Chapter Thirty-Three
Gualtiero
She says it as if it were a mercy.
Let me go.
The words don’t land all at once. They splinter. One shard at a time, each cutting deeper than the last.
For a moment, I cannot breathe.
I stand there, rooted to the cabin floor, watching the woman I love cry like she has already resigned herself to the loss. Like she has already stepped into a future that doesn’t include me.
That’s what terrifies me most.
Not her anger. Not her tears.
Her certainty.
“Ella,” I say quietly.
She doesn’t look up.
The fire crackles behind her, a low, steady sound that feels obscene in its normalcy. The world keeps going. Wood burns. Snow falls. My men stand guard outside, waiting for orders.
And inside this room, everything I have built my life around is slipping through my fingers.
“You’re asking me to do the impossible,” I say.
She shakes her head, still staring at her hands folded over her stomach.
“No. I’m asking you to accept reality.”
That word again.
Reality.
I’ve spent my entire life shaping it, bending it, forcing it to my will. And I’m not going to stop now.
“Ella,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “I will never abandon you or our child. That’s not an option.”
Her gaze lifts to mine, guarded, weary.
“Of course you would say that,” she replies. “You have always seen me as yours.”
It’s true. There’s no point in denying it.
From the very first moment I met her, she was mine. But what she fails to realize is that I was hers too.
I kneel in front of her before she can pull further away, my hand finding her stomach without thinking. The knowledge that our child is growing beneath my palm grounds me.
“I won’t be kept from my child. Or from you,” I say firmly. “We will find a solution. I promise you.”
She exhales, a sound heavy with frustration.
“How can you promise that? You are still the Don. And I still can’t stand what you do. I can’t live by your side with a clear conscience.”
Her words land with precision. No theatrics. No anger for me to deflect.
“How can this possibly work?” she continues. “Please, Tiero. Just let me go.”
I answer without hesitation.
“Never.”
The finality of it echoes in the space between us.
I see the flicker in her eyes. Fear, yes. But also something else. The part of her that has always known I don’t surrender what I love.
“I will never give up on us.” She needs to understand that. “I love you. We can make this work. We can—”
“How?” she challenges. “The only way I could be happy with you is if you were not in the Mafia. And you said it yourself. You can never leave. You were born into la famiglia and you will die in it.”
I rise and sit beside her on the bed, my hand never leaving her belly.
“Tiero, I’m not returning to Sicily,” she says firmly. “And if you make me, I swear you will regret it forever.”
I study her face. There’s no bluff there. Only resolve. My fingers curl reflexively, nails biting into my palm.
What she doesn’t get is that everything changed for me when she was gone.
I’m prepared to give up everything for her. But doing it without getting us killed takes meticulous planning. I’ve been doing little else in the past few weeks.
Every moment I had to myself was spent on planning our future. A future away from the only life I’ve ever known. Because deep down inside, I knew Ella would never go for it.
But I need more time.
“Angel,” I say carefully, “I have had a bedroom converted into an examination room. Doctor Agosti brought in an ultrasound machine. An obstetrician will be there full-time. This is the safest place for you while we work on a solution.”
She stares at me, disbelief written across her face.
She yanks her hand from mine and stands, pacing. I track her movements, my instincts sharpening.
“An examination room just for me? Who does that?”
She throws her hands up in the air.
I look at her, puzzled.
Why does that upset her? Of course, I’d make sure we have everything to care for her properly during pregnancy.
“You’re already doing it again. You’re bulldozing all over what I want.” Frustration laces her tone.
“No, I will stay here,” she declares. “And don’t even think about drugging me to take me anywhere. You can’t do that while I’m pregnant.”
“I never wanted them to drug you,” I reply. “Except for that one time.”
Rome. Molinaro. The night he almost succeeded in taking her from me. She was beside herself and welcomed the dark.
I move toward her slowly, deliberately. When I reach her, I cradle her face, forcing her to meet my eyes.
“Angel,” I say quietly, dropping my voice to a bare whisper. “I’m working on a way out. For you. For us. But it takes time. This is not something I can do overnight. It requires planning. Precision. Please trust me.”
Her breath stutters.
“You are trying to get out?” she whispers. “Out of the Mafia?”
I nod.
“For me?” she asks.
“For you,” I say. “Life without you isn’t an option. You laid down your boundaries many weeks ago, and I have accepted them. I had all that time while we were apart to think about what I truly want.”
I pause to let her see the sincerity in my eyes, the truth I could no longer hide from.
“The answer is always you.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, her expression shifts. From disbelief to total softness.
She melts into me before she can stop herself. And I welcome her warmth. It’s like the return of the sun after a never-ending period of rain.
Ella’s arms wind around my waist, and she buries her face in my chest. I pull her closer, hold her, breathing her in like I’m starving.
“How?” she asks softly against my chest. “How are you going to do it?”
I brush my mouth near her ear, and goosebumps erupt on her skin.
“I will tell you. Just not now. There are too many ears here. This has to remain secret. You can’t speak of it to anyone.”
I feel the hesitation ripple through her.
“Tiero,” she says, pulling back to search my face.
Skepticism is back in her eyes. I hate seeing it there.
“I want to believe you, I really do. But you have given me little reason to trust you. You destroyed the life I loved. You took control of everything. You lied about who you were—”
“I never lied,” I say evenly. “I withheld. To protect you.”
“There it is again,” she snaps. “You deciding what is good for me. If it affects me, I should be the judge! No one else.”
She steps away, anger flaring bright and sharp.
“You steamrolled everything I wanted,” she continues. “You wouldn’t even give me back my own clothes.”
Remorse coils tight in my chest.
“Princess,” I start.
“Don’t princess me.” She throws her arms up in the air in exasperation.
The room vibrates with her fury. And still, I remain calm. I have faced guns, knives, betrayal. This is harder.
“Talk to me,” I say.
“Are you sure?” she demands. “You never listen.”
And before I can even answer, it spills out. All of it. Her pain. Her rage.
“Everything is just… fucked up!” she explodes.
Ella doesn’t usually swear. And I have to suppress a smile trying to break through despite the tension between us.
“Not once did you consider what I wanted. Even before you kidnapped me. You stuck guards on me who reported back to you every one of my movements. You made my friends leave Sicily early. Oh my God, the lengths you went to with that one! And you hijacked my itinerary.
“And after you kidnapped me? You decided everything for me. From what I could wear, to having children and getting married.
“You destroyed the life I loved back in Ireland with no remorse and then expected me to accept yours.
“No, just no, Tiero. No matter what my feelings are for you, this isn’t okay!”
Hearing it laid out like this… it does sound bad, even to me.
She’s right. I didn’t consider her wants or needs. I believed I knew best.
“If I could go back, I would do many things differently,” I say when she finishes. “I was arrogant and overbearing. It took you running for me to understand how badly I failed you.”
Her eyes crinkle, and she tilts her head to the side as my words sink in. She didn’t expect me to admit that I did wrong by her.
“I’ve learned from my mistakes. And I’m clear now about what kind of relationship I want.”
Her eyes widen, curiosity and hope shining in them.
“And what kind of relationship is that?”
“The kind where we trust each other. Where both of us speak freely. Where I don’t rule your life.”
She watches me carefully.
Good. I want her to see how serious I am about this.
“Please, give us a chance to become something better.”
Her resistance softens. Just a little.
“I admit I wanted you pregnant,” I continue, needing to be honest with her. “I wanted a piece of us to live on. Still do.”
I smile at her.
“Angel, I’ve waited my whole life for you. Waiting any longer for our life together to begin felt impossible.
“Was it right? No. And for that, I am truly sorry.”
She stares at me in disbelief and surprise.
She knows I don’t apologize. It’s not something men like me are expected to do.
Only for her.
She sinks onto the bed, exhaustion pulling her down. I kneel before her, taking her hands in mine.
“Ella, you are in my soul,” I say. “I live and breathe for you. We will find a way. Please have faith in me.
“You and I are meant to be. You feel it too, don’t you?”
Tears well up in her eyes once more, and she lets out a long sigh.
Is she still not getting how much she is part of me?
My heart speeds up, trepidation taking over. I don’t know what else to say to convince her that we belong together.
Then she leans forward, her forehead resting against mine, and this simple gesture instantly calms me.
“Yes,” she whispers. “I feel it.”
Relief tears through me, and my breath finally comes easier as I allow myself, just for this moment, to believe everything might be all right.
“That is all that matters,” I murmur.
But she shakes her head almost imperceptibly. I only notice because her forehead is connected to mine. My stomach drops and I brace myself.
“Tiero,” she says softly. “Sometimes love isn’t enough.”
“It is the best foundation,” I counter. “Please, Ella. Give us a chance, a real one.”
I cup her face and kiss her gently, reverently. A plea, not a claim.
“We will find a way. Together.”