CHAPTER FOUR
MARIA
Five years. Five long years.
Some days, it felt like a lifetime. Other days, like I had only blinked and suddenly found myself here—far away from everything I once knew, the life I had abandoned, and the altar I had fled.
Some sacrifices are necessary. I told myself that every single day. I whispered it into the dark when sleep wouldn’t come or when my son’s small, steady breaths filled the silence, grounding me in the choice I had made. It was all worth it in the end.
I built a life. It wasn’t an easy one, but it was one I could be proud of. It was a life that belonged to me and my son, a life free from the chains of my past. I moved from city to city, throwing myself into work and dedicating everything to helping women and children who had no one else to fight for them. And my son, Matteo—God, Matteo—he was my light, my purpose.
But even light casts shadows.
There were nights, like tonight, when everything pressed too hard against my chest. Nights when I sat alone with a glass of wine that I barely sipped, staring out the window, wondering what could have been. On these nights, when I allowed myself a moment of weakness, a tear or two would slip down my cheeks before I wiped them away and reminded myself that regrets had no place here. There were nights I would think of Luca, nights I couldn’t stop thinking of Lorenzo, and nights I would dream of Shade.
On this one night, my phone chimed, startling me from my never-ending thoughts.
I blinked at the screen. An email from Luca.
My stomach clenched before I even opened it. It had been months since his last message. He never pushed for more than I was willing to give. He never asked for my location or demanded explanations. We had settled into this uneasy relationship of distant siblinghood, connected by nothing but occasional emails that spoke of everything and nothing at once. He didn’t even know about the existence of my son. That was how distant we were, yet it was the only relationship I could give him. It took a while, but we got used to the mountain I had placed between us.
But tonight, his words were different.
Maria, please give me your number. We need to talk. It’s important.
I stared at the message for a long time, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Luca wasn’t the type to be serious, even when the world was burning around him. For him to send something like this…
I hesitated.
And then, against my better judgment, I typed out my number and hit send.
The call came almost instantly.
I pressed the phone to my ear. “Luca.”
A heavy breath on the other end. “Dio, Maria. You actually answered.”
I tried to keep my voice steady. “I figured you’d keep spamming me if I didn’t.”
A soft, humorless laugh. “You’re not wrong.”
Something in his tone made my stomach tighten. He sounded so different, serious, and not his usual jovial self. Gone was the Luca who never took anything seriously and always had a joke at the worst possible moment. This version of my brother sounded tired.
My heart squeezed. “How have you been?”
A pause. “Alive.”
That single word carried the weight of a thousand things left unsaid. It was so hard to hear him say that, and all the regret I had tried to bury came rushing down on me. It was unbearable. I grasped for air and held the tears. I didn’t want to break down.
I closed my eyes. “Luca…”
“No, it’s fine,” he cut in quickly as if brushing off the years of silence between us. “I just—shit, Maria, I don’t even know where to start.”
I swallowed hard. “Then just say it. You can start anywhere. You said there was something urgent.”
He took another deep breath before he finally spoke. “Enrico is trying to sell our inheritance.”
The room spun for a second. “What?”
“He’s making moves. Legal ones. And technically, he has the right to.”
My grip on the phone tightened. “That bastard.” I cursed out. I have always hated my uncle, and this just added to the list.
“Yeah.”
The inheritance wasn’t just money. It was our legacy, our father’s empire, and everything that had been built through blood and sacrifice. And Enrico? He was nothing but a vulture picking at the bones of what wasn’t his.
I pushed a hand through my hair. “What can we do to stop him?”
Luca hesitated. Then, quietly, “You.”
My breath hitched. “Luca—”
“If you come back, he won’t be able to touch it.”
I shot up from my chair. “What difference would me coming back make?”
Silence. A long, heavy pause before Luca finally spoke.
“If you come back, Maria, you’d marry Lorenzo.”
My heart stopped.
The words didn’t make sense at first. My brain refused to process them. Marry Lorenzo. Marry Lorenzo.
Lorenzo.
I sank back down onto the chair, gripping the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping me upright. “You’re joking. Why would you bring this up again?”
“I wish I was. He is willing.”
A hysterical laugh bubbled in my throat. “You’re actually insane. Luca, I left him at the altar. I ran. I disappeared for five years. What do you mean by he is willing? He can get married to any other—”
“He never got married.”
My mouth snapped shut. I had tried to resist the urge to search about Lorenzo for years. Part of me knew it would break me if I ever saw him with another woman or family—happy. It was selfish, but part of me didn’t want to see him with another.
The room suddenly felt too small. Now that I knew he wasn’t married, “What?”
Luca exhaled. “Lorenzo. He never married. Never got engaged. No arranged deals, no business transactions. Nothing. But he is willing to try again with you.”
That didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t. “That’s not my problem.”
“It could be.”
I pressed my fingers against my temple, trying to will away the headache forming. “Luca, I can’t just—”
“If you don’t come back, we lose everything.” He said it so simply and matter-of-factly as if it wasn’t ripping my heart in two.
I thought of Matteo, sleeping soundly in the next room. I thought of the life I had built and the freedom I had clawed for with bloodied hands. Thought of what it would mean to step back into a world I had barely survived the first time.
But I also thought of my father and his legacy—everything he had built, everything he had left for us. I thought of Luca, carrying the weight of it all on his shoulders, alone.
My throat tightened. “Lorenzo agreed to this?”
A small chuckle. “Yes, he did.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine. “Why?”
Luca’s voice softened. “Because despite everything, Maria, he never stopped caring for you, and this is for both of your interests.”
My eyes burned.
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to scream. I wanted to pretend those words didn’t send something painful crackling through my chest.
Instead, I closed my eyes and whispered the only question that mattered.
“When?”
Luca’s voice was gentle. “As soon as you can.”
I exhaled slowly, staring out the window at the life I had built. The life I might have to leave behind.
Five years ago, I ran.
And now, I might have no choice but to go back—to him.
****
The sound of the plane was steady, almost riveting, but my mind refused to settle.
Luca’s voice still echoed in my head, the way he had convinced me to come back.
“You can’t keep running forever, Maria. Sooner or later, you have to face this,” as if it was that easy.
Matteo shifted beside me, small fingers curling around mine in his sleep. My heart clenched. For five years, it had just been the two of us. No family, no roots, just moving from place to place, drowning myself in work so I wouldn’t have time to think about what I had left behind.
But now, I was going back. Back to the place I had sworn never to return to.
Kayla, my personal assistant, glanced at me from her seat, raising an eyebrow. “Nervous?”
“Terrified.”
She snorted. “Yeah, well. That’s what happens when you ghost your entire family for half a decade,” she teased. Kayla wasn’t just a personal assistant. Over the years, she had become a friend and the only other person I trusted Matteo with.
I shot her a look. “Not helping.”
“Just saying, you could have at least sent a Christmas card.”
I sighed, pressing my forehead against the window. It’s too late for that now because as we descended, a familiar nostalgia hit me.
Home.
The moment I stepped onto the estate, the memories came rushing in. Not much had changed. The house still stood like a silent monument to the past—grand and elegant but hollow. The last time I had walked through these doors, I had been a different woman. Now, I was a mother. A stranger to my own home.
Matteo tugged on my hand. “How long are we staying here?” He had already grown accustomed to our life being constantly on the move.
I stared at the house, “I don’t know, baby.”
His little face scrunched up in thought, but he nodded. The doors opened before I could talk myself into turning around.
Luca stood there, frozen.
And next to him—Lorenzo.
My breath caught. Every other thing became blurry as my gaze fixed on him.
Time had only sharpened him: the sharp jawline, the piercing blue-gray eyes, the way he stood like he owned the ground beneath him. I forced myself to look away before I became consumed by the sight of him.
Luca’s eyes flickered to Matteo, widening slightly, but he didn’t say a word. Neither did Lorenzo. They just stared, and I hated the way I felt exposed, like an open wound waiting to be picked apart.
I forced a half-smile, pretending my pulse wasn’t thundering in my ears. “Hello, brother.”
Luca blinked, shaking himself out of his trance. He strode forward, wrapping me in a hug so tight I nearly lost my breath.
I fought back the tears burning in my eyes. It had been so long since I’d hugged him and since I had felt anything but distance between us.
“Welcome home, sis,” Luca murmured, his voice rough.
I swallowed hard. Home. I wasn’t sure if it was anymore.
Matteo shifted beside me, his small fingers squeezing mine. I cleared my throat, gripping his hand tighter.
“Matteo, this is your uncle, Luca,” I turned to my brother. “Luca, this is my son, Matteo.”
Silence.
A slow inhale. A sharp exhale.
Luca’s expression froze, his usual composure slipping like a mask. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. His brows pulled together, not in anger, not in frustration—just in disbelief.
And Lorenzo—
I refused to look at him. I couldn’t. But I felt it.
Even without looking, I could picture it—the tightness in his jaw, the way his body would have gone rigid, and his muscles coiled like they might snap.
I forced myself to inhale, my chest tight, but still, I didn’t look at him. Because I already knew.
Lorenzo wasn’t just shocked.
He was still.
Luca crouched, his expression unreadable as he met Matteo’s curious gaze. “Matteo, huh?”
Matteo nodded. “Like Grandpa.”
Luca’s jaw clenched. He looked up at me, tears prickling in his eyes, but he didn’t push. Instead, he smiled at Matteo, ruffling his hair. “That’s a strong name, kid.”
Matteo beamed.
Luca stood, his gaze sharp. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I braced myself. “Because it wasn’t the right time.”
His eyes darkened. “Bullshit.”
Matteo tugged on my sleeve. “Mommy, I'm hungry.”
Perfect timing.
I forced a smile, glancing at Kayla. “Can you take him inside?”
Kayla, bless her, nodded immediately. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s find some snacks.”
Matteo hesitated but followed, glancing back at me once before disappearing into the house. I exhaled slowly, turning back to Luca and Lorenzo.
Luca crossed his arms. “Who’s the father?”
I lifted my chin. “I don’t know. It was just a fling.”
Lorenzo flinched so slightly that I almost missed it.
Luca’s eyes narrowed. “Maria.”
“Luca,” I shot back, voice tight. “Drop it.”
His jaw worked, but he didn’t press. Instead, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Damn it, Maria, you should have told me. Now I feel so bad being angry that you left all these years.”
I forced a smile, ignoring Lorenzo’s stare. “It’s good to see you, too.”
Luca groaned. “You’re impossible.”
Lorenzo still hadn’t said a word. He just stood there, quietly watching.
And still—I didn’t look at him. Because if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to breathe.
Then, Lorenzo’s voice hit me like a punch to the gut: low, steady, and deceptively calm.
“Hello, Maria.”
For a second, I forgot how to breathe, how to think, and how to exist.
The years hadn’t dulled anything about him. If anything, they’d sharpened him—like a blade honed to perfection. He had the same intense gaze, the same mesmerizing expression, and the same presence that made my world spin at the sight of him.
My fingers curled at my sides. “Lorenzo.”
His eyes flickered down, taking me in, his gaze lingering just a second too long, but he masked it just as quickly. Then, without looking away, he motioned to one of the butlers.
“Take their bags and show them to their rooms.”
Kayla and Matteo had returned, and for a second, she glanced at me for confirmation, and I gave her a small nod.
Matteo looked at me for a long moment as if trying to decide if he should go, and then he took Kayla’s hand and followed the butler.
Only when they were gone did Lorenzo move again. “Can we talk?”
I wanted to say no.
I wanted to run upstairs, lock myself in my room, and pretend I had never stepped foot in this house again. But I also knew that the sooner we got this over with, the better.
“Sure.”
I followed him through the hallways, past the grand staircase, and past the paintings I had once memorized as a child. Nostalgia and grief stirred up inside me, squeezing tight.
By the time we reached the backyard, my stomach was a knot of nerves. The pool shimmered under the bright lights, and the scent of the orange trees brought back old feelings to me. I stood by the edge, arms wrapped around myself and bracing for whatever he was about to say.
Lorenzo leaned against the railing, watching me. Always watching. “You left.”
A cold, humorless laugh slipped past my lips. So typical of Lorenzo to just go straight to the point, “Yeah, I figured we’d start with that.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Why?”
I forced myself to look at him. "Because I was pregnant."
Something in his expression changed. It wasn’t shock or anger. It was acceptance—like he had already known.
The realization made my chest tighten. “You knew.”
Lorenzo exhaled slowly, his gaze unwavering. “I suspected the night I came over to your room. I had seen the pregnancy kit on your nightstand. I wasn’t sure, but it had crossed my mind a few times.”
The admission knocked the wind out of me.
All these years, I had convinced myself that I left before he could ever find out and that I had taken my secret with me and buried it deep. But Lorenzo wasn’t stupid. He had always been able to read me better than anyone.
My nails dug into my palms. “You should have told me you knew.”
“And then what?” His voice was quiet and measured. “Would you have stayed?”
I hesitated. He knew the answer as well as I did.
His jaw tightened. “You should have told me, Maria. We could have figured something out.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “Right. Because we were such good friends?”
Lorenzo studied me for a moment, then sighed. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“Then why bring it up?”
His gaze darkened. “Because it does matter.”
The space between us shrank, my pulse pounded, and every nerve in my body was hyperaware of his proximity.
He took another step, close enough that I could smell the familiar scent of him, cedar and musk, dark and intoxicating. “If you don’t want to go through with this, tell me now. But don’t leave me standing at the altar again.”
A smirk tugged at my lips. “I thought you forgave me for that. Isn’t that why you wanted me to come back? That’s what Luca said.”
Lorenzo’s lips curled slightly. “Luca will say anything to get what he wants.”
The smirk faded.
His expression turned serious again. “I was hurt, Maria. But I was also afraid that I pushed you into something you didn’t want. That I made you so desperate or terrified you had to run.”
I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t him, that it was me, and that I had been drowning in guilt and fear and the overwhelming weight of my choices.
But I couldn’t say that.
Instead, I forced a smirk. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not that terrifying.”
Lorenzo’s eyes darkened with something dangerous. “Aren’t I?”
The words cut through every fiber of my being. Every fake smile and strength I had mustered came crashing down with a single sentence.
He moved closer, the heat of his body radiating against mine. I should have stepped back. I should have put space between us.
I didn’t.
His fingers brushed against my arm, barely there, and my breath hitched. My nerves coiled tighter, suffocating, electric. His gaze dropped to my lips, and I knew—knew—that if I leaned in just a little more, and if I let myself forget everything for just one second, he would lean in, too, and his lips would be on mine.
And I would let him.
“Terrified now,” he murmured. “Tell me.”
I knew he was challenging me. I knew we were testing the waters, and I would soon drown in him.
The word “Stop” sat on my tongue, refusing to move, refusing to break the spell we were tangled in.
His hand skimmed up my arm, fingers grazing my bare shoulder. My breaths came short and uneven. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to do something—push him away, pull him closer, anything to stop this unbearable anticipation.
His lips hovered just above mine. So close, too close.
“Maria—”
“Enrico wants to talk to us.”
Luca’s voice shattered the moment like a bullet through glass.
I jerked back, my pulse racing and my cheeks burning. Lorenzo didn’t move right away. His gaze lingered on me for a fraction of a second longer before he straightened, slipping back into his unreadable mask.
Luca arched an eyebrow. “Am I interrupting something?”
I forced a breath. “No.”
Lorenzo’s lips twitched. “Yes.”
Luca rolled his eyes. “Well, as fun as this is, Enrico is waiting, and from the looks of things, he is not pleased by your homecoming. So, let’s go.”