Elena
I sit frozen on Luca's leather couch, trying to keep the terror I feel from consuming me.
The grandfather clock in the corner ticks, marking each second my son is missing.
"Mommy, when is Rocco coming back?" Adalina's voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts.
I force my lips into what I hope resembles a smile. "Soon, baby. Your daddy and Uncle Dom are going to find him.”
Elio sits cross-legged on the floor, methodically lining up toy cars in perfect rows.
The front door opens, and Gabriella sweeps in, Isabella following with Angelica in tow.
Isabella kneels beside me, squeezing my hand. "Marco says they have leads already. Roman's with them too."
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
"Angelica, why don't you show Adalina and Elio that new game on your tablet?" Isabella suggests.
“There’s a playroom,” I say, wanting the kids to have a semblance of normalcy.
I also don’t want them to see me if I completely fall apart.
"Come on, guys. Show me your playroom,” Angelica says to Elio and Adalina.
The children follow her down the hall, Elio looking back once with worried eyes before disappearing around the corner.
"They'll be okay," Gabriella says, settling beside me. "Children are resilient."
"I can't lose him." I finally allow the facade to crack. "I can't."
"You won't," Isabella says with such conviction that I almost believe her. "There’s an army of men looking for him."
I look at both of them. “I feel like I should call the police or—”
“I won’t tell you not to,” Gabriella says, “But you need to remember that we have law enforcement and other resources already at our disposal. Calling the police could hamper their efforts.”
I understand her statement to tell me that Luca and the others can work outside the law, and while it’s wrong, I have to admit I don’t want any limits on how my child can be found.
From down the hall comes the sound of laughter. Angelica has managed to distract my children.
“I’m going to check in with my father real quick,” Gabriella says. “I’ll come back with some sustenance.”
“I’ll help.” Isabella follows her out of the room.
I’m not hungry, but I’m too emotional to tell her that. Instead, my mind is spiraling, thinking about Rocco. Is he cold? Scared? Calling for me? The thought of his little voice crying out for his mother while I sit here, helpless, tears through my heart.
I press my palms against my eyes, willing the tears back.
Gabriella and Isabella return with a tray of snacks. Gabriella holds out a crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid.
"Antonio's asking questions," she says quietly. "I told him what I could."
I accept the drink, not bothering to ask what it is. The first sip burns down my throat, spreading warmth through my chest. By the third sip, a welcome numbness begins to settle over my ragged nerves.
"Thank you," I manage.
Gabriella sits beside me. "Elena," she begins carefully, "we need to consider who might have taken Rocco specifically. This wasn't random."
I don’t think so either. But who would want to take my child?
"I don't know. All I can think of is someone not happy with Luca—”
“You’re going to blame my brother?” Gabriella doesn’t hide her offense.
“I’m not blaming. You asked me who would want to do this.”
She shakes her head at me. “Had he known sooner, this might not have happened.”
“Gab, we don’t know that,” Isabella says, her tone chastising.
"I couldn't risk them becoming pawns.”
Gabriella's eyes flash. "Yet here we are anyway." Her words land like stones. "If Luca had known from the beginning, proper protection would have been in place."
"That's not fair," Isabella interjects. "Elena made choices based on what she knew then. The blame belongs to whoever took Rocco."
Gabriella runs a hand through her hair as she blows out a frustrated breath. "Of course the kidnapper is to blame.”
It doesn’t feel like now is the time or place for discussing my choices seven years ago, but I welcome this argument.
It's easier to defend my past than to sit in helpless silence, imagining what Rocco might be enduring.
“But why, Elena? Why keep it from him even after Aldo was dead? After Luca came back?"
Isabella places a warning hand on Gabriella's arm. "This isn't helping."
But I need this distraction, this fight. It keeps the panic at bay. “Because Luca wanted to clear his name and in doing so, he’d be putting a target on his back. Anyone wanting revenge could use the children to hurt him.”
“Do you think that’s what’s happening now?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
“If it were, it seems like a message would have been sent by now,” Isabella says.
Gabriella scoffs. “For all we know, one has. The men like to keep us in the dark.”
"We're going to find him," Isabella tries to reassure me.
There’s a long silence as if we’re all expecting Luca and Rocco to walk through the front door at any moment.
“Did you love him?” Gabriella asks, breaking the silence.
“Yes.” I chance a glance at her. "I never stopped. Even when I hated him for what I thought he'd done to my father, I loved him."
Isabella's eyes soften with understanding, while Gabriella remains silent, watching me carefully.
"When I found out I was pregnant, I cried for days.
Not because I didn't want the babies, but because I wanted them with him, in a different world, in a different life.
" I wipe away a tear with the back of my hand.
"The worst part? When he came back last year, I still couldn't tell him.
The lie had grown too big, too tangled with everything else. "
"And now?" Gabriella asks quietly.
“Now I just want my son back," I say. "And I'll do anything, face any consequence, to make that happen."
“Consequence?” Isabella asks.
“If Luca feels he needs to take them from me, take them to Italy, I won’t fight it.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Gabriella jumps up, clearly unhappy with my statement. “Luca is not a monster, Elena. He’s hurt, destroyed by what you did, but he’d never in a million years hurt those kids by taking them away from you.”
“Gabriella,” Isabella once again interjects.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t stand by and have her act like Luca is the monster here.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m the monster. I know that.”
“Come on, Elena. Why don’t you eat something? I’ll arrange for the kids to get some food as well—”
“I’ll do it,” Gabriella says. “I need to cool off anyway.” As she’s leaving the living area, she stops. “I don’t mean to be such a bitch, Elena. I love my brother. He’s a good man. You could do a lot worse.”
I nod. “I know.”
I’m so, so tired. I want to sleep, but I know I won’t.
The hours pass.
The kids are sleeping upstairs.
Isabella and Gabriella are in the living room with me, but they too are sleeping.
But I can’t rest.
I can’t even close my eyes.
The front door opens. I rush to it.
Luca steps inside, his shoulders hunched, his face carved with exhaustion, eyes hollow.
I search his expression for any sign, good or bad.
"Anything?" I ask.
He shakes his head once, the small movement devastating in its finality.
Without a word, he walks past me toward his office. I follow him.
He goes to his desk, bracing his hands on it, his head bowed in defeat.
“Have you learned anything? Please, Luca. Tell me something."
"Nothing," he says. "No ransom call. No witnesses who remember seeing anything useful. Nothing."
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold. "But that's impossible. Someone must have seen something."
“Santa and a kid. Nothing to use to track them. Dom's men are checking security cameras from surrounding businesses. Marco's got contacts in law enforcement looking for any similar incidents." He runs a hand over his face. "We'll find him, Elena."
But he doesn’t sound as sure as he did earlier.
He lifts his head, his tormented gaze facing me. "This is my fault. I should have listened to you. I pushed too hard about your father."
"No," I say, stepping closer. "I should have told you about the children. We wouldn't be here if—"
"It doesn't matter now." Luca straightens, his expression hardening. "I'm going to find our son. I'll make sure you and the kids are safe. And then I'll stay out of your lives."
His words come out of nowhere. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I was wrong to force my way in. You were right to keep them away from all this." His eyes meet mine again. "From me."
"Luca, no—"
"I couldn't protect him," he cuts me off. "Our son is gone because of who I am, what I've done."
I reach for him, but he steps back, creating a chasm between us that feels impossible to cross.
"Luca, stop." I step toward him but don’t touch him. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to decide you're the villain here when we know nothing about who took Rocco or why."
He looks at me with those haunted eyes. Something fierce and protective ignites within me, not just for my missing son, but for this broken man before me.
"Our son is missing because someone evil took him," I continue. "Not because you wanted to know him. Not because you wanted the truth about my father."
"You said yourself that it was dangerous," he counters, his voice hollow. "You warned me. It’s why you kept them from me. Turns out you were right."
I wonder if there will ever come a day in which the guilt from my choices doesn’t threaten to drown me. “I was wrong. I've been afraid for so long, it became my normal. But I was wrong to let fear dictate everything."
Luca turns away, bracing his hands against his desk again.
The weight of the world seems to press down on his shoulders.
I've never seen him like this.
I’ve never seen anyone like this.
A man brought to his knees, not by bullets or rivals, but by the absence of a child he's barely had time to know.
"If anything happens to him…"
I want to reassure him, but I know I can’t.
I reach for Luca's hand. He flinches but doesn't pull away.
"I can't lose him." Luca's voice is raw with the same fear and pain I feel. "I just found him."
Without thinking, I step closer, wrapping my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek against his chest.
For a moment, he remains rigid, but then, slowly, his arms encircle me, tentative at first, then tightening as though I'm the only thing keeping him upright.
“All I wanted was to spend my life as a family with you. At every turn, something fucks it up. And now Rocco is paying—"
"We won't lose him. Rocco is strong. Like his father."
We stand like this, two broken people holding each other together, hoping by sheer will that our son will be found safe and sound.
"I should have protected you both better," he says into my hair.
"And I should have trusted you more," I reply, my voice muffled against his shirt. "But we can't change the past. We can only fight for our future."
Luca straightens, his face filled with exhaustion and determination. "I need to get back out there.” He goes to a large safe. Using the combination, he opens it and pulls out weapons and ammunition. It’s a reminder of how dangerous our world is.
He closes the safe and turns to me. “Call me immediately if you hear anything. I've posted men around the house. No one gets in or out without my knowledge."
I nod, a sense of dread filling me. If this is about vengeance against him, it’s possible he’ll be killed tonight.
"Try to rest," he says, already moving toward the door. "The kids will need you in the morning."
As he reaches for the doorknob, I find myself needing to give him something. "I never saw you as the danger, Luca. Never. I was afraid of everyone else."
He pauses but keeps his back to me.
“Luca?”
He looks over his shoulder at me.
“I love you. I always have.” Why haven’t I told him this sooner?
The torment in his eyes suggests I said the wrong thing. He’s not angry, but my words are too little, too late.
Like I’m pouring salt on a wound.
He nods once and walks out, leaving me alone with my guilt and regret.
I sink into his chair and succumb to the emotions.
I weep for Rocco, for the years we've all lost, and for the broken pieces of what could have been a family.