Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
cesare
The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor is the only sound in the hospital room as I sit by Vittoria's bedside.
It's been hours since she was brought in, and she still hasn't regained consciousness.
The doctors assure me this is normal, that her body needs time to heal, but every minute feels like fucking eternity.
I can't stop staring at the bruises on her neck, stark against her pale skin like a goddamn necklace. The image of Domenico Costa's hands around his own daughter's throat plays over and over in my mind, fueling rage I can barely contain.
My phone buzzes with another update from Lorenzo:
We've had men combing the city for Domenico, but the bastard's managed to evade us. He knows he's a dead man walking.
A soft groan from the bed snaps my attention back to Vittoria. Her eyelids flutter, and I lean forward, gently taking her hand.
"Tori?" I say softly. "Can you hear me?"
She blinks slowly, eyes unfocused at first. Then her gaze locks onto mine, and I see a flicker of recognition.
"Cesare?" she croaks, voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm here," I assure her, squeezing her hand gently. "You're safe now. You're in the hospital."
Confusion clouds her features before memory returns. Her eyes widen in panic, and she tries to sit up, wincing in pain.
"Easy," I say, gently easing her back down. "You're hurt. You need to rest."
"My father," she gasps, tears welling in her eyes. "He—”
"I know," I cut her off, unable to bear hearing her recount the attack. "We have the security footage. He won't hurt you again, Tori. I fucking promise you that."
She looks at me, eyes filled with pain and fear. "You know," she whispers. "You saw what he did?"
I nod, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. Has she forgotten that I knew already? That I told her I knew? "Why didn't you tell me how bad he hurt you, Tori? I could have protected you."
A bitter laugh escapes her, followed by a wince. "Protected me? Like you protected me today?"
Her words sting, but I can't deny their truth. I failed her. "I'm sorry," I say, words feeling wholly inadequate. "This is my fault. I should have had better security."
Vittoria shakes her head slightly, then grimaces. "It's not your fault," she says softly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have blamed you. It's his. It's always been his."
The resignation in her voice breaks something inside me. How long has she lived with this? How many times has she suffered in silence?
"Tell me," I say, voice low and urgent. "How long has this been going on, Tori? How long has he been hurting you?"
Vittoria closes her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks. When she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper. "As long as I can remember. At first, it was just... harsh words, impossible expectations. But as I got older, and he started drinking more..."
She trails off, her body shuddering with silent sobs. I want to gather her in my arms, shield her from the pain of these memories, but I'm afraid of hurting her further.
"It's okay," I murmur, gently stroking her hair. "You don't have to talk about it if you're not ready."
She shakes her head slightly. "No, I... I need to say it. To finally tell someone." She takes a shaky breath. "The first time he hit me, I was twelve. I'd gotten a B on a math test. He said I was embarrassing the family, and that I needed to learn my place."
Each word is like a knife to my heart. I think of my own children, of the fierce protectiveness I feel toward them. The idea of raising a hand to them is incomprehensible.
"After that, it became... regular," Vittoria continues, voice hollow.
"Any perceived slight, any failure to meet his standards, whenever he was stressed or angry, it was always me who felt his wrath.
I learned to hide the bruises, to make excuses.
My brothers tried to protect me when they could, but they couldn't always be there. "
"And your mother?" I ask, dreading the answer.
Vittoria's eyes fill with fresh tears. "She tried, in her own way. But she was scared of him too. We all were."
The pieces fall into place: Vittoria's strength, her ability to mask emotions, her fierce independence. They weren't just personality traits; they were survival skills.
"I'm so sorry, Tori," I say, voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea. If I'd known..."
She turns to look at me, her eyes searching my face. "Would it have made a difference?" she asks softly. "When the arrangement was made, I was just a pawn in a larger game. My wellbeing wasn't a factor."
Her words hit like a physical blow because they're true. When I agreed to this marriage, Vittoria was nothing more than a means to an end, a way to secure an alliance. I didn't care about her as a person, didn't consider what her life might have been like.
"Things are different now," I say firmly, meeting her gaze. "You're my wife, Tori. Your wellbeing is my top priority."
A small, sad smile tugs at her lips. "Because I belong to you now?" she asks, a hint of bitterness in her tone.
I pause, carefully considering my words. "No," I say finally. "Because you're part of my family now. And family protects each other."
Vittoria's eyes widen slightly at my words, clearly surprised. Not everyone is her father. I won't ever hurt my family. Others? Definitely. Anyone who harms my family will feel the consequences. But I will never harm those I hold close.
"I know our marriage didn't start conventionally," I continue. "But that doesn't change the fact that you're my wife now. I made a vow to protect you, and I intend to keep it."
She's silent for a long moment, eyes searching my face like she's trying to gauge my sincerity. Finally, she speaks, her voice soft but steady. "What happens now?"
I lean forward, gently taking her uninjured hand. "Now you focus on healing. And I..." I pause, jaw clenching as I think of Domenico Costa. "I make sure your father never hurts you again."
Fear passes over Vittoria's face. "Cesare, please, he's still my father. I don't want—”
"He lost the right to call himself your father the moment he laid a hand on you," I interrupt, voice hard. "What he's done... it's unforgivable, Tori. In our world, family is everything. To betray that, to hurt your own child... there have to be consequences."
Vittoria closes her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I know," she whispers. "I just... I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me."
I reach out, gently wiping away her tear. "Listen to me, Tori. None of this is your fault. You're not responsible for your father's actions, or for what happens to him because of them. Your only job right now is to get better."
She nods slightly, wincing. "Please," she whispers. "Don't get hurt."
I can't remember the last time someone cared for me the way Tori does. Christ, the lines I'd set for us blurred long ago, and now I'm finding it hard to locate where the hell they even were.
Tori has gotten under my skin, and the truth is, I quite like her there.
"I'm tired," she murmurs, eyelids drooping.
"Rest," I tell her softly. "I'll be here when you wake up."
As Vittoria drifts off, I pull out my phone to text Lorenzo.
Any updates on Domenico's whereabouts?
Nothing concrete yet. But we've got eyes on all airports and train stations. He won't get far.
Good. Keep me posted. And Lorenzo? When we find him, I want to deal with him personally.
Understood, Father. We'll bring him to you.
I put my phone away and turn back to Vittoria's sleeping form. Watching the rise and fall of her chest, I'm struck by how much I've come to care for her. That wasn't something I'd ever imagined happening.
With Beatrice, the depth of feelings I have for Tori weren't there. Sure, Bea was my wife, the mother of my children, but I didn't care deeply for her. I never loved her.
Christ. Is that what I'm feeling for Tori? Love?
As I sit by Vittoria's bedside, lost in thoughts about my growing feelings, I see her eyes flutter open. She blinks a few times, seeming to orient herself, before her gaze settles on me.
"You're still here," she says softly, a hint of surprise in her voice.
I lean forward, taking her hand gently. "Of course. I told you I would be."
She's quiet for a moment, studying my face. Then, hesitantly, she asks, "Cesare, can I ask you something?"
"Anything," I reply, curious about what's on her mind.
Vittoria takes a deep breath, wincing slightly. "Your first wife, Beatrice… what was your marriage like?"
The question catches me off guard. It's not something I've discussed with anyone, let alone Vittoria. But looking into her eyes, I see genuine curiosity and perhaps insecurity.
I sigh, leaning back. "It was complicated," I begin, choosing words carefully. "Beatrice and I, our marriage was arranged, much like ours. We were young, both carrying the weight of family expectations."
Vittoria nods, encouraging me to continue.
"We grew to care for each other, in our own way," I say. "She was a good mother, a capable partner in business matters. But love..." I trail off, shaking my head. "That wasn't part of the equation."
"Did you ever wish it was?" Vittoria asks softly.
I consider her question, thinking back on my years with Beatrice. "At times, perhaps," I admit. "But in our world, love can be a liability. It can cloud judgment, make you vulnerable. Beatrice and I had a mutual understanding, a partnership. In many ways, that was enough."
Vittoria is quiet, processing my words. Then she asks, "And now? With me?"
My heart rate quickens at her question. It's something I've been grappling with myself. "With you, Tori..." I pause, struggling to find the right words. "It's different. You've surprised me, challenged me in ways I didn't expect. I find myself caring for you in a way I didn't anticipate."
Her eyes widen slightly at my admission. "Cesare, I—”