Chapter Twenty-nine #2
Like she’s finally opening a door she kept locked for far too long.
“Do you remember the Moretti anniversary?” she asks.
The words curl through the room like smoke.
How could I forget?
“Yes,” I murmur.
“You danced with Lorenzo,” she continues. “You looked like an intimate couple.” Her eyes narrow slightly, examining me the way a jeweler studies a flawed stone. “That didn’t sit well with John, especially after he publicly suggested you and Ian would soon be engaged.”
My heart stutters.
“So he wanted to stop the engagement,” she says. “He pushed your father to end it quietly.”
I swallow. Hard. “So why didn’t you agree with him?” My voice is barely sound at all, more breath than words.
Her expression twists. I can’t tell if she’s ashamed or merely annoyed by the memory.
“Your father needed John’s support in several partnerships,” she says. “John was an important ally.”
Then her eyes lock on mine, the first true honesty I have ever seen in them.
“So your father offered him a deal.”
Silence.
The room feels too small. Too bright. Too quiet.
I press a hand to my belly because something inside me drops, heavy and sick, and the babies shift like they sense it too.
The deal.
My mind flashes back to that night. I can still feel Lorenzo’s hand twitch when I begged him not to kill my father. I remember the moment he paused, jaw clenched, chest heaving, how he actually listened to me for one second.
And then Andres showed him something on John’s phone.
Whatever he saw there turned Lorenzo feral. One second of mercy vanished, and he ripped all restraint away, killing my father in less than five heartbeats.
Is this what he saw?
My stomach twists painfully.
“What deal?” I manage, even though my voice shakes. I pretend I’m calm, but every nerve in my body is screaming. I’ve wanted to know the truth for months. Needed it. But I was too terrified to hear an answer that wouldn’t justify the blood staining his hands.
Too afraid Lorenzo’s reason wouldn’t be enough, and that I’d forgive him anyway.
Because what does that make me?
I blink hard, forcing away tears.
“There was an agreement,” my mother says, swallowing. I see the way her throat bobs, the way her fingers tremble. That tells me everything, this is going to be bad. Very, very bad.
“Your father was part of the Organization.”
The world tilts.
The name means nothing to me, but something in my bones reacts like it should.
“What is the Organization?” I whisper.
“A human trafficking enterprise.”
The words land like a punch to the gut.
My hand flies to my mouth. I genuinely think I might throw up. My skin prickles with cold sweat, and I grip the edge of the table to steady myself.
No.
Not him.
Not my father.
I shake my head, but she keeps talking, relentless, because the truth has momentum and it’s not slowing down.
My stomach twists and I grip the counter so hard the marble bites into my skin.
“They both agreed,” she says quietly, “with the head of the Organization, that once you and Ian were legally married, John would have access to you.”
Everything inside me stops.
Access.
The word echoes in my skull, hollow and monstrous.
My mother looks anywhere but at me, her fake nails digging into her palm. “Access to you means he could do whatever he wanted. Anything. With anyone. Whenever he pleased.”
A sound tears out of me, half breath, half sob.
My knees almost give out.
She keeps going, voice cracking. “Your father sold you, Serena. He traded you to John to secure unconditional support, from John, from the Organization, from the FBI. You were his bargaining chip.”
I shake my head again, harder this time, like denial could rewind the whole world.
No.
No, no, no.
My throat burns, the air thick and sharp as broken glass.
I can’t breathe.
The babies kick, violent little reminders that I’m not just fighting for myself anymore.
My mother presses her lips together. “That’s why Lorenzo killed them,” she whispers, as if saying his name might shatter me.
“Because your father didn’t just betray you.
He sentenced you to a life worse than death.
And Lorenzo found the proof, probably messages, plans, legal intent. Your father signed away your freedom.”
Silent tears run hot down my face.
All those nights wondering if I could live with loving a killer—
And he was the only one who actually protected me.
But she isn’t finished.
“And Ian.”
She says his name like a curse.
“He’s still alive. He’s still involved. And the Organization still considers you property. That is why you are in danger. That is why I vanished. Because once Lorenzo destroyed their deal, their attention shifted, to me, and now to you.”
Her voice breaks, but I barely hear it over the roar in my head.
My father didn’t fail me. He volunteered me. The realization settles cold and heavy in my chest, sharper than any betrayal I thought I understood before. John wasn’t just planning a marriage. He was buying ownership.
And Lorenzo, violent, reckless, infuriating Lorenzo, did the only thing left: he burned the contract to ash and the men with it.
My chest heaves, and the truth slams into place with terrifying clarity:
Lorenzo didn’t destroy my life. He saved it. He saved me from being bought, used, and eventually discarded.
And the worst part?
I pushed him away for being exactly the monster I needed.