Chapter 26 Isabella #2
"But there's something else we need to consider."
"What?"
I hesitate, then say it. "Elena. She's gotten attached to you. Calls you Daddy. If you leave, whether to go to Naples or because it's too dangerous to stay, it's going to break her little heart."
The pain that crosses his face is visceral. "I’ve already thought of that."
"And mine," I add quietly.
He looks up sharply. "Isabella—"
"Don't." I shake my head. "Don't say anything. I'm just—I'm being honest. Like you asked. You're not the only one who's afraid of losing what we have here."
"I don't have answers," Lupo says finally. "I don't know what the right choice is. But I know I can't make this decision without you. Without knowing how you feel. What you want."
"What I want?" I let out a laugh. "I want my daughter to be safe. I want to stop running. I want—" I stop myself before I say too much.
"What?"
"Nothing. It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
I look at him. At this man who appeared broken and bleeding in my field. Who became essential to me so quickly I didn't even notice it happening. Who is simultaneously the most dangerous and safest person I've ever known.
"I want you to stay," I admit. "Even though I know that's selfish. Even though I know it might get us all killed. I want you to stay and be the man Elena thinks you are. The man I—" I stop again. Shake my head. "But what I want doesn't change reality. Doesn't make the threats go away."
"No. But it matters." He leans forward. "Isabella, if I could stay. If I could be that man without the past destroying us, I would. In a heartbeat."
"But you can't."
"I don't think so." He runs his hand over his face. "I need more information. Need to understand what the real threats are. Whether the Florence family is actually looking for me, or if they think I'm dead like Ciro said. Whether Draco’s people are still searching."
"What do you want to do?"
"I think—" He stops, working through it. "I think I need to call Ciro. Get more information. Find out exactly how unstable things are, whether anyone's asking questions, whether there's been any movement from the Florence family."
"And then?"
"We make a decision. Together." He looks at me. "But Isabella, you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that I might have to go back. At least for a while. To stabilize things, to eliminate threats, to make it safe for you and Elena."
The thought of him leaving, of him walking back into that violent world takes my breath away with fear. But I understand the logic.
"How long would you be gone?"
"I don't know. Days. Weeks. Maybe longer if things are as bad as Ciro says." He pauses. "But I would come back. As soon as I could make it safe, I would come back."
"You can't promise that because you don’t know what will happen."
"No," he admits. "I can't. That world doesn't make promises. But I can promise to try. And I can promise that even if I go back, even if I remember everything—you and Elena are what I'll be trying to protect. Not my organization. Not my power. You."
I want to believe him. Want to trust that he won't get pulled back into that life completely. But I've seen how that world works. How it swallows people whole.
"What if you remember and realize you don't want this anymore?" I ask quietly. "This simple life. This farm. Us. You have a life there too. It must mean something to you."
"That won't happen."
"How do you know?"
"Because—" He stops, and I see him struggle with something.
"Even now, before my memory returns, I know what matters.
And it's not power or money or control. It's Elena asking me to make eggs.
It's you sleeping in my arms. It's fixing a fence and gathering olives and reading bedtime stories.
Being with the two of you matters to me. "
My throat is tight. "Lupo—"
"I'm not good with words. I don't know how to explain what this—what you—mean to me.
But I know I can't lose it. Won't survive losing it.
" He reaches across the table again, and this time I let him take my hand.
"Whatever I have to do to keep you safe, to keep Elena safe, to make it possible for us to have a future—I'll do it.
Even if it means going back temporarily. Even if it means facing who I was."
I stare at our joined hands. His are so much larger than mine, scarred and calloused from work. Hands that have killed. Hands that have held me gently.
"When will you call him?" I ask.
"Tomorrow. After work. I'll find out what the situation really is, what my options are." He squeezes my hand. "And then we'll figure out the next step."
"Together?"
"Together," he agrees.
We sit like that for a while, holding hands across the table, neither of us ready to let go or say goodnight. Because we both know that once he makes that call, everything changes.
This fragile peace we've built—this pretense that we're just a normal family on a quiet farm—will shatter.
And we'll have to face the reality of who we both really are.
Two people running from violent pasts, trying to build something good in the wreckage. Two people who found each other by accident and are desperately trying to hold on.
We might not survive what's coming.
But at least we'll face it together.
Finally, Lupo stands. "You should sleep. It's late."
"So should you."
"I will later." But we both know he won't. He'll stay awake in the barn, thinking through scenarios, preparing for threats, making plans.
Because that's who he is. Who he's always been. A man who protects what's his. And somewhere in the past few weeks, Elena and I became his to protect.
He walks to the door, then pauses. Turns back to look at me.
"Isabella?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For not running. For listening. For—" He stops, struggling again. "For not looking at me like I'm a monster."
"You're not a monster."
"I might be. I’m fairly certain I am."
"You're my monster then," I say quietly. "And Elena's. And maybe that's enough."
Something in his expression shifts. Softens. "Yeah," he says. "Maybe it is."
Then he's gone, the door closing softly behind him, and I'm alone in the kitchen with cold coffee and a heart that's beating too fast.