Chapter 49 #2
I stagger backward as the revelation hits me, even though I’d already half-suspected it from her texts with Andrea. My legs threaten to give way, but I lock my knees, refusing to collapse in front of her.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper, the words tearing from my throat. “I never knew.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Sabrina scoffs. “Mom made sure of that. Protected her perfect little mistake until the end.” Her face contorts with rage. “No one told me either. I overheard Mom tell one of her friends.”
The pieces slot together with terrible clarity. The bakery. The inheritance. All this time, I thought Sabrina resented me for not being like her. For… being an embarrassment. But it was deeper than that.
The weight of this truth threatens to crush me. My entire life has been built on a foundation of secrets and lies. And my sister—my half-sister—hates me enough to wish me dead for it.
It was about blood and belonging and a secret that destroyed our family long before I ever knew it existed.
“Dad loved me,” I say softly, the words more for myself than for her. “Whatever else is true, he loved me.”
“He loved a lie,” Sabrina snaps. “And it killed him. You killed him. Do you hear me, Alina? You took my dad from me. I fucking wish Mom had swallowed you instead. You’ve ruined everything. Everything, you cunt. You even had Maxwell killed.”
I look at Raffaele, who nods to confirm it. “He was trying to protect Sabrina,” he states. “Matteo shot him.”
“See!” Sabrina screeches. “I’ve lost everything because of you.”
Something snaps inside me—a dam breaking, a lock shattering, a final thread of restraint severing clean through. The rage that floods my system isn’t cold or calculating; it’s white-hot and primal, surging up from some deep place I didn’t know existed.
My vision narrows to a pinpoint, centered entirely on Sabrina’s smug, hateful face. Before I can think, before I can remember my injuries or my usual careful control, I’m moving.
My good hand shoots out, fingers tangling in Sabrina’s hair, wrenching her head back with a force that surprises even me. She cries out—a sharp, pained sound that brings me no satisfaction but doesn’t stop me either.
“I didn’t know!” The words tear from my throat, echoing off the concrete walls of this sterile room. “You’re punishing me for something I had no part in.”
Sabrina tries to jerk away, but my grip only tightens, forcing her to look at me. Her eyes widen with shock—she’s never seen this side of me. I’ve never seen this side of me.
“You could have told me,” I continue, my voice rising with each word.
“You could have sat me down and explained. You could have hated me to my face. But instead, you’ve ridiculed and bullied me most of my life.
I loved you, Sabrina. And I never knew why my brilliant and beautiful big sister hated me.
Imagine my surprise to learn she also plotted to have me killed.
And I never even knew why.” By the end of my tirade, I’m panting.
My broken arm throbs in its cast, a distant pain compared to the white-hot rage consuming me. Every lie, every sideways glance, every subtle dig Sabrina ever made suddenly makes perfect sense. She’d known. She’d always known.
“I don’t know when you decided I was to blame,” I spit the words at her. “Or when you decided I needed to die for something I didn’t do. But you’re wrong.” I scream the last part right into her face.
Sabrina’s face contorts, caught between fear and stubborn hatred. “You deserved everything I did,” she hisses through clenched teeth. “You were nothing but Mom’s mistake.”
I jerk her head back further, making her gasp. “A mistake who worked at the bakery while you were out chasing followers and fame. A mistake who took care of Mom while she was dying. A mistake who would have done anything—anything—to protect you.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Raffaele watching, his face impassive but his eyes burning with a dark intensity. He doesn’t intervene. Doesn’t pull me away or calm me down. He simply bears witness to this moment of transformation, this final shedding of the woman I was when he first collected me.
“I was your sister,” I say, my voice dropping to a whisper that somehow fills the entire room. “Whether we shared the same blood or not. I was your sister, and you threw that away.”
Something shifts inside me—a piece falling into place, a decision crystallizing. The rage doesn’t disappear, but it cools, hardens into something more dangerous. More permanent.
I release Sabrina’s hair and step back, my spine straightening as I look down at her. She stares up at me, mascara streaking down her cheeks.
“You know, I spent days on that yacht trying to convince myself I couldn’t let this happen,” I say, my voice steadier now. “Telling myself I couldn’t live with your death on my conscience. That I couldn’t be the kind of person who signs off on an execution.”
I turn to meet Raffaele’s gaze, and something passes between us—understanding, acceptance, unity. His eyes soften infinitesimally, just for me, just for this moment.
“But that’s not what this is,” I continue, turning back to Sabrina. “This isn’t me signing off on anything. This is you facing the consequences of your own choices. You tried to have me killed. You conspired with Andrea Russo to end my life. And now you face what comes after.”
The fear in Sabrina’s eyes sharpens, reality finally cutting through her hatred. “Alina,” she whispers, my name sounding strange on her lips after so much venom. “You can’t let him do this. We’re family.”
I lift my chin, studying her as if from a great distance. “I would have done anything for you,” I tell her, the words precise and cutting in their honesty. “But you wanted me dead. This is your board. Your game. Your loss.” I take a final step back; my decision made. “Checkmate.”
Turning away from her, I walk toward the door with steady steps that belie the trembling in my hands. I don’t look back. Don’t hesitate. This moment was inevitable from the second Sabrina decided I was better off dead.
Raffaele’s voice follows me, low and meant just for my ears as I pass him. “I’ll be right up.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak again. The door feels heavier than it should as I push it open, the cool air of the stairwell hitting my flushed face like a slap.
“Alina!” Sabrina’s scream tears through the air behind me, high and desperate. “Don’t leave me here! Alina!”
I start up the stairs, each step taking me further from the basement, from Sabrina, from the girl I used to be. Behind me, the heavy door swings shut, muffling Sabrina’s continued pleas. But not enough to block out what comes next.
The sharp crack of Raffaele’s gun reverberates through the concrete walls, cutting off Sabrina’s voice mid-scream. Then silence, absolute and final.
I pause on the stairs, my hand gripping the railing for support. Tears burn behind my eyes but don’t fall. I wait for guilt, for horror, for regret—but all I feel is a terrible, exhausted relief.
I continue up the stairs, each step lighter than the last. Above me, sunlight spills through the door at the top of the staircase, warm and golden. Onyx waits there, and the beginning of whatever comes next. Whatever I choose to make of this second chance at life.
Behind me, Raffaele’s footsteps start up the stairs, steady and unhurried. Following me as he always will. The man who collected me. The man who saved me. The man who just killed for me with no hesitation and no regret.
My husband. My protector. My choice.