Chapter 18 Isabella
I wake to a warm body beside me.
For a moment, I'm disoriented. Then everything comes rushing back, last night, Lupo, the way he touched me, the way we fell asleep tangled together.
I turn my head and find him already awake, watching me.
"Hi," I whisper.
"Hi." His voice is rough with sleep, and it does things to me. "I was starting to think I dreamed this."
"Not a dream."
He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "How do you feel?"
"Really good." I shift closer, resting my head on his chest. His heart beats steady under my ear. "You?"
"Like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."
We lie there in comfortable silence, just breathing together. His hand traces lazy patterns on my back, and I let myself have this moment of perfect peace.
Then I hear it. Small footsteps padding down the hallway.
"Mama?"
I bolt upright. "Elena."
Lupo is already moving, grabbing his pants from the floor. I throw on my robe just as the doorknob tries to turn.
“Mama? The door is locked.”
I rush to the door and open it. Elena steps inside, clutching her rabbit. She stops short when she sees both of us.
"Lupo's here," she observes.
"Yes." I try to keep my voice calm. "He stayed over last night."
"In the house?"
"Yes, baby."
She processes this and then her face breaks into a huge smile. "Does that mean he's staying forever?"
Lupo and I exchange a look. Forever. Such a simple word. Such an impossible promise.
"We'll see," I say carefully. "But for now, yes, Lupo might stay in the house more."
"Yay!" She launches herself at the bed, jumping beside Lupo. "Can you make breakfast? You make better eggs than Mama."
"Hey," I protest, but I'm smiling. “I thought I made the best eggs.”
"It's true," Elena says matter-of-factly. "Mama burns them."
Lupo laughs, and the sound warms me from the inside. "Okay, sweetheart,” he says. “I'll make breakfast. But you have to help."
"I can crack eggs!" she squeals.
"Then you're hired."
He carries her out of the room, and I take a moment to just breathe. This is real. He's here, in my house, making breakfast with my daughter like he belongs here.
Like we're a family.
I get dressed quickly and join them in the kitchen. Elena is standing on a chair at the counter, carefully cracking eggs into a bowl while Lupo supervises. He's shirtless still, and I can see the fresh bandage I applied last night. I’m surprised we didn’t rip it off.
"Careful," he's saying. "Don't get the egg shells in there."
"I know, I know." Elena is intensely focused.
I watch them together. This is what I want. This exact thing. Every morning, every day, for as long as we can have it.
But how long will that be?
Lupo looks up and catches me watching. The heat in his gaze makes me flush. Last night is written all over his face, and suddenly I'm very aware of Elena standing between us.
"Coffee?" I ask, my voice slightly strangled.
"Please."
I make coffee while they finish the eggs. When we all sit down to eat, it feels surreal. Like I'm watching someone else's life. Someone who gets to have this kind of happiness.
Elena chatters about wanting to feed the chickens after breakfast, about a drawing she wants to show Lupo, about how she thinks we should get a cat.
"A cat?" Lupo asks, amused.
"Yes. To catch mice. And to cuddle."
"Those are good reasons." He glances at me. "What do you think, Mama?"
The way he says it, Mama, like he's part of this unit, like he has a say in family decisions, makes my throat tight.
"Maybe," I manage. "We'll see."
After breakfast, Lupo helps Elena feed the chickens while I clean up.
Through the window, I watch them together.
He's crouching down to her level, listening intently to whatever she's telling him.
She's gesturing wildly, excited, and he's nodding like she's saying the most important thing in the world.
Elena has never had this. A man who pays attention, who's gentle, who makes her feel important.
Draco was never like this. Even when Elena was a baby, even when he claimed to love her, it was always conditional. Always about control. He'd hold her when people were watching, but the moment she cried too long or made him look bad, I'd see that flash in his eyes. That rage barely contained.
That's when I knew we had to leave. When I realized the violence that lived in him wouldn't stay directed at only me forever.
Lupo is different. Everything about him is different.
They come back inside, and Lupo announces he needs to get ready for work. Elena pouts but accepts it when he promises to play with her tonight.
I follow him to the bedroom while he gets dressed. Watch him pull on his shirt carefully, favoring his ribs.
"You should stay home today and rest," I say. "What if you tear the wounds open?"
"We need the money." He turns to face me. "I'll be careful. I promise. If we didn’t open any wounds last night, I’m sure I’ll be fine carrying lumber." He crosses to me, cupping my face. "Don't worry about me."
"Too late."
“I'll be back before dinner. And tonight, we can pick up where we left off."
Heat floods through me. "What about Elena?"
"We’ll wait until she’s asleep." He grins. "I'm a patient man, Isabella. I can wait."
"Go on then," I say. "Before I don't let you."
He leaves, and the house feels emptier without him. Elena and I fall into our usual routine, cleaning, playing, tending the garden. But part of me is always listening for him. Waiting for him to come home.
After lunch, I put Elena down for her nap. She fights it, but eventually her eyes close and she's out.
I should rest too. Should take advantage of the quiet. But instead, I find myself sitting at the kitchen table with my phone.
I haven't checked the news in a few days. Haven't let myself spiral into paranoia.
I open the browser and type searches again.
Naples mafia missing boss.
A few articles come up. I scan them quickly. There's mention of a power struggle, someone disappearing, but the details are vague. No names. No photos clear enough to tell me anything.
It could be Lupo. Or it could be someone else entirely.
I'm about to close the browser when I hear it. Tires on gravel. I go to the window and freeze.
There’s an expensive black Mercedes stopping in front of the house.
I know that car.
I know it because I used to ride in it. Used to sit in the passenger seat while Draco drove, his hand possessive on my thigh, his voice smooth as he told me how much he loved me.
Before I knew what love meant to him. That it was all lies.
The driver's door opens, and he steps out.
Draco Vitale.
Tall, still handsome in that polished way, his dark hair starting to gray at the temples. He's wearing a suit, charcoal gray, perfectly tailored. He looks exactly the same as the day I left him.
Except for his eyes. Even from here, I can see the coldness in them.
He found me.
After eighteen months, he finally found me.
I'm still frozen in fear, watching him walk toward the house like he owns it. Like he owns me. Like he owns Elena.
Then my mother's instinct kicks in.
Elena.
I run to her room. She's still sleeping, thank God. I close her door quietly, then stand in front of it. If he gets in, he'll have to go through me first.
The knock on the front door is polite. Almost gentle. That's always how it starts with Draco. Polite. Gentle. Until you say no. Until you try to leave.
"Isabella," he calls through the door. "I know you're in there. Your truck is here. I can hear you moving around."
I don't answer.
"Come now, darling. Don't be childish. Open the door. I just want to talk."
Darling.
He used to call me that when we were together. Before I became a possession. Before love became prison.
"Go away, Draco," I call back, trying to keep my voice steady.
"I can't do that. We have things to discuss. Our daughter, for instance."
"Leave her alone."
"Leave her alone?" His voice rises slightly. "She's my daughter, Isabella. My flesh and blood. And you stole her from me. Took her in the middle of the night like a thief."
"I was protecting her. Protecting us both."
"From what? From a father who loves her? Who wanted to give her everything?" The pleasantness is cracking now. "I held her when she was born. I watched her take her first steps. She's mine as much as she's yours. And you had no right to take her from me."
He's right about that, at least. Elena is his daughter. I can't deny that. But what he doesn't understand, what he's never understood, is that biology doesn't give him the right to hurt us.
"You were going to hurt her," I say. "Just like you hurt me."
"I never touched Elena. Not once."
"Not yet. But it was only a matter of time." My voice breaks. "I saw the way you looked at her when she cried. The way your hands would curl into fists. You were losing control, Draco. And I couldn't let you hurt her like you hurt me."
"You stole my daughter." His voice is cold now.
All pretense of pleasantness gone. "You took my daughter and you ran.
And you've kept her from me for eighteen months.
Eighteen months of her life that I've missed.
Birthdays. Holidays. You stole that from me, Isabella. And you're going to pay for it."
"I'm not discussing this through a door. Leave, Draco. I'll call the police."
He laughs. Actually laughs. "No, you won't. Because then you'd have to explain why you're hiding.
Why you've kept my daughter from her father.
Why you fled in the middle of the night without so much as a custody agreement.
I have lawyers. Very good lawyers. And judges who owe me favors.
" He pauses. "You call the police, and I'll have Elena in my custody by the end of the week. Is that what you want? You’ll never see her again. "
He's right. Damn him, I know he's right.