Chapter 15 Stefan
I COULDN'T STOP jumping at shadows.
We'd been back at Inferno for three days and I still flinched at unexpected sounds. Footsteps in the hallway made my heart race. Strangers in the club made my palms sweat. Every unfamiliar face could be a threat. Every delivery person could be an assassin.
I knew it was irrational. The building had more security than ever. Guards at every entrance. Cameras everywhere. Matteo had briefed the entire staff about potential threats and what to watch for.
But knowing I was safe didn't stop the adrenaline spike every time someone walked too close.
Matteo noticed. Of course he noticed.
"You're on edge," he said one morning, finding me staring out the window of his apartment with my coffee going cold in my hands.
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You barely slept last night.
You've been checking the locks obsessively.
You nearly had a panic attack when someone knocked on the door yesterday.
" He moved behind me. Put his hands on my shoulders.
"Stefan, this is normal. You were threatened.
Your routine was surveilled. You have every right to be hypervigilant right now. "
"I hate it." My voice came out tight. "I hate feeling scared. Hate looking over my shoulder constantly. Hate that they got in my head like this."
"It'll get better. With time. With distance from the threats." He kissed my temple. "But you don't have to pretend you're fine when you're not."
I leaned back against him. Let myself take comfort in his solid presence.
"What if it doesn't get better?" I asked quietly. "What if I'm just... like this now? Constantly scared?"
"Then we deal with it. Together. But Stefan—it will get better. I promise."
I wanted to believe him.
***
My phone rang that afternoon while I was working on the quarterly financial reports.
Unknown number. I almost didn't answer. But something made me pick up.
"Hello?"
"Stefan." The voice made my chest tighten. "It's your mother."
"Mom." The word felt strange in my mouth.
"Don't hang up. Please." Her voice was shaking. "I need to talk to you."
I should hang up. Should block this number like I'd blocked Antonio's. Should maintain the boundaries I'd set.
But I couldn't make myself do it.
"I'm listening," I said.
"I heard about the threats. About what's been happening." She took a breath. "Stefan, you need to come home. It's not safe where you are."
"It's not safe anywhere right now."
"It's safer here. With your family. Where we can protect you."
The irony was almost funny. "Giuseppe sent me on a mission expecting me to fail. Possibly expecting me to die. That's not protection, Mom. That's elimination."
"He didn't—Stefan, your father made a mistake. But he's still your father. He still cares about you."
"Does he? Because I've spent twenty-three years waiting for evidence of that and I'm still looking."
She was quiet for a moment. "I know he's been hard on you. I know he hasn't valued you the way he should. But Stefan—he's your father. You can't just walk away from family."
"Why not? He walked away from me first. Sent me into enemy territory wearing a wire and expecting me to fail. Used me as a pawn in whatever game he's playing with the FBI." My hand tightened on the phone. "I don't owe him anything, Mom. Not loyalty. Not obedience. Nothing."
"You owe him respect—"
"I owe him nothing." My voice was firm. "And honestly?
I don't owe you anything either. You stood by for twenty-three years and watched him treat me like decoration.
Watched him diminish me. Watched him sell me at auctions.
You never once stood up for me. Never once told him to treat me better.
So no, Mom. I don't owe you or him or anyone in that family a damn thing. "
I heard her crying softly. The sound made guilt twist in my chest.
"I couldn't stand up to him," she said quietly. "You don't know what he's like. What he'd do if I defied him."
"I know exactly what he's like. I lived with him for twenty-three years."
"Then come home. Please. I can't—" Her voice broke. "I can't lose you, Stefan. You're my son. My baby. And I've already lost so much."
The grief in her voice destroyed me.
Because some part of me—the part that was still that child desperate for his mother's love—wanted to give in. Wanted to say yes. Wanted to go home and fix this and make her stop crying.
But I couldn't. Not without destroying myself in the process.
"I'm sorry, Mom." My voice was thick. "I'm sorry you married a man who treats his family like assets. I'm sorry you couldn't protect me from him. I'm sorry I can't come home and make this better for you. But I can't sacrifice myself to make your life easier. Not anymore."
"Stefan, please—"
"I love you." The words hurt to say. "I do love you.
But I can't be part of that family anymore.
I can't live in that house. Can't follow Giuseppe's orders.
Can't be the pretty son who smiles at functions and pretends everything's fine.
" I took a breath. "I found something better.
Someone who actually values me. A place where I matter for my mind instead of my appearance.
And I'm not giving that up. Not for you. Not for anyone."
"You're choosing them over your family?"
"I'm choosing myself over the people who never chose me." The distinction felt important. "This isn't about the Vitales versus the Romanos. This is about me finally putting myself first after twenty-three years of being last."
She was crying harder now. "I don't want to lose you."
"Then you should have fought for me when I was home. Should have stood up to Giuseppe. Should have treated me like I mattered instead of just another thing he controlled." My chest felt tight. "I'm sorry, Mom. I really am. But I can't come back. Not for you. Not for him. Not for anyone."
"Stefan—"
"I have to go. I'm sorry."
I hung up before she could say anything else.
Sat there staring at my phone while guilt and grief warred in my chest.
That was my mother. The woman who'd given birth to me. Raised me. Been there for scraped knees and bad dreams and all the small moments that made up childhood.
And I'd just cut her out of my life.
The door opened. Matteo stood there, concern clear on his face.
"I heard raised voices. Are you okay?"
"My mother called." My voice sounded distant. Hollow. "She wanted me to come home. I said no. She cried. I hung up." I looked at him. "I just cut off my mother, Matteo. What kind of person does that?"
He crossed to me immediately. Pulled me into his arms. "The kind of person who's choosing survival over guilt. Who's protecting himself even when it hurts."
"She was crying. She said she couldn't lose me. And I just—" My voice cracked. "I just told her no and hung up."
"Did she stand up for you? When Giuseppe was treating you like property?"
"No. She said she couldn't. That I don't know what he's like."
"Then she made her choice. She chose Giuseppe over you. Chose her own safety over protecting her son." Matteo held me tighter. "You're not the villain here, Stefan. You're just refusing to set yourself on fire to keep other people warm."
"It doesn't feel like that. It feels like I'm abandoning her."
"She abandoned you first. Every time she stood by while Giuseppe diminished you.
Every time she watched him sell you at auctions and said nothing.
Every time she chose compliance over protecting you.
" His voice was gentle but firm. "You don't owe her your misery.
You don't owe her your safety. You don't owe her anything except the truth—which you gave her. "
I pressed my face against his chest. "Why does doing the right thing hurt so much?"
"Because it's your mother. Because some part of you will always be that kid who wanted her love and protection. Because even when people fail us, we still grieve the relationship we wished we'd had." He pulled back to look at me. "But Stefan—are you regretting this? Do you want to go back?"
"No." The answer was immediate. Certain. "I don't want to go back. I don't want to be part of that family. I just—I wish it didn't have to be this way. I wish my mother was the kind of person who'd fight for me instead of asking me to sacrifice myself for her peace of mind."
"I know. And I'm sorry she isn't. You deserved better than the family you got."
"I found better." I looked at him. "I found you. And Sandro and Luca and Emilio. And even Elio's grudging respect. I found a place where I matter. Where my skills are valued. Where I'm more than just decorative."
"You are. You're essential. To the Vitales. To me." He cupped my face. "But Stefan—I'm worried about you."
"Why?"
"Because you're cutting off everyone from your old life. Your brothers. Your father. Now your mother. That's a lot of loss. A lot of bridges burned. And I'm worried that one day you'll wake up and resent me for being the reason you're isolated."
"You're not the reason. Giuseppe is. The family is. They're the ones who made me choose between them and my own wellbeing." I held his gaze. "I'm choosing wellbeing. I'm choosing you. And I don't resent you for that. I'm grateful."
"You say that now—"
"I mean it now. And I'll mean it tomorrow. And the day after." I kissed him. "Stop trying to protect me from my own choices, Matteo. I'm making them with full awareness of what I'm losing. And I'm still choosing this. Choosing you. Choosing us."
He searched my face. Looking for doubt. For regret. For any sign I was lying to myself or him.
"Okay," he said finally. "But Stefan—if you change your mind, if you need to reach out to your mother or rebuild some of those bridges, I'll support that. You don't have to stay isolated to prove your loyalty to me."