk up to the mansion. My body is tired, heavy, sore. I do not even know if I have keys. I reach for the door handle, praying it is unlocked.
It is not the door that opens.
It is him.
Lorenzo.
Standing in my doorway.
In my house.
Looking at me like the last three months have carved him into someone I no longer recognize.
And worse. . . someone I still feel everything for.