Chapter 43 #2
I hit the button for the lift with more force than necessary. My reflection in the metal doors looks unhinged—eyes too bright, jaw clenched so tight it’s a wonder I haven’t cracked my teeth. The doors slide open, and I step inside, punching the button for the penthouse.
The lift rises fast, but not fast enough. Every second is a noose.
Jonathan’s living room greets me with its usual polished calm, the kind of quiet that usually demands respect. Tonight it barely registers. I’m moving before I’m thinking, heading straight for the double doors that lead to his office.
I don’t knock.
Jonathan is standing dead centre of the room, jacket shrugged off, tie loosened, sleeves pushed to his elbows like he’s been carrying the world on his back all day and only now realises the weight isn’t done with him.
He looks up the moment I step inside, eyebrows drawing together as though he recognises something in my face that he can’t quite place.
“Matt, what are you doing in town?” he asks slowly, a note of dread threading through his words.
“She’s missing.” The words rip straight out of my chest, raw and breathless, landing between us with a violence I can’t soften.
Jonathan’s expression fractures in confusion. “Who?”
“Lily,” I manage, though her name almost fractures on my tongue.
And there it is, the blankness that bleeds into bewilderment.
He searches my face for context, for reason, for any explanation that ties me to a girl he exiled a year ago in this very penthouse.
An exile I bore witness to, without so much as a grunt.
Fuck, I could kill past me for being such a fool.
“Lily?” Jonathan’s voice rises slightly, sharp with accusation. “As in Davis?”
My silence is answer enough. He stares at me, incredulous.
“Why the hell would you have anything to do with her? You haven’t seen that girl since… since everything with Jen came out. What the fuck have you been doing?”
I swallow hard, chest tightening, because saying this out loud—here, now—is something I never dared hope I’d get the chance to. It hurts in ways I can’t name, but there’s no room left for secrets. Not anymore.
“I love her.” My voice cracks, hoarse from holding it in too long. “I’ve always loved her. And I’m done pretending otherwise. Salvatore’s betrayal aside—I was never going to marry Gianna. How could I, when Lily holds my heart in her fist?”
Jonathan freezes. The words hang in the air like smoke, thick and acrid. His eyes darken, narrowing with disbelief, then flash with something sharper—anger, confusion, a mixture that makes my gut tighten.
“You…” His voice trembles, almost a growl. “You’ve been lying to us? All this time?”
I meet his gaze, refusing to flinch. “I haven’t lied to you about what matters. I’ve been keeping her safe—”
“Safe?” His laugh is short, bitter, filled with disbelief. “Do you even know what you’re saying? The girl was sent away, Matt! Exiled! And all this time, you’ve been sneaking around behind everyone’s back, hiding—”
“Because I love her!” The words explode out of me, leaving me raw and shaking.
“I’ve loved her for years, and I will not just watch her vanish like she’s disposable.
I don’t give a damn about Salvatore’s plans or the politics you think should matter.
She’s the one thing I won’t lose. She’s the only thing that matters. ”
His jaw tightens, and I can see the calculation start behind his eyes—how this will hit the inner circle, the web of loyalties and power, the implications of my actions.
His anger is cold now, slicing through the room, but beneath it, I think I see something else—awe, recognition, and a hint of fear.
“You’ve put all of us in the firing line,” he says at last, each word measured, controlled and sharp enough to draw blood.
He shakes his head once, slow and disbelieving.
“Every one of us. Do you even understand what you’ve done, Matt?
You went behind your own family’s back for a girl who was meant to be your stepsister.
A girl most of our world sees as a liability. A traitor.”
His accusation lands hard, but I don’t flinch.
“Yes,” I bite out, the word forced past clenched teeth. “I know exactly what I’ve done. And I’d do it again.”
I step forward, closing the distance between us.
“Because she is the only thing that’s ever mattered.
Not this organisation, not Gianna, not whatever legacy Da thinks he can force me into protecting.
” My jaw tightens. “And you know as well as I do, she is not and never has been a traitor. We already have enough evidence to prove those emails were riddled with code. The next person who calls her that will meet the other side of my fist. Family or otherwise.”
My chest rises, shuddering once but my resolve doesn’t falter.
“We can tear each other apart later,” I say, quieter now, deadlier for it. “You can punish me, strip me of whatever you think I deserve after she’s safe. But right now? Lily is out there alone. And every second we waste arguing is another second we’re not getting her back.”
Jonathan’s eyes flare. I see the battle waging behind them, every instinct he’s ever honed—father, leader and strategic—crashing headlong into the truth of my words.
His hands clench into fists at his sides, knuckles whitening.
Jonathan, the leader against Jonathan, the man who would have done the exact same thing for Helen.
And, in that moment, I see a shift. He finally knows that nothing he can say or do will change my mind.
“All right,” he says at last, voice tight, controlled but every syllable weighted like a blade. “Your Da is going to lose his bloody mind.”
“Let him,” I whisper, because I can’t bring myself to care. “He can explode later. I don’t have time to explain the last four years, I need your help now. Before it’s too late.”
Before he can speak, footsteps pad softly from the living room, and Helen appears in the doorway, curly hair mussed from sleep, tying her satin robe at the waist. She blinks against the light, gaze falling first on Jonathan, then on me, confusion knitting her brow.
“What is it?” she asks, voice thick and rough, still half-asleep. “What’s happened?”
Jonathan steps closer to her without thinking, like distance itself is a risk he refuses to take. Sometimes it feels like they’re still trying to make up for lost time, as if the fear of losing each other is always nipping at their heels.
“There’s been some… news.”
Helen straightens, alert now despite the remnants of sleep clinging to her.
“What kind of news?” she presses, her eyes moving between us.
“It’s Lily,” I choke out, my gaze catching hers and watching the implications hit her like a blow—a blow I’m all too familiar with, one that has my throat burning as I continue. “She’s—she’s gone. Taken.”
Helen gasps, the sound quiet but devastating. Helen was always adamant, alongside Cora, that Lily should never have been cast out, that at the very least she should have guards on her.
“Lily…?” she repeats softly, as if saying the name might make it make sense. “I—are you sure?”
I nod once. “I’ve been in contact with her, she hasn’t checked in. Something’s wrong.”
“Oh God,” she whispers. Her voice softens, breaking for half a heartbeat as understanding hits, the kind only Helen could have.
The trauma she endured may well be Lily’s if we don’t act fast enough.
It erases any traces of sleep from her, eyes darkening with dread and determination in equal measure.
“All right,” she says, voice steadying, hardening into something unbreakable. “What do you need?”
Jonathan moves before I can take another breath. He pulls his phone from his pocket, voice low and lethal as he issues orders. “I need everyone at the penthouse. Now. No questions. Tell Liam to bring Owen and Cora, too.”
He ends the call without waiting for a reply.
The weight in the room shifts, thick and tense, like the calm before a storm. Even standing here, I can feel it—the anticipation, the unspoken knowledge that when the others arrive, there’s going to be an explosion.
Helen stays close, arms folded tight across her chest, her eyes flicking from Jonathan to me, worry etched into every line of her face.
Within minutes, the lift bursts open. Declan steps in first, all taut muscle and suspicion, scanning the room as though expecting bodies.
Bren follows, expression tight as he keeps me pinned under his gaze, one eyebrow cocked in question.
Jack strides in behind them, jaw set like he’s ready to start swinging.
Da storms into the room next, coat half-on, shirt untucked, fury simmering just beneath the surface. In the time since I’ve last seen him, he’s let his beard grow out, and it just adds to his frazzled appearance. His gaze sweeps the space, taking stock, landing on me last.
“What the hell is going on?” he snaps. “Johnny, why’ve you called the whole bloody inner circle out of bed? Has someone died? What’s Matt doing home?”
Jonathan doesn’t waste a second. “Lily Davis is missing.”
His words hits the room like a physical blow.
Bren mutters something sharp under his breath, running a hand through his short, cropped hair.
Declan stiffens. Jack’s dark eyebrows shoot up.
Seamus freezes in the doorway, stopping the lift doors from closing.
But my Da, he just looks confused. Truly, deeply confused.
Like he never imagined he’d hear her name again.
“Why,” he says slowly, dangerously, “are we involved in anything to do with her?”
His gaze cuts to me. Hard. Searching. And something in my stomach twists because I know what’s coming, but there’s no stopping it.
“Matt?” he pushes. “Why aren't you in Italy? Why would her—”
Jonathan tries to intercept, voice calm but firm. “Ciaran, there’s something we need to explain before—”
But I speak first.
“I’ve been seeing her.”