32 | Just leave me alone
The summer night air is warm against my skin as I stand on the balcony, the white silk robe clinging to me like a ghost of something once beautiful. A glass of deep red wine rests in my hand.
The backyard stretches before me, bathed in soft moonlight, silent and calm, a stark contrast to the chaos inside my head.
For a moment, I close my eyes, reveling in the brief illusion of peace until a knock at the door shatters it.
I don't answer, but the door creaks open anyway. I turn around and I see Chase, my older brother.
He steps onto the balcony, standing beside me, his expression unreadable.
"You'll catch a cold," he says, his voice quiet, as if afraid to disturb the night. "Wearing something that thin."
I let out a bitter laugh, swirling the wine in my glass. "Maybe if I get sick, someone will finally love me, don't you think?"
"Aurelia, don't talk like that."
I turn to face him, raising a brow. "Why not? It's the truth, isn't it?"
Chase exhales, running a hand through his hair. "You're my little sister. I care about you."
I stare at him, letting the weight of his words settle between us before I finally ask, "Did you care about me when Luciano and Papa forged that marriage certificate? Or did you just stand there and watch?"
He flinches, but he doesn't look away. "It's complicated, Aurelia. We don't live by normal rules. We're part of the Costa Mafia—"
"I know that," I cut him off, my voice sharp. "But it doesn't change the fact that you didn't even try. You didn't protest, you didn't stop them, you didn't even ask them to wait until I woke up from a coma."
Chase's jaw tightens. "I didn't want anyone to die, and Luciano sure as hell didn't want to kill any of us."
I scoff, shaking my head. "I know... I know that.
But I keep thinking, if I had woken up, and you had asked me, if you had told me that I needed to take Ciara's place, I would have done it.
" I take a deep breath, my voice breaking slightly.
"Not for Papa. Not for Mamma. But for you.
I would have married Luciano to keep you safe, just like you always tried to protect me from Papa when we were kids. "
Chase looks at me in shock. "Aurelia—"
"Please," I whisper. "Just leave me alone."
He hesitates, but in the end, he nods. Without another word, he turns and walks back inside, closing the door behind him.
I down the rest of my wine and stare out at the backyard, feeling the ache in my chest grow heavier.
────??────
The mansion is silent, swallowed by the thick silence of the night, but my mind is anything but quiet. It screams with memories I don't want, thoughts I can't escape, emotions I don't want to feel.
The wine wasn't enough. Nothing ever is. I need more, more to drown out the ache, more to erase the hollow feeling inside me.
So, I slip out of my bedroom, and I tiptoe barefoot down the grand staircase, the silk of my robe whispering against my skin.
The hallway is dimly lit, casting long shadows, but I don't care. I move straight to the kitchen, pulling open drawers, searching through cabinets, my hands shaking.
Nothing.
The frustration builds, burning in my chest, making it harder to breathe.
I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. Of course, they wouldn't leave anything here. Luciano isn't stupid, he knows me too well.
But he always keeps liquor in his office.
I stumble out of the kitchen, my head dizzy, my vision blurring at the edges.
The hallway stretches before me, endless and cruel, and I move too quickly so my footing slips.
My foot catches on something, I don't even know what, but the next thing I know, I'm falling.
The impact is sudden. My body crashes into a large vase, sending it shattering to the floor. The sharp sound slices through the mansion's silence, echoing like a scream.
For a moment, I just lie here on the floor, my breath coming in short gasps. The pain doesn't register immediately, not until I shift and see the blood on my hands, the crimson staining my pale skin, mixing with the broken porcelain.
Still, I don't care.
Maybe I should leave the cuts, let them bleed out. Maybe I deserve to feel this. Maybe—
"Aurelia?" The voice is sharp, laced with concern.
I can hear footsteps echo down the hallway until he's here by my side.
Luciano stands over me, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Before I can even try to push myself up and get away from him, he moves.
Strong arms wrap around me, lifting me effortlessly from the floor. The scent of him, smoke, leather, something distinctly masculine, fills my senses as he cradles me against his chest. His grip is firm, unyielding, but there's something almost gentle in the way he holds me.
"You're bleeding," he mutters, more to himself than to me. His jaw is tight, his eyes dark as they scan the cuts on my hands.
I should say something. I should push him away. I should tell him to leave me the hell alone.
But I don't because I feel dizzy and tired.
I just close my eyes, resting my head against him, letting exhaustion pull me under.