Chapter Thirty-One
Sabrina
After the failed ambush on the Spanish warehouse, word spread quickly through the underground networks that Sergei Volkov had not taken the loss well. In their world, failure wasn't unusual. What mattered was how someone responded to it.
Sergei's response lacked the restraint expected of someone in his position.
Reports surfaced of him tearing through meetings, overturning tables and shouting accusations at anyone within reach.
He had turned a tactical failure into a conspiracy, demanding answers from people who had none to give.
His outburst weakened his standing far more than the loss itself.
Men like Ivan Volkov would never have reacted that way.
If Ivan had lost men in an ambush, there would have been no public outbursts, no visible anger and no impulsive accusations.
He would have disappeared into silence long enough to dissect every detail of the failure.
When he returned, it wouldn't be with words, but with precision.
Ivan didn't waste emotion.
He weaponised patience.
Sergei's outrage eventually faded into background noise.
Other families stopped engaging with his complaints, treating them as the predictable reaction of a man trying to save face rather than a genuine threat.
His influence hadn't disappeared entirely, but it had become unstable, reactive and far easier to anticipate.
Today, however, none of that mattered.
Today was about family.
I stood beside Dario as we walked hand in hand through the estate. We were on our way to meet the wider Moretti family – the aunts, uncles and cousins I hadn't properly gotten to know yet.
Dario moved slightly ahead, practically buzzing with excitement. More family meant more people to annoy and more chaos to create. He seemed to thrive on both.
When Dario pushed open the living-room door, several heads turned towards us.
I'd already met Kayden, nineteen, and Xander and Nico, both eighteen, so seeing them again didn't feel particularly strange. They were familiar faces by now, which made the gathering less intimidating than it might have otherwise been.
Zio Marco noticed us first. He was seated on one of the sofas with Zia Tessa beside him. His face lit up as soon as he saw me, and he pushed himself to his feet.
“Sabrina,” he said warmly. “You look so different from when I first saw you when you were born.”
Before I could respond, another voice came from the opposite sofa.
“Because she isn't a baby, you big baby.”
Zio Giovanni stood beside Zia Gianna, shaking his head at his brother.
Marco scoffed. “You don't have to ruin the moment.”
Giovanni ignored him and turned towards me.
“You look so much like Carlo and your mum,” he said, his voice softer now.
His arms lifted slightly, clearly intending to pull me into a hug, but I took a step backwards before he could close the distance.
It wasn't meant as an insult. It was simply a boundary I wasn't ready to cross.
To Giovanni's credit, he didn't push. His arms lowered immediately, and he gave me a small nod.
“I'm Zio Giovanni,” he said. “Though I'm pretty sure you've heard our names enough times by now.”
“Zio Marco,” Marco added with a grin. “The better-looking brother.”
Giovanni rolled his eyes. “Don't listen to him.”
“You wound me.”
“You'll survive.”
Marco gestured towards Tessa. “This is Zia Tessa.”
Tessa offered me a gentle smile, while Giovanni introduced Gianna.
Both women greeted me warmly, and neither tried to force the closeness I wasn't ready for. Most people either took my reluctance personally or tried to push past it. The Morettis simply seemed content to let me come to them in my own time.
Everyone's attention soon shifted towards Dario.
Marco smiled. “We've heard so much about you.”
Dario straightened immediately, his grin sharp and unashamed.
“Better have been good things,” he replied without missing a beat.
A few of the adults laughed, and I stayed slightly behind him, watching as he effortlessly took over the room whenever he realised he had an audience.
A small figure soon caught my attention as he crawled across the floor towards me.
Valentino.
At nine months old, he was completely untouched by the expectations that seemed to follow everyone else in the family.
I crouched down and held my arms slightly open as he approached. He let out a small giggle before crawling faster.
The sight pulled up a memory before I could stop it.
Dario, smaller and refusing to crawl properly, as though the rules everyone else followed simply didn't apply to him. I remembered calling Sean in a panic, convinced something was wrong, only for him to calmly explain that children developed at their own pace.
He had been right.
He usually was.
The memory settled differently this time, softer around the edges. I wiped away the tear that slipped down my cheek before Valentino reached me.
I let myself stay there with him for a moment, grounding myself in the present before anything else could pull me backwards.
***
The afternoon passed more quickly than I expected.
The family eventually separated into smaller groups. Dad, Zio Marco, Zio Giovanni, Dante, Enzo and Salvatore disappeared into Dad's office under the pretence of discussing business. The women remained in the living room, while everyone else gradually made their way outside.
I stayed in the kitchen with Valentino balanced on my lap, attempting to feed him while preventing him from wearing more food than he actually consumed.
It wasn't going particularly well.
Half the food reached his mouth. The rest ended up on me, the table or the floor. Somehow, he even managed to get applesauce into his hair. I cleaned it off, only for him to do it again thirty seconds later.
Across from us, Dario watched the entire process with narrowed eyes, studying Valentino as if he were a particularly fascinating science experiment.
“What is he saying?” he asked when Valentino babbled happily.
“I don't know.”
Dario frowned. “You speak weird.”
I stared at him. “You think I speak baby?”
“You speak six languages.”
“None of them are baby.”
He considered that seriously before looking back at Valentino.
“I think he's plotting something.”
Before I could answer, Dario's attention shifted towards the open back door and the voices drifting in from the garden.
“Dario.”
He looked back innocently. “What?”
“Don't cause problems.”
His smile widened.
A few seconds later, he disappeared outside.
I stared at the open door before looking down at Valentino.
“You know he's going to cause problems.”
Valentino responded by smacking his hand into the bowl of food.
I took that as agreement.
Curiosity eventually got the better of me. I lifted Valentino onto my hip and carried him to the kitchen window overlooking the garden. He immediately pressed both hands against the glass and let out an excited babble.
“Glad you're enjoying this.”
Through the glass, I could see Matteo, Luca, Leonardo, Nico, Xander and Luis spread across the garden furniture.
Then Dario walked over.
The moment he approached, whatever the boys had been smoking suddenly disappeared from sight. Matteo crushed his cigarette beneath his shoe, Luca quickly hid his, and Nico nearly choked trying to get rid of his fast enough.
Dario noticed every single one of them.
“What are you smoking?”
A brief silence followed.
“Nothing,” Matteo answered.
“You're literally smoking something.”
“Not anymore.”
“I saw it.”
“You saw nothing.”
“You're gaslighting me.”
I nearly dropped Valentino's spoon.
The fact that a four-year-old knew the word gaslighting was deeply concerning.
“Where did you even learn that?” Luis asked.
“Asher.”
Leonardo groaned. “Of course it was him.”
Dario ignored him completely.
“Can I have one?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you're four.”
Dario frowned, clearly offended.
“That’s age discri...”
He stopped abruptly, his eyebrows pulling together as he searched for the rest of the word.
A few seconds passed.
“...discri...”
Nico sighed. “Discrimination.”
Dario immediately pointed at him.
“That.”
A few of them laughed.
“You couldn't even say it,” Nico said.
“I knew it.”
“Clearly.”
“I did.”
“Then why did you stop halfway through?”
Dario crossed his arms.
“I was building suspense.”
Several groans followed.
“Go back inside, Dario,” Leonardo said, rubbing a hand over his face.
“No.”
“Dario.”
“No.”
A beat passed before Dario spoke again, sounding far too pleased with himself.
“If you don't give me one, I'll tell Mum you broke her favourite vase.”
The entire garden fell silent.
I blinked from my spot at the kitchen window.
Everyone knew who had broken Mum's favourite vase.
Leonardo stared at him. “It wasn't me.”
“You broke it.”
“No, I didn't.”
“I watched you do it.”
Dario gasped dramatically.
“Lies.”
“Dario.”
“It could have been anyone.”
“You literally dropped a football through it.”
“Allegedly.”
A few laughs escaped from the others.
Leonardo looked moments away from giving up on life entirely.
“Who do you think Mum will believe?” Dario asked sweetly. “You or me?”
Everyone knew the answer.
Dario knew exactly how much power came with being the youngest Moretti, and he used it shamelessly.
Matteo started laughing, followed by Luca, and soon everyone was laughing except Leonardo, who looked personally betrayed by the entire situation.
Valentino giggled despite having absolutely no idea what was happening.
I sighed and offered him another spoonful of food.
Somewhere outside, Leonardo was still trying to defend himself, and somehow, despite being only four years old, Dario was winning.