Chapter Thirty-Six
Lily
I don’t leave the penthouse for a week. The sky turns from silver to black and back again beyond the glass walls, and I barely notice. Most days, I sit by the window wrapped in one of Damiano’s sweaters, staring out like I’m waiting for something to return to me. My voice. My spark. Myself.
I pretend that everything is fine, but I am unraveling thread by thread, and I am afraid that someday there will be nothing left of me.
Damiano watches from the shadows, always nearby.
He never tells me to talk, never asks me to smile.
When I wake gasping in the night, fists clenched and heart hammering in my chest, he holds me until I fall asleep again, skin pressed to his heartbeat like an anchor.
Then one day, he says, ‘I want to bring someone in to talk with you. A therapist, someone we trust. You don’t have to say yes right away. Just think about it.’ And I say yes. Because I am tired of feeling like I am not inside my own skin.
The therapist’s name is Dr. Silvia Stone.
She is older, sharp-eyed, with salt-and-pepper curls and the voice of a lifetime smoker.
She comes to the condo twice a week, sets up in the office, and doesn’t ask me to spill my soul on the floor.
Instead, she listens. She watches the way I flinch at loud noises.
The way I can’t sit with my back to the door.
The way I twist the hem of my shirt like I’m holding myself together with my bare hands.
On the third session, I sit curled up on the couch, fingers picking at the corner of a pillow. I don’t speak for a while. Dr. Stone doesn’t press. Finally, I say, “How am I supposed to live with this?”
She looks up from her notes. “With what?”
I meet her gaze. “Being part of his world now.”
She nods slowly, inviting me to continue.
“I mean…the mafia,” I clarify, the word tasting bitter. “That’s what it is. There’s no sugar-coating it. My mom used to say it only brought death and heartbreak. And she was right.”
She waits, quiet and open.
“I saw what Damiano did to Gian,” I murmur.
“It wasn’t justice. It was personal. He wanted him gone, and he made it happen.
He…probably did the same with the rest of his people.
And I’m still here, with him. And worse, I am not sad or horrified over what he did.
What kind of person does it make me?” I hesitate, voice thinning. “Doesn’t that make me like him?”
Dr. Stone doesn’t rush in to fill the silence. She merely tilts her head. “Do you feel like him?”
“No,” I say quickly. Too quickly. Then I sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just fooling myself.”
She leans forward a bit. “You saw him act violently. But have you thought about why?”
I shake my head. “I try not to. It’s easier that way.”
“But you’re asking the question now.”
I blink at her. My throat feels tight. “He didn’t hesitate,” I whisper. “When he found me. He tore that place apart. Gian’s operation, the men involved…they’re all gone. Chiara, Laura, Giulia, Issy, the women I was with. Some of them are already home. The rest are safe at least.”
There is a pause.
“I wouldn’t be here without him,” I admit, softer now. “But that doesn’t erase the darkness.”
“No,” Dr. Stone agrees. “It doesn’t.”
I look down at my hands, suddenly unsure. “So what does that make him? A hero? A monster?” I glance up, expecting her to answer, but she gives me a knowing look.
“I guess…” I pause, swallowing the truth that’s been circling me for days. “Maybe he’s still a monster. But he’s my monster. And maybe that’s worse.”
Dr. Stone’s expression doesn’t change.
“He used his darkness to destroy mine, and I gladly let him,” I whisper, voice trembling. “And that’s what I can’t untangle. I’m afraid of what that says about me.”
She lets the silence settle again, then says gently, “It says you survived. And maybe now you’re figuring out what kind of life you want to live with the pieces that are left.”
I don’t respond, although the thought stirs something in me. But still, there is a knot I can’t untangle.
“Does it ever bother you?” I ask. “Working for people like him. Knowing what they are part of? What they are capable of?”
She pauses, her expression not defensive, only thoughtful. Then she leans back in her chair. “You’re a veterinarian, right?” I nod. “So, tell me, do you treat all animals the same? Even the ones with bad reputations? Dogs known for aggression. Cats who bite. Wild animals that can’t be trusted.”
I nod again, slower this time. “Yes…I do. I mean, they still deserve care. I try to understand why they act the way they do.”
She raises a brow. “Exactly. You don’t stop being a healer because the patient has claws. I don’t stop being a therapist because someone carries a gun. As long as I can help, I’m doing my job. I’m doing good. That’s what matters to me.”
Something clicks. It’s like exhaling after holding my breath for weeks.
I don’t have to lose myself to be with Damiano.
I don’t have to become cruel or numb or complicit.
I just have to hold onto the part of me that wants to do good, and use his power to amplify it.
I can help, even in this world. Especially in this world.
“I think I get it,” I whisper.
Dr. Stone smiles again, softer this time. “You don’t have to become like him, Lily. You simply have to love him with your eyes open. And decide who you want to be beside him, if you want to be beside him.”
I nod, and for the first time since everything shattered, I feel like I am finally putting the pieces of myself back together.
Not to be who I was before, but to be someone stronger.
* * * *
There is one more loose thread I need to deal with.
I am sitting in a quiet café downtown, my hands curled around a warm mug of coffee that I’ve barely touched. My nerves are frayed, and every tick of the clock sounds louder than it should.
When Sophia walks in, the tension in my chest tightens. But then she sees me and her face lights up with that radiant, maternal warmth that’s so uniquely hers. I rise to greet her and she pulls me into a warm, familiar hug.
“Tesoro, thank you for the invitation, I was so anxious to see you. But mi figlio is worse than a pit bull, preventing anyone from coming near you.” She rolls her eyes dramatically.
I let out a breathy laugh, grateful for her levity.
We sit and order breakfast, but my stomach is too knotted to feel hungry.
Her expression softens as she watches me.
“How are you coping?” Her soft voice is laced with concern.
I shrug. “I am okay, I guess. I’m having therapy, and it is helping a lot.
I mean…” I falter. “I was only held for a night. The other women… They were there for days. I don’t even know how they’re holding themselves together.
Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve to be this shaken.
” My gaze drops to my coffee, and I tighten my fingers around the cup.
Sophia slides her hand across the table to take mine “Tesoro…” she says. “Trauma isn’t a competition. What you experienced was real. It was terrifying. And your pain is valid, no matter how long it lasted.” I give her a grateful, fragile smile, then draw in a breath, steeling myself.
“Sophia, there is something I need to confess.” Her brows lift slightly, curiosity flickering behind her calm expression. “I…like you a lot, this is why I can’t keep pretending. Damiano and I are not engaged,” I blurt out. I look at her, but her face is blank, giving nothing away.
“I… He asked me to pretend, probably to put your mind at ease. And I said yes. I didn’t know you then, and I didn’t think it would matter.
” I falter again. “But it does. Because I respect you, and I am so sorry. Please don’t be angry at him.
He meant well. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.
I am the one that shouldn’t have agreed to lie, no matter the intentions behind it.
” She’s still quiet, and the silence stretches too long.
My throat tightens with shame. I lower my gaze, heart sinking. “I am sorry,” I whisper. “Truly.”
I feel her squeeze my hand and look up. She is smiling at me. “Lily.” Her voice is soft and kind. “I see how he looks at you. Believe me, nothing about that is pretend.”
“But…we are not engaged. We never were.” Her smile turns mysterious and I can’t help but ramble on. “I…I don’t really know what I am to him. His mistress. He probably didn’t want you to think badly of him and…” I trail off.
“Do you really think Damiano is the kind of person who cares what people think of him?” She chuckles.
I frown. “No, but you are his mother, surely your opinion—”
“Child,” she cuts me off, amusement dancing in her voice. “The last time I tried to push him into meeting a woman, he all but forcefully shipped me back to Italy. I am his mother, but that is not keeping him from being his overbearing self.”
I have to laugh. “He can be infuriating at times.”
She laughs too, mirth in her eyes. A weight lifts from my shoulders. I don’t really know where I stand with Damiano, nor how he sees me. But I know I haven’t lost Sophia, and that matters more than I expected.
“Can I ask you a very personal question?” I ask shyly, fingers wrapped tightly around my cup.
Sophia gives a slight tilt of her head. “Of course.”
I hesitate. “How was it…to be with Damiano’s father, with the Don? To live that life?” Her smile fades, and something more introspective settles over her features. She leans back slightly, as if the weight of the memory is something she’s used to carrying.
“It was a life of shadows,” she begins. “But it was never loveless.” I blink, caught off guard.
I hadn’t expected her to speak so plainly, so truthfully.
“Damiano’s father, my husband, was a dangerous man, make no mistake.
But he was also a man of deep loyalty, and when he gave his heart, it was for life.
” Her gaze flickers to the window briefly before returning to me.
“Ours wasn’t an arranged marriage, though many assumed it was.
I chose him. And he gave me a seat beside him, not behind.
” Her voice is steady, but there’s a wistful strength beneath the words.
“He told me once that a king is only as powerful as the queen who guards his blind side. And that’s what I was to him.
His confidante, his anchor. He protected the family, and I protected the man. ”
I can’t help but stare, absorbing the unexpected tenderness in her tone.
“He wasn’t gentle with the world,” she continues, “but he was gentle with me. And that mattered.” She smiles, then shrugs lightly. “It wasn’t always easy. The silence, the secrets, the danger. But it was ours. And I never doubted that I was loved, or that I belonged.”
A lump rises in my throat. I want to ask her how she knew, how she trusted, how she accepted it all, but what comes out is something smaller, more fragile. “And you think…that’s something I could have?”
Sophia leans forward, her eyes kind but sharp.
“If that’s what you want, Lily, then yes.
Don’t ever let this world tell you what you can or can’t be.
If you want to stand at Damiano’s side, not in his shadow, you can.
I’ve seen how he watches you. He may not know it yet, but he’s already chosen you. ”
My heart clenches at her words, but the doubt creeps in anyway.
“But what if…” I swallow. “What if I’m just…convenient? Temporary? What if I’m not what he wants long term?”
Sophia’s smile turns knowing, a little sad. “Men like my son aren’t easy with feelings. Especially love. They don’t name it until it’s burning down the walls around them. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I nod slowly, my thoughts spinning.
“The real question, tesoro,” she adds, “is not whether he loves you. It’s whether you’re brave enough to claim your place beside him, before he even knows he built it for you.”
The words land like a promise and a challenge.
And something inside me, something quiet and hidden and waiting, shifts. Maybe I’m not ready to believe it just yet. But maybe…I want to be.