Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Nico
"He won't see anyone," Pietro says, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Not the therapists. Not the doctors. Not even Vittoria."
I lean back in my chair, arms crossed. "He saw Lily."
Pietro's head snaps up. "What?"
"She wandered into his wing." I remember the sound of Bruno's laugh. "He was playing with her. Laughing."
"Bruno? Laughing?"
"For about three minutes. Then Kristen came to get Lily, and he turned back into..." I trail off, searching for the right word.
"An asshole?"
"I was going to say ice sculpture, but sure."
Pietro exhales, long and slow. "The physical therapist says he's refusing to do his exercises. Just sits by that window like he's waiting for something."
"Maybe he is."
"Waiting for what? Permission to be miserable forever?" Pietro's jaw tightens. "He should have been Don. He knows he should have been Don. And instead he woke up in a wheelchair while I sat in his chair."
"You didn't ask for it."
"Doesn't matter." Pietro stands, moving to the window. His silhouette blocks the light. "He blames me. He blames himself. He blames God, probably. The only person he doesn't blame is the one who actually pulled the trigger."
I don't respond. There's nothing to say. The man who shot Bruno is already dead. But death doesn't fix what's broken inside my brother's head.
"The Russians," Pietro starts, turning back toward me. "Dmitri wants to meet. He's pushing for—"
A knock interrupts him. Three sharp raps.
"Come in," Pietro calls.
Liam enters, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His face reveals nothing. The man could witness the apocalypse and still look like he's reviewing quarterly reports.
"Is it done?" I ask before he's fully in the room.
"Signed them easily," Liam says.
I study him for a beat. Easily. Coming from Liam, that word could mean Jack Walker signed after a polite conversation over tea. It could also mean Jack signed while missing a few teeth and reconsidering his life choices.
With Liam, you never really know.
"Define easily," I say.
"He required minimal... persuasion." Liam's expression doesn't flicker. "Once I explained the situation clearly, he became quite cooperative."
Pietro leans against his desk. "Cooperative how?"
"He agreed to sign the divorce papers. Full custody to Ms. Thomas. No asset disputes. No future contact with the child unless Ms. Thomas explicitly permits it." Liam pauses. "He also agreed to relocate. Back to New York. Permanently."
Something loosens in my chest. A knot I didn't realize I'd been carrying.
"And the girlfriend?" I ask.
"She was present during our conversation." Liam's lips twitch—the closest he ever gets to a smile. "I believe she found Mr. Walker's previous claims about his circumstances to be... exaggerated. She left before I did."
Pietro catches my eye. There's a question there, one he won't ask in front of Liam. How far did this go?
I don't care how far it went. Jack Walker put his hands on Kristen. He stole from her. He tried to take her daughter. As far as I'm concerned, Liam could have mailed him back to New York in pieces, and I'd have slept fine.
"The papers?" I extend my hand.
Liam produces them from inside his jacket—crisp, official, bearing Jack's signature on every required line. I flip through the pages, scanning for anything missing. But it's all there. Complete.
She's free.
"Anything else?" Pietro asks Liam.
"The legal counsel will process the documents today. The divorce should be finalized within the week." Liam straightens his cuffs. "Regarding Mr. Walker's legal representation—I confirmed it was self-funded. No Russian involvement."
"You're certain?"
"Completely. He was simply a desperate man making desperate choices." Liam pauses. "He won't be making any more of them."
Pietro nods. "Good work."
Liam gives a small bow of his head and exits as silently as he entered.
The door clicks shut. Pietro stares at me.
"You're smiling," he observes.
I hadn't realized. I force my expression neutral. "No, I'm not."
"Nico." Pietro's voice softens. "This is a good thing. You're allowed to be happy about it."
Am I? In our world, happiness is a target painted on your back. The people we love become leverage. Weapons. Weaknesses waiting to be exploited.
But Kristen's face flashes through my mind. The way she laughed when Lily named those rabbits. The way she looks at me like I'm more than blood and violence. The way she fell asleep in my arms last night, trusting me completely.
Maybe some things are worth the risk.
"The Russians," I say, changing the subject. "What does Dmitri want?"
Pietro accepts the deflection. For now.
"Territory negotiations. They want the docks."
"Absolutely not."
"I know." Pietro sighs. "But we need to hear them out. Keep your enemies close and all that."
Kristen
My phone buzzes.
I glance at the screen. Jack Walker.
Every instinct screams to let it ring. To watch his name flash and fade into voicemail oblivion. But something cold settles in my gut. Jack doesn't call twice in one week unless he wants something. Unless he's planning something.
I answer before I can talk myself out of it.
"Kristen." His voice drips with that disappointed-father tone he perfected during our marriage. The one that made me feel six inches tall. "I have to say, I'm genuinely shocked at you."
"What do you want, Jack?"
"What do I want?" A bitter laugh crackles through the speaker. "I wanted to be a father to my daughter. But apparently, you've decided to put her in the middle of a goddamn mob family instead."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't play stupid with me. It never suited you." His words slice clean and sharp. "You have the audacity to have your criminal friends threaten me? To tell me to leave the city and stay away from my own daughter? To make me sign the divorce papers?"
What?
"Jack, I didn't—"
"Save it." His voice turns venomous. "I got the message loud and clear. Big scary men showing up at my apartment. Telling me what happens to people who don't cooperate with the Sartori family."
The room tilts. I grip the edge of the dresser to steady myself.
Nico. Nico did this.
"I'm leaving for New York," Jack continues. "Tonight. You'll never see me again. Neither will Lily."
The words should feel like victory. Like the ending I've prayed for since I first packed our bags and ran. But all I hear is the venom underneath. The way he's building to something worse.
"You think you're safe with them?" Jack's laugh sounds almost pitying now. "These people kill others, Kristen. They make people disappear. And you've got our daughter sleeping under their roof."
"You don't know anything about—"
"I know enough." His voice drops lower. Colder. "I thought I wanted to be close to Lily. I really did. But honestly? Having a family with a loser like you was the biggest mistake of my life."
The words hit like a fist to the chest. Not because they hurt—they don't, not anymore—but because I recognize them. The same script he's been reading from for five years. The same manipulation dressed up as honesty.
"Go to hell, Jack."
"Already there, sweetheart. Thanks to you."
I hang up before he can say another word. My hands shake so badly I nearly drop the phone twice before managing to set it down.
Breathe. Just breathe.
But I can't. Because Jack's voice keeps echoing in my skull.
Nico threatened Jack. Nico made him leave.
Without telling me. Without asking me. Just like Jack used to make decisions about my life without consulting me.
He went behind my back and made choices about my custody battle, my divorce, my life without saying a single word.
I need to find him. Now.
I find Nico in his room, standing by the window with his phone pressed to his ear. The second I push through the door, he turns. Whatever he sees on my face makes him end the call mid-sentence.
"What's wrong?" He's already moving toward me, shoulders squared, jaw tight. Ready for war.
It's sweet, really. This instinct to protect. To shield me from whatever threat just walked into my life.
Except this time, he's the threat.
"Jack called."
Nico's expression doesn't change. Not even a flicker. "And?"
"And he told me some interesting things." I cross my arms over my chest, trying to hold myself together. "About divorce papers he suddenly signed. About leaving Chicago permanently. About criminal friends making threats."
Still nothing. Just that steady, dark gaze watching me like I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve.
"What did you do, Nico?"
He doesn't deny it. Doesn't even hesitate. "I handled it."
"Handled it." I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "That's what you're calling it?"
"He signed the papers." Nico says it like he's reporting the weather. Like this is just another item checked off his to-do list. "Full custody. No asset disputes. He's relocating to New York. You're free."
Free.
The word should taste like victory. Like finally escaping the nightmare I've been living for five years.
Instead, it tastes like ash.
"Why didn't you tell me?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "Why didn't you ask me?"
Nico's brow furrows. Just slightly. Like I've said something in a language he doesn't quite understand. "You wanted the divorce."
"Yes."
"You wanted him gone."
"Yes, but—"
"So I made it happen." He spreads his hands, genuinely confused. "What's the problem?"
And there it is.
The gap between us, wider than I realized. He doesn't see it. Can't see it. To him, this is simple math. Kristen wanted X. Nico provided X. Problem solved.
"The problem," I say slowly, "is that you decided. Without me. About my life. My divorce. My custody battle."
"I was helping you."
"You were controlling me."
The word lands between us like a grenade.
Nico goes still. Completely.
"That's not—" He stops. Swallows. "I'm not him."
"I know you're not Jack." My chest aches with the truth of it. "But somewhere in all this protecting, you forgot to ask what I wanted."