Claire refused to let go of Christine.
Her small arms stayed wrapped around Christine's neck as if the moment she loosened her hold, Christine would disappear too. Christine remained kneeling on the floor, holding the child against her chest while the entire room watched them in silence.
It was strange, Christine thought. All her life, she had longed for someone to hold her this way. Desperately. Fearfully. As if losing her would break something inside them.
But the first person to do it was a little girl who had just lost her mother.
Christine closed her eyes and rubbed Claire's back gently.
"I'm here," she whispered. "Don't cry anymore. I'm here."
Claire sniffed. "Promise?"
Christine opened her eyes.
Promise.
The word was heavier than it should have been.
She had learned a long time ago not to make promises easily. People made promises when emotions were high, then forgot them when life became difficult. Her father had promised she would always be his little girl. Celine had promised to accept her into the family. Joseph had once looked at her like he would protect her, then became one of the reasons she had to leave.
Christine swallowed the lump in her throat.
"For tonight," she said softly. "I promise I won't leave you tonight."
Claire nodded against her shoulder, still crying quietly.
Joseph stood a few steps away, his eyes fixed on them.
For tonight.
Those two words bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Christine had not said she would stay. She had not said she belonged here. She had not said she would forgive him, or even try.
She only promised one night.
And Joseph suddenly felt the terrifying possibility that when morning came, Christine would leave again.
Jolo walked closer and crouched beside them. "Claire, come here for a while. Big sister Christine's legs might fall asleep."
Claire shook her head and tightened her arms around Christine.
Jolo looked at Christine helplessly. "She likes you better than me now."
Christine gave him a tired smile. "That is because I am prettier."
Jolo placed a hand over his chest. "That hurts."
Claire sniffed, then giggled faintly through her tears.
The small sound softened the heavy air around them.
Joseph watched the exchange, and his jaw tightened before he could stop it. It was always like this with Jolo. Easy. Natural. Warm. Christine could laugh with him even in the middle of grief. With Joseph, she was guarded, wounded, and ready to run.
He hated it.
He hated that his own brother could make her smile when all he seemed capable of doing was making her flinch.
"Claire," Joseph said.
The little girl lifted her head.
"Come here."
Claire hesitated, then slowly let go of Christine. Joseph bent down and opened his arms. Claire went to him, and he lifted her carefully. She rested her head on his shoulder, exhausted from crying.
Christine stood up slowly. Her knees felt weak. Jolo immediately held her elbow to steady her.
"Careful," he said.
Joseph's eyes moved to Jolo's hand.
Christine noticed.
So did Jolo.
Jolo's lips curved slightly, but he wisely let go.
"I'm fine," Christine said.
Joseph looked at her. "You need to rest."
"I just got here."
"You look pale."
"I said I'm fine."
Claire lifted her head from Joseph's shoulder. "Big sister Christine, can you sleep beside me tonight?"
Christine froze.
Joseph looked at her.
Jolo looked away, pretending not to listen, though he was clearly listening.
Christine's lips parted, but no answer came out right away. She had planned to stay only until the wake ended for the night. She had planned to retreat to her room, message Charlie again, and ask him how soon she could return to modeling. She needed work. She needed money. She needed a life that did not revolve around Joseph Arante and the pain of the Arante mansion.
But Claire was staring at her with red, hopeful eyes.
"Please?" Claire whispered.
Christine's heart gave in before her mind could argue.
"Okay," she said quietly. "I'll sleep beside you."
Claire finally relaxed against Joseph.
Joseph's expression remained unreadable, but something in his chest loosened. Christine would not leave tonight. At least, not tonight.
From across the room, Donna watched everything with a stiff smile.
She had seen the way Joseph looked at Christine. She had seen the way his eyes followed Jolo's hand when he touched her. She had heard him say Christine was family.
Family.
The word repeated in her mind like an insult.
Donna lowered her eyes and pretended to wipe tears from her cheek. But beneath the handkerchief, her lips twisted.
Christine had returned, and already everyone was circling around her again. Claire clung to her. Jolo protected her. Cecilia cried over her. And Joseph…
Donna's fingers tightened around the handkerchief.
Joseph looked at her as if she was the only woman in the room.
That could not continue.
Not after everything Donna had waited for.
Not after Celine was finally gone.
Later that night, when the guests became fewer and the room grew quieter, Christine sat in the private room with Claire sleeping beside her. The child's tiny hand was still clutching the hem of Christine's shirt.
Christine looked down at her and sighed.
"You're making it hard for me to leave, little one," she whispered.
The door opened softly.
Christine turned.
Joseph stood there, his sleeves rolled up, his tie loosened, and exhaustion shadowing his face. For once, he looked less like the untouchable master of the Arante family and more like a man who had been carrying too much for too long.
"She's asleep?" he asked quietly.
Christine nodded. "Finally."
Joseph entered and closed the door behind him.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Christine looked away. "You should sleep too. Cecilia said you barely slept for two days."
"You were planning to leave."
Her body stiffened.
Joseph's voice was low. "Were you going back to M City?"
Christine slowly looked at him. "Yes."
His face darkened. "To model again?"
"That is my work."
"You don't need to work."
Christine laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. "Because you'll provide for me? Then what? I stay in your house, eat your food, wear clothes you bought, and wait until you decide what I am allowed to do?"
"That is not what I meant."
"That is always what you mean, Joseph. You decide. You command. You pull me back when I want to leave, then push me away when I get too close."
Joseph took a step toward her. "Then tell me how to keep you."
Christine's breath caught.
He looked directly into her eyes. "Tell me what I have to do so you won't go back."
For a moment, Christine could not speak.
Joseph's voice became rougher. "I don't want you in front of cameras where men can look at you like they have the right to imagine touching you."
Her eyes widened. "So that is what this is? Jealousy?"
"Yes."
The honesty stunned her.
Joseph stepped closer. "I am jealous of strangers who look at your photos. I am jealous of Charlie because he knows the life you built without me. I am jealous of Jolo because you trust him more than you trust me."
Christine's heart pounded.
Joseph stopped in front of her. His eyes were dark, intense, and unguarded.
"And I hate myself because I know I deserve none of your trust."
Christine looked away, but he continued.
"I believed lies about you. I punished you for things you never did. I told myself you were the kind of woman my mother said you were, because it was easier than admitting that I wanted you even then."
Her lips trembled.
"Joseph, stop."
"No," he said quietly. "I have stopped too many times. I have swallowed too many words. I have let you walk away once, and I will regret that for the rest of my life."
Christine stood frozen.
Joseph lowered his voice.
"I love you, Christine."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I love you even if you hate me," he said. "I love you even if you cannot forgive me yet. I love you regardless of what kind of woman you think you are. Even if everything my mother said about you were true, I would still choose you."
Christine shook her head. "You don't know what you are saying."
"I do."
"No, you don't." Her voice broke. "You say that now because you feel guilty."
Joseph reached for her hand, but he stopped before touching her. "Then let me prove it."
Christine stared at his hand.
"Stay," he said. "Go back to modeling if that is what you want. I won't stop you. But stay where I can see you. Stay where Claire can hold you. Stay where I can spend every day making up for every year I hurt you."
A tear fell down Christine's cheek.
Joseph gently wiped it away with his thumb.
She should have stepped back.
She didn't.
His touch was warm. Careful. Almost reverent.
Christine closed her eyes for one dangerous second.
And Joseph whispered, "Don't leave me again."