Chapter 45
Severance
THE MAESTRO | Past
Istare down at the glossy, black-and-white thermal paper clutched in my fist.
It’s a boy.
I swallow past the dry lump of bile in my throat. The irony of this fucking life.
I am a man who deals in finalities, in graves, in lines crossed that can never be uncrossed.
My entire existence has been a calculated sequence of extraction and survival.
Yet here, a new life has anchored itself into the blood-soaked soil of my world.
A son. A Vitale heir born to the man who wants to end the tale of this bloodline.
I carefully slip the ultrasound photo into the inner breast pocket of my suit jacket, right over my heart, before walking over to the window.
I’ve made arrangements back at the main house in the city, shifting our entire life here. It wasn’t my first choice, but Marcus’s warning stayed with me.
Keep her around people. Let her witness the world.
But the people in this house are the worst kind of humans.
My Mother is hollowed out, and my Father is a bedridden old tyrant. The only saving grace is Elena, who came with us from Cliffside.
And then there is Hannah.
I still don’t know what her game is, but I’ve come to realize something over the last forty-eight hours: she is playing something massive. When I confronted her with the truth, she didn’t even blink. She didn’t flinch when she saw Selene lying limp, pale, and entirely broken in my arms.
There was no maternal horror.
Instead of wrapping my hands around her throat right then and there, like the polite man I am, I let her leave.
I didn’t let her go far, though. I gave her one of my private penthouses downtown because I wanted to keep a direct eye on her, and she obliged.
She knew exactly what she was doing. I wouldn’t let her stay under the same roof where my Father still lives, not with my wife in this condition.
I still don’t know how she managed to get those pills smuggled into my perimeter.
There are too many loose threads in my security.
On top of the rot, just an hour ago, Massimo called to tell me they have Vane’s location.
The bastard is hiding out in Paris, pulling strings from across the continent, while his son is still staying here in the city like a vulture waiting for a carcass.
I don’t know what the boy is doing on my turf yet.
That’s for me to worry about another time.
Right now, it’s only Selene.
I turn back from the window, my eyes settling on her. She’s sitting beside the vanity, looking calmer than she did two days ago. The violent tremors have left her limbs, and the hollow look in her eyes has softened into a distant glaze.
She isn’t talking to me.
Every time I step into the room, she pulls herself inward. I still remember the venom she screamed at me in the clinic.
I let her have her time. I don’t force her to speak, nor do I crowd her space. I simply exist in the room with her, give her medicine, and make sure she eats her meals regularly.
I still haven’t told her that she is pregnant.
I look at the slight curve of her spine, the fragile grace of her neck.
The secret weighs heavy on my tongue. I don’t know the consequences of giving her that news right now.
If her mind is still recovering from the nightmares, will a child bring her back to reality, or will it push her right back over the edge?
Will she see our son as a blessing, or as another chain locking her to the monster she thinks I am?
“Elena brought up some tea,” I say softly. “It’s on the table if you want it.”
My wife keeps staring at her reflection in the mirror, looking right through her own eyes.
I close my eyes for a brief second as the storm brewing outside the window pulls at me.
I will find every single person who put that look in her eyes.
I will find her Mother’s suppliers, I will find Vane, and I will tear them apart piece by piece.
But looking at my wife, the hardest battle isn’t going to be fought with a gun.
It’s going to be coaxing her back from the dark room her Mother built inside her head.