Chapter Forty-One #2
Enzo had been unusually quiet since we'd entered the office. His brow remained furrowed as he stared at the letter, his expression growing more thoughtful with every passing second before his eyes finally lifted to meet mine.
“At the gala,” he said carefully, “one of the Russian guards said Sergei wanted what was owed to the Volkovs.”
He held my gaze.
“Is that what this is about?”
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Every pair of eyes settled on me.
I closed my eyes and drew in a slow, measured breath, trying to steady the storm inside me.
There was no point hiding the truth anymore. Not after everything that had happened.
When I looked up again, Dad was watching me with quiet concern. Matteo stood with his arms folded across his chest, every muscle in his body rigid, while Carlo, Dante, Enzo, Luca and Leonardo waited in complete silence.
“Yeah,” I admitted softly.
The single word seemed to echo through the office.
Dad's expression tightened.
“What does he mean?”
My gaze dropped to my hands resting in my lap. I watched my fingers twist together, buying myself one last moment before dragging the memories back to the surface.
“When Dario was born,” I began quietly, “Ivan Volkov approached Jacqueline and Joseph with a deal.”
Nobody moved.
“He promised to keep supplying them with drugs.”
I swallowed.
“In return, all they had to do was give him Dario.”
Silence swept through the room.
For a heartbeat, nobody reacted. It was as though the words themselves refused to make sense.
Carlo frowned, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief.
“What?”
“They agreed,” I said, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat. “Once Dario was old enough, Ivan would take him to Russia, and in return, Jackeline and Joseph would never have to worry about paying for another fix.”
“No.” Matteo shook his head before I'd even finished speaking. “No, they wouldn't.”
“They did.”
I forced myself to hold his gaze.
“They signed him away before he was old enough to understand what was happening.”
Dad looked physically ill.
Around the room, disbelief settled over every face.
“They were his parents,” Dad said quietly, the disbelief in his voice somehow harder to bear than anger.
A bitter smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
“They were the people who brought him into the world.”
I lifted my eyes to his.
“They were never his parents. They chose drugs over him every single time they were given the choice.”
I swallowed against the ache building in my throat.
“When Ivan offered them an endless supply in exchange for Dario... they didn't even hesitate.”
My voice faltered.
“To them, he was never their son.”
I looked down at my hands.
“He was something they could trade.”
Nobody spoke.
Nobody could.
Eventually, Enzo broke the silence.
“What did Ivan want with him?”
The question lingered in the air, and I realised this was the moment everything changed.
Until now, Diabola had been little more than a name whispered by frightened men. A ghost. A myth.
None of them understood what that name truly meant.
A chill crept down my spine as memories I'd spent years burying clawed their way back to the surface.
“He was taking him to replace me.”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
The truth settled over the room, heavy and inescapable.
Carlo had gone pale. Dante sat frozen, while Enzo stared at the floor in stunned silence.
Leonardo never looked away from me.
There was no fear in his eyes.
Only heartbreak.
Dad was the first to find his voice.
“What do you mean... replace you?”
The question barely sounded like him.
I drew in a slow breath, but it did nothing to calm the storm building inside my chest.
“Ivan kidnapped children because he wanted weapons,” I said quietly.
Nobody interrupted.
“He searched for children young enough to break, young enough to mould into whatever he wanted them to become. Once they were taken, they lost their names, their families... everything that made them who they were.”
I paused, forcing myself to keep going.
“They weren't taught to read first or how to tell right from wrong. They were taught how to survive pain, how to obey without hesitation, and how to kill before they were old enough to understand what death really meant.”
A tremor worked through my hands. I curled them into my palms before anyone noticed.
“Ivan wasn't planning to adopt Dario.”
My throat tightened around the words.
“He was planning to erase him.”
No one moved.
“He would've stripped away every piece of the little boy we know – his laugh, his kindness, even the way he insists dinosaurs are real.”
A sad smile brushed my lips before disappearing.
“There would've only been another Diabola.”
The words stole the air from the room.
No one spoke.
But it was Leonardo who broke me.
His eyes searched mine desperately, still looking for another explanation, another truth that could undo everything I'd just told them. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked beneath the weight of his understanding.
“So...”
He swallowed.
“You really are Diabola.”
There wasn't an ounce of accusation in his voice.
Only grief.
For the first time since we'd walked into the office, I couldn't hold his gaze. I looked down at my hands.
“Yeah.”
My voice was barely a whisper.
“I am.”
Leonardo let out a shaky breath, his eyes filling as though he were mourning every year we'd lost.
Every birthday.
Every Christmas.
Every nightmare he'd never been there to chase away.
“Oh, Sabrina...”
He pushed himself slowly to his feet.
“I'm so sorry.”
Before anyone could stop him, he turned and quietly left the office, the soft click of the closing door echoing through the silence he'd left behind.
Dad watched the door for a long moment before looking back at me.
His eyes glistened with tears.
“What happened to you?”
His voice broke.
“What did they do to my little girl?”