Chapter 29
M y mind is like a flower petal caught in the wind, floating somewhere between what I’ve learned and what I can’t bear to fully accept. The images keep spinning around the revelation, like a hamster on a wheel I can’t seem to stop. The pieces are all there, but the truth is still too heavy for me to wrap my hands around.
My father killed my mother.
There’s no romanticized version of her drowning on a sailboat and leaving behind a daughter and a grieving husband. No storm or two-week search for her that I’ve clung to for years. No—he knew where she was the entire time. He covered up her death like it was just another inconvenience in his world.
Maybe it was an accident. A mistake in the heat of the moment. But the cold truth is still there—he killed her. And I—I was there. I saw it, but I couldn’t understand it. Not then. Not at that age.
I wipe away the sudden sting in my eyes, the feeling of helplessness creeping in, and I find myself closing off that memory again. It’s too much. But I know I can’t let it go. Not now. Not when it could have been the beginning of everything.
And that’s where the second part of the puzzle clicks into place.
Maybe Eloise’s rumor wasn’t so far-fetched after all. Maybe my father didn’t just want me out of the way because of any inheritance. Maybe he saw me as a witness to his crime—his biggest regret—and he tried to silence me before I could remember. He knew. He always knew. He was afraid I’d remember and bring his empire down.
Maybe that’s why I was the one he kept closeted all these years—his little insurance policy. The daughter who would never speak out. Because if I had... If I had just understood what was happening... maybe I could have stopped him. But I couldn’t, and I didn’t.
Maybe that’s why the hits started. Maybe he wasn’t just protecting his empire. Maybe he was protecting himself from me.
I shake my head, trying to clear the fog that clouds my mind, but it doesn’t work. All I can see is his face, the man I used to idolize. The man who destroyed my childhood with something so heinous my child’s mind locked it away.
Locked it away in the same manner Luca locks himself away from me.
His presence feels like a weight on my chest, a constant reminder of the distance he’s putting between us, the way he keeps stepping away whenever I try to get closer. His anger, his frustration—they come out in his silence, in the way he shuts down every time I push him.
Maybe that’s his way of protecting himself. Maybe he’s afraid that I’ll break, or I won’t choose to forgive him.
But that’s not the part that stings the most.
No, what stings is the part I’m too scared to admit: Luca was my first. My first boyfriend, my first love, my first lover. And when it came time for him to choose—he chose to walk away.
He was the first one who chose to leave me behind. And that cuts deeper than anything else.
I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to bridge the distance between us when every time I try, he pulls away. He keeps choosing the distance over me.
“Lenny?”
I blink and look over at Luca, surprised to see him standing right in front of me, his eyes guarded. I didn’t even realize he’d come into the living room; I was so lost in thought. My mind is a jumble of unfinished memories and half-formed conclusions, none of which make any more sense than they did when they first hit me.
“I’m sorry,” I say, barely recognizing the crack in my voice. “I was just... thinking.”
Luca nods, taking a step closer. “I can see that.”
I swallow, trying to push past the walls I’ve built around myself. “Yeah. Just... stuff.”
He looks at me for a long moment, his brow furrowed as if he’s trying to read me. “Anything you want to share?”
I open my mouth, but the words don’t come out. How do I tell him what I’m feeling when I can barely sort through it? That I miss him even though he’s right here. That it hurts each time he pushes me farther away and then sleeps just down the hall.
How do I tell him he’s still breaking my heart after all these years?
So, I don’t. I change the subject.
“Have you found out anything about my mother’s disappearance?”
Luca exhales, stepping farther into the room, arms crossed. “I’ve gone through all the files, all the reports. The boat was signed out of the marina the night she went missing, the storm hit, and the Coast Guard didn’t deploy until the morning because of it. The boat was found capsized, no sign of her. Case closed. She was declared dead a month later.”
The sharpness of his words lingers, and I press my lips together, not letting the anger inside rise.
“Well, keep looking. Look for any evidence of a cover-up. There has to be something more. Other boats signed out that night. Maybe from other marinas? Or maybe someone else checked the boat out—someone who wasn’t my mother.”
He shakes his head, as if this is all a waste of time. “We’re talking about a case that’s been closed for two decades, Len. Your mother’s death isn’t some grand conspiracy. She didn’t make it through the storm.”
His words cut deeper than I expect, and my breath hitches. But I’m not going to back down.
“It wasn’t the fucking storm.” My voice is low, but it carries. “My father pushed her down the stairs.”
Luca freezes. He blinks at me like he didn’t hear me correctly. “What?”
“He killed her.”
There’s a flicker of disbelief in his eyes, followed by a mixture of confusion and... anger. He stands there for a moment, jaw working, trying to process what I just said. “You’ve always said how devastated he was.”
“Yeah, well, he was acting. You men seem to be good at that.”
He narrows his eyes but recovers quickly at my jab. “Why didn’t you tell us that earlier?” His voice is sharp now, frustrated. “What the hell do you expect me to do with that information, after I wasted half a fucking day chasing my tail?”
“Well, I apologize for being a waste of your time. Maybe because I didn’t remember until now,” I snap back, my temper flaring. “If you saw your mother killed, you wouldn’t exactly be excited to remember it either.”
I see his jaw tighten, his cheeks flush red, and the muscles in his neck visibly straining. “You need to fucking watch what you say,” he growls. “I’m done here.”
Before I can respond, he turns, walking toward the hallway. My heart races with a mix of anger and frustration. Every time he gets like this, it’s as if he builds a wall between us. And once again, I can’t break through it. I’m fucking tired of it.
“Don’t walk away from me,” I snap, stomping after him. “I’m sick of this.”
He doesn’t look back or slow his pace. But I’m done being the one to always back off.
I catch up to him in the hallway and grab his arm.
He spins around too quickly, and before I know it, I’m slammed against the wall. His chest is pressed against mine, his breath coming in sharp bursts, his eyes stormy with emotion. The tension between us crackles, a mix of frustration, longing, and something I can’t quite name.
“What do you want from me?” he yells, his voice breaking.
“You! All I want is you.” The words burst out of my throat, heavy and suffocating.
His body stills for a moment, as if he’s holding back. And then something changes. Something inside him snaps, and without warning, his lips crash against mine. It’s a kiss that feels like the world is collapsing around us, an overwhelming rush of heat and need. It’s raw, desperate—like he’s finally letting go of everything he’s been holding inside.
I melt against him, my hands instinctively moving to his chest, feeling the heat of his body under my fingertips. His lips are insistent, pushing against mine with a fierce urgency, as if he’s trying to say everything he can’t put into words. His hands slip around my waist, pulling me closer, and the kiss deepens, consuming me. I match the intensity of his kiss, my own body reacting, responding to his every movement.
The taste of him is intoxicating—rich, urgent, and so hauntingly familiar it makes my heart ache. His tongue brushes against mine, and I can feel the weight of everything between us—the years of distance, the unresolved pain, the unspoken words. It all builds, a simmering storm that’s finally breaking free.
My chest heaves, my pulse racing as I press myself even closer to him. I can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s fighting to keep control, but I don’t want him to. I want to feel everything. I want to feel him. I want to break down every barrier he’s built and finally reach the man beneath the anger and the distance.
His hand grabs my throat, and his desperation moves from my mouth to my neck and collarbone. “This is what you want, Len?” His voice is deep, raspy, and full of need.
“Yes.” My answer is just as desperate. More. I need more.
He sucks and nips at me, pinned to the wall by his body, and presses his knee between my legs, confining me more. “You want me to take you right here in the fucking hallway?”
My hands are all over him, pulling at his hair and holding onto him, afraid he’ll pull away.
He strikes out quickly, snatching both my wrists and pinning them above me. “Bury my cock in you?”
“Yes, Luca.”
His pupils are blown wide, the black nearly consuming the rich blue. He unbuttons my pants and shoves his hand into my panties, finding me soaked. “Of course, you’re fucking wet.” He licks up the column of my neck, and I gasp when he shoves two fingers into me, thrusting hard and palming my clit. “Because all you want is to complete your collection. Is that it?”
Confusion and pleasure collide within me, and I can’t speak as he consumes me.
“You fucked the two of them, and now you only need me to get you off too.” He kisses me hard, our teeth colliding. The taste of blood mingles with the fire coming off him, but it’s not passion. It’s just anger. It’s not what I want.
“Luca.” I gasp, pulling back from him.
“You wanted this; I’ll fucking give it to you.” He works my pussy with his fingers, and I can’t stop the reaction of my body to his touch. I’ve starved for it, but I feel out of control. He feels out of control.
“No, Luca.” I try to pull my hands down, but he tightens his iron grip. “Stop!” I push against him with my body, but his mouth is on mine again, silencing me with another bruising kiss. Tears well in my eyes as I fight against the orgasm that is betraying me. I don’t want him like this. This is not Luca.
It’s not my Luca.
He’s shaking, his muscles so tense like he’s still fighting against something. So, I stop fighting. I force myself to relax. I steel my face to a neutral expression as tears streak my cheeks.
“No, Luca.” My quiet command breaks whatever possession took him over. “Not like this. Please.” My chin quivers on the last word, and he blinks, like a fog clears from him. He yanks himself back from me as if touching me burns him, putting his back to the other side of the hall.
Horror drenches him, and he looks at his hand as if it doesn’t belong to him, then looks back at me.
“Luca.” I put my hands out in front of me, but they are shaking. I take a half step toward him, and he stumbles back, farther away from me. “Tell me how to reach you.” I whisper my plea.
“J–Just,” he chokes on his emotions as they pour out of him. Tears glisten in his eyes, and I can finally see past the facade his anger gives him.
It’s loathing. For himself.
He—he hates himself.
“Just don’t.”
“No, please don’t—” …Go.
But he’s already gone.
A choked sob wrenches out of me as I slide down the wall, my tears falling with me.