Chapter 35
Zora
The morning after spending the night at Nico's house, I wake feeling as though I haven't rested at all. My body is heavy, but it's the ache beneath my ribs that lingers the most. Yesterday changed everything, leaving me caught somewhere between heartbreak, relief, and confusion.
For a few hours last night, none of it seemed to matter. Wrapped in Nico's arms, the noise in my head finally quieted, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I simply existed instead of constantly fighting to hold myself together.
That feeling lingers with me as I lie there staring at the ceiling. It doesn't erase what happened, but it softens the sharpest edges of it, leaving behind a quiet warmth that makes climbing out of bed just a little easier.
With a quiet sigh, I force myself out of bed and slip into the adjoining bathroom.
After a warm shower, I realize I have nothing to change into.
Opening Nico's wardrobe, I find a neatly folded black T-shirt and pull it over my head.
It hangs almost to the middle of my thighs, carrying the faint scent of his cologne.
Somehow, wearing something that belongs to him feels strangely comforting.
I roll the sleeves up, take one last look at myself in the mirror, and make my way downstairs.
The smell of coffee reaches me before the kitchen does as I step through the doorway to find Nico standing at the stove, his back to me, attempting to make breakfast. Attempting being the important word.
At that exact moment, smoke begins curling lazily out of the toaster.
Nico glances at it, then calmly pulls out two slices of bread that have been burned beyond recognition. He studies them for a moment with complete seriousness before turning toward me.
"Breakfast." He announces, holding them up proudly. "Perfectly crispy."
I blink. "They're charcoal."
"I prefer ambitious."
Despite everything, the corner of my mouth betrays me. "You burned the toast."
"In my defense," he says, dropping the blackened slices onto a plate, "the toaster was clearly overqualified for the job."
A reluctant laugh escapes me. "You've survived firefights, but a kitchen appliance defeated you."
"I'm choosing not to answer that."
He reaches for an egg, cracks it against the counter with more confidence than skill, and promptly watches half of it miss the bowl entirely.
He stares at the mess.
"I've decided these eggs have something against me."
"They're eggs."
"Exactly." He points at the yolk slowly making its way across the countertop. "They're organized."
I laugh once or twice before quickly trying to hide it.
"You are doing this on purpose." I say, shaking my head. "Stop trying to cheer me up. It isn't working."
A faint smile touches Nico's lips as he sets a plate in front of me. Instead of stepping away, he reaches for my hands, gently wrapping his fingers around them before leaning down just enough for our eyes to meet.
"It is working. You smiled."
"I did not."
"You forgot to be sad for a few seconds."
I look away, trying to hide the smile threatening to betray me. "That doesn't count."
"It counts to me." His thumb brushes lightly against my knuckles before he straightens again.
"I'll take every smile I can get from you... even the ones you pretend I didn't earn."
I roll my eyes, but the warmth in my chest is impossible to ignore. It isn't enough to erase everything that happened the night before, but for a few precious minutes, it dulls the edges.
We settle at the table with our slightly questionable breakfast. The toast is a little too dark, the eggs are overcooked, and the coffee is far stronger than it needs to be.
But somehow, none of it matters. The quiet feels comfortable, almost domestic, and strangely normal considering the chaos we've been living through.
Halfway through the meal, Nico sets his fork down. The shift in him is immediate.
The teasing disappears from his face, replaced by a heaviness that makes my stomach tighten before he even speaks. He stares into his coffee for several long seconds, his thumb absently tracing the rim of the mug.
"There's something I should've told you a long time ago."
The weight behind those words steals the last of my appetite. Without saying anything, I place my fork beside my plate and give him my full attention.
He draws in a slow breath. "My father's name was Vittorio Valenti."
The name is unfamiliar, but the pain behind it isn't.
"For years, Marcus, your father, made me believe my father died in a war between rival criminal organizations when I was sixteen." His jaw tightens. "I believed every word because I was a grieving child looking for someone to blame."
He falls silent for a moment before continuing. "It wasn't true."
I don't interrupt.
"My father wanted to leave. He'd spent years helping Marcus build the empire, but eventually he wanted out. Marcus refused to lose the man who'd built so much of it beside him..."
His voice grows quieter. "So he killed him."
The words settle heavily in my chest. I have never been naive enough to believe that dad was innocent. I know the empire he built came at the cost of countless lives. But hearing that one of those lives was Nico's father makes it painfully personal.
For the first time, the consequences of dad's choices are no longer distant stories buried in the empire's history. They're sitting across from me, wearing Nico's face.
"I didn't uncover the truth until after Marcus died. By then, the man responsible was already beyond my reach." A bitter laugh escapes him. "I couldn't make Marcus pay for what he'd done."
For the first time since I know him, I truly see the grief beneath his composure. It isn't fresh, but it has never healed either. It has simply been carried for so long that it became part of him.
His eyes finally meet mine. "So I convinced myself I'd make his legacy pay instead."
A chill runs through me.
"I swore I'd destroy everything he left behind. The Krogen Empire. The fortune he built. The name he spent his life protecting." He hesitates. "And the person who inherited it."
My chest tightens before the answer even comes.
"You." The single word lands harder than everything that came before.
The room feels unnaturally quiet.
"I was the one who went to Stefano." He admits. "I asked him to bring you into the Keegan operation because it gave me exactly what I needed." His expression hardens. Not with anger, but with shame. "A way into your life."
I can only stare at him, my thoughts hopelessly tangled. Part of me wants to be horrified by what he's admitting. Another part can't stop picturing the little boy who lost his father because of mine.
"When we first met, protecting you was never part of the plan." He lowers his gaze.
"I wanted you to trust me. I wanted to get close enough that, when the time came..." His voice almost fails him. "...I could destroy you along with everything Marcus left behind."
The confession hangs between us, draining every trace of warmth from the room. I stare at him, my mind racing through every memory we've shared over the past several weeks. They all blur together beneath one terrifying question.
How much of it was real?
Tears blur my vision before I even realize they have started falling.
I quickly wipe them away, but they are replaced almost immediately by more.
My chest feels painfully tight, as though every word he has spoken has settled there all at once.
I want to believe the man sitting in front of me is the Nico I have come to know, yet I cannot silence the voice reminding me that he entered my life with the intention of destroying it and somehow he succeeded.
"You..." My voice breaks before I can finish the sentence. I lower my eyes, taking a slow breath before forcing myself to meet his gaze again. "You planned all of this?"
Nico doesn't answer right away. He doesn't defend himself or try to soften the truth. After a long, painful silence, he gives a single nod.
"At the beginning... yes." The admission hurts far more than I expect.
I let out a shaky breath, another tear slipping down my cheek as dozens of questions race through my mind at once. None of them seem important except one. One question frightens me more than all the others.
I swallow hard before asking it. "Were you the one who leaked the footage of us kissing to the media?"
Nico's head lifts instantly. "No." The answer comes so quickly that it catches me off guard. "I had nothing to do with that."
His voice remains calm, but there is an urgency behind it that I have rarely heard from him. "I swear to you, Zora."
He leans forward slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. "I won't lie to you again. Not after everything I've just told you."
I search his face, looking for even the slightest hesitation. There isn't any.
"I wanted revenge." He admits quietly. "I wanted to destroy the empire Marcus left behind because I couldn't destroy the man himself. I won't pretend otherwise. But leaking that footage..." He slowly shakes his head. "That wasn't me. I would've never humiliated you like that."
Silence settles between us again.
He looks down at the coffee growing cold in front of him before speaking once more.
"The truth is..." A faint, almost bitter smile crosses his face. "I genuinely couldn't stand you when we first met."
I let out a quiet, tearful laugh. "Is that why you were constantly trying to get on my nerves?"
"The opportunity was usually too good to pass up."
I shake my head. "You were insufferable."
"So were you."
For the first time since he started talking, the corner of his mouth lifts ever so slightly.
"You questioned everything I said. You argued with me over the smallest things. Every time I thought I understood you, you proved me wrong." He pauses, exhaling quietly. "You drove me insane."
"And yet..." His smile slowly fades. "Somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing Marcus Krogen's daughter."
His voice softens. "I started seeing the woman standing in front of me. You became Zora... You became my little Elf."
The nickname, which usually makes me roll my eyes, only makes my heart ache.
"I kept telling myself what I felt would pass.
" He continues. "That once the mission was over, I'd remember why I came into your life in the first place.
But Ireland became the island. The island became Elysian Haven.
Every day I spent with you made revenge feel less like justice and more like something that belonged to a version of me I barely recognized anymore. "
"Somewhere along the way..." His voice is barely above a whisper. "Revenge stopped feeling as simple as it once had."
He draws a slow breath. "Every plan I'd spent months convincing myself was justified... started feeling wrong."
"I'm sorry." I whisper, my throat tightening.
His eyes lift to mine.
"I'm sorry that my dad took yours away from you. I'm sorry you spent years believing a lie he created. And I'm sorry you had to carry that grief alone."
He shakes his head almost immediately. "You don't owe me an apology."
"I know I didn't do it." I say quietly. "But I hate that the man who did... was my dad."
A shadow of sadness crosses his face. "So do I."
Neither of us speaks after that. The silence between us is heavy, filled with too many truths for either of us to carry alone.
Before either of us can find the words to break the silence, my phone begins ringing on the kitchen counter. The sudden sound pulls both of us from our thoughts. I glance at the screen.
Sebastian.
After several seconds of hesitation, I answer. "Hello?"
There's a brief pause before he speaks. "I've had time to think."
His voice is noticeably calmer than it had been the night before.
"I owe you an apology. I lost control yesterday. There's no excuse for the way I spoke to you... or for the way I drove."
I remain silent, waiting for him to continue.
"I'd like to apologize properly." He says. "Can you come to the office? Just the two of us."
My eyes lift instinctively to Nico. He hasn't moved. He's watching me, his jaw set, reading my expression rather than trying to influence it.
"I think we owe each other one honest conversation." Sebastian continues. "Whatever happens after this, I'd rather we end it face to face than over the phone."
The sincerity in his voice makes it difficult to know what to believe.
"I'll think about it." I say quietly.
"Please." He says gently. "Come now. The longer we leave this, the harder it's going to become."
The call ends, leaving the kitchen just as silent as it had been before the phone rang.
"I have to go." I say quietly.
Nico's expression hardens. "No."
"I owe him a conversation."
"You don’t owe him a damn thing." His voice remains calm, but there's an unmistakable edge to it. "After everything he did last night, the last place I want you is alone with him."
"Nico... we were together for years. I can't just disappear. I need to end this properly."
His jaw tightens. "He dragged you out of your own party and drove like a maniac." He shakes his head. "I don't trust him."
"I'll be careful."
He studies me for a long moment before pushing back his chair. Without a word, he walks to the entryway, picks up his car keys from the console near the front door, and returns to the table. He sets them down in front of me.
"Take my car."
I pick them up.
"If he apologizes, good. If he doesn't..." He leans forward slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. "The second he tries anything, you kick his ass."
Despite myself, I smile.
"I'm serious, Zora."
"I know."
"And then you call me. I don't care if you're in the middle of a sentence. You call me, and I'll come get you."
"I promise."
He doesn't look convinced, but after a long moment, he gives a reluctant nod.
A few minutes later, after changing into one of Nico's T-shirts and a pair of his trousers, I climb into his car. He remains standing on the front steps, watching in silence. Neither of us says goodbye. We simply hold each other's gaze for one lingering moment before I pull away.
I catch one last glimpse of him in the rearview mirror. He doesn't move. He simply stands there, hands in his pockets, watching until the distance finally swallows him from view.
As the city unfolds ahead of me, my thoughts refuse to settle.
Only hours ago, Nico confessed that he had entered my life intending to destroy everything dad left behind, including me.
Yet he was also the man who had crossed an entire city to save me, held me together when I fell apart, and told me the truth even knowing it could cost him everything.
I no longer know which version of him I'm supposed to believe. All I know is that I'm driving toward a conversation I can't avoid... while leaving behind the only person who has stopped lying to me.