Chapter 31
Evelyn
Sunlight punched through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows and splashed across the Persian rug.
I leaned back in the rocking chair, the little monster in my arms having just demolished an entire bottle.
She burped—loud and satisfied—then drooled a perfect streak of spit-up right onto my silk blouse.
I sighed and grabbed a tissue. Looking down at this toothless little beast, I couldn't even get mad.
The past six months had been so quiet it felt like a dream.
Despite my protests, Victor replaced every single servant in the manor anyway. He was more bothered by that dark stretch of time than I was. I tried reasoning with him, he nodded along, and the next day even the gardener was a new face.
Arguing with a control-freak mafia Don was a waste of breath. I'd learned to shut up about the small stuff.
The only thing that still hurt was Alexander.
He hadn't set foot through these doors once. I called him a few times after I gave birth. He answered. He wasn't cold. But the second I brought up Victor or hinted at wanting him to meet the baby, the line went dead silent. Then came the dial tone.
I didn't blame him. I understood he didn't approve of Victor and me. But understanding didn't make it hurt less.
Last week, though, something shifted.
I sent him a photo of my daughter fresh out of the bath. She was wrapped up like a little burrito, only her round black eyes peeking out, a weird little smirk tugging at her mouth.
Alexander didn't reply.
But the next day, his butler called—awkward as hell—and asked if I could send more.
I laughed for a long time after I hung up. That stubborn old man was compromising in his own way. Maybe he'd never say the words "I accept," but I knew we'd be okay.
Today the manor was buzzing.
The new staff had been running around since dawn—polishing silver, trimming flowers, even replacing the old lamp in the entryway. I stood at the second-floor window with my daughter in my arms and asked Henry, the butler, what the occasion was.
Henry bowed slightly, a knowing smile on his face. "Julian is coming home."
I paused, then quietly exhaled in relief.
Honestly, I'd been worried about Julian. He'd sounded so confident when he left, but he was only in his twenties.
Victor rarely mentioned Julian in front of me, but sometimes, I'd catch a glimpse of reports on his desk—updates from Luca about where Julian was, what business he was running, whether he'd gotten into trouble. Every time I saw one, I pretended I hadn't. But inside, I'd breathe a little easier.
And today, that stubborn little punk was finally coming home.
At three in the afternoon, Julian's car pulled up to the manor.
When he stepped out, I almost didn't recognize him.
Half a year had darkened his skin, his hair was longer, tucked carelessly behind his ears.
He'd shed some of that playboy arrogance and gained something steadier.
But that cocky edge was still there—he waved dismissively at the staff lined up to greet him.
"Alright, alright, I'm not royalty. Everybody relax. "
Victor stood in the shadows of the entryway, hands in his pockets, expressionless as he watched his son approach.
Julian stopped in front of him. They locked eyes. Julian spoke first.
"I'm only back because I'm broke. Don't read into it."
Victor's mouth twitched. "Your card never had a limit."
"Fine. My company tanked." Julian shrugged with fake nonchalance. "Does it make you happy to kick your son while he's down, asshole?"
Victor glanced at him with that infuriating calm that said "I knew it."
"My first investment at twenty," Victor said, adjusting his cuffs, "paid back in three months. Quadrupled in six."
Julian's face darkened visibly.
I stood there holding the baby, fighting not to laugh.
Julian gave up the pissing contest and turned his attention to the bundle in my arms. His cold mask cracked instantly.
"This is the little thing?" He leaned in, tilting his head. "Why's she so small?"
"She's six months old," I said flatly.
"She looks like a monkey." Julian wrinkled his nose but moved closer.
"You looked like a rat at six months," Victor said coolly. "Scrawny, wrinkled, screamed like someone stepped on your tail."
Julian whipped around. "Bullshit!"
Just as father and son were about to rehash infant-era grievances, Luna burst into tears.
"She's either hungry or she shit herself." I bounced the screaming tyrant in my arms, already heading for the stairs. "You two keep fighting. I'll handle this."
Back in the nursery on the second floor, I pulled the blackout curtains. The room went dim.
Diaper change, bottle prep, burping. After the usual routine, the little monster finally let go of the nipple, smacked her lips twice, and passed out. The air smelled like warm milk.
I shook out my sore arms and gently laid her in the walnut crib, exhaling long and slow. Taking care of a baby was way harder than arguing a case in court.
Soft footsteps behind me.
On a thick wool carpet, only one person moved that quietly—a mafia Don who'd spent his life operating in the dark.
Two solid arms slid around me from behind.
Victor's broad, hot chest pressed against my back. He tightened his hold naturally, locking me into place.
He lowered his head, rested his chin on top of mine, and looked over my shoulder at the soft little lump asleep in the crib.
"Where's Julian?" I whispered, instinctively leaning back and letting him take my full weight.
"Upstairs showering. The oil smell on him could knock out a dog." His voice was low, the rumble of his chest vibrating against my spine—lazy, relaxed.
I laughed softly and covered his hands where they crossed at my waist.
"Tired?" He turned his head, lips brushing my ear.
"No. I'm happy." I closed my eyes, feeling the lines of muscle in his forearms.
Victor didn't answer. He just tightened his grip, turned his head, and pressed a heavy, possessive kiss to the side of my neck.
Downstairs, something clattered, followed by Julian's indignant cursing. Probably knocked something over or was giving the new butler hell.
But that faint chaos didn't make the manor feel colder. It filled it with something ordinary, messy, alive.
I listened to Luna's soft, even breathing, felt the warmth of the man holding me, and couldn't help but smile.
"Victor." I kept my eyes closed and said his name quietly.
"Yeah?" His voice was especially low and gentle in the dim room.
"Nothing." I pressed deeper into his arms, finding a more comfortable spot. "I just realized how happy I am."
He laughed softly in the dark, the sound solid and warm in his chest. He didn't say anything. He just pulled me tighter, fitting me completely into his embrace.