The room feels too big the moment I step inside. The chandelier casts pale light that makes everything look colder. The air feels heavy, like the walls know something I don't.
Alessio stands beside me, hands in his pockets, posture calm in a way that makes my stomach twist harder. Like he has been through this exact moment before.
Then I see the man waiting in the center of the room.
I do not know him.
But I feel his importance like pressure behind my ribs.
His suit is sharp. His stance controlled. His silver hair perfectly in place. His eyes track me with slow, deliberate interest.
I hesitate without meaning to.
The man speaks.
"Come here."
His voice is low and even. Not loud, but somehow louder than the room.
My legs move before I am ready. Each step feels thin and unsteady. Alessio stays close enough to follow the moment I collapse, but far enough that I know he will not help unless I fall.
I stop in front of the stranger.
He studies my face with a calm intensity that makes my heart pound.
"You are Diana Romano."
I swallow and nod. "Yes."
He nods once in return. "I am Giovanni Bianchi."
My breath stutters.
That name.
Fear spreads through my chest so fast I feel dizzy.
Giovanni watches it all without blinking.
"You look younger than I expected," he says. "Too young to carry someone else's sins."
"I do not know what you mean," I whisper.
"You will."
He steps closer. I tense so sharply my fingers tremble. Giovanni notices and continues anyway.
"Your father owes my family a great deal. Money. Loyalty. Information he stole. He ran from responsibilities men like him never run from."
My pulse hammers.
"If he owes you something, then talk to him. Not me."
Giovanni tilts his head slightly. "He hid behind you. That makes you part of his debt."
My chest tightens so fast I lose air.
"You cannot keep me here," I say, my voice rising. "My father will call the police when he notices I am gone."
Alessio lets out a quiet breath that sounds almost like amusement.
Giovanni's response is calm. Too calm.
"He will not call anyone."
"That is not true."
Giovanni steps closer. I take a shaky step back, but he stops before he reaches me.
"If your father had any intention of protecting you, you would not be standing in my house."
A small sound escapes me. I bite it back, embarrassed and terrified.
Giovanni straightens. "From today onward, you are under my custody until his debts are repaid."
Custody.
The word hits hard. Too hard.
"I did nothing wrong," I whisper.
Giovanni sighs like he is already tired of the conversation. "If you refuse to behave, you will serve this household until your father understands his place."
"Serve?" My voice cracks. "Serve how?"
He does not answer.
He does not need to.
Behind him, Alessio speaks.
"You are scaring her."
Giovanni's jaw tightens. Alessio's expression stays neutral, but his tone shifts to something dry.
"She fainted yesterday." He pauses. "Might faint again. At this point we need carpets."
I turn toward him, heat rising to my face. "I am not fainting again."
He lifts one eyebrow. "You say that like you have a good track record."
Despite everything, my stomach flips in something that is not exactly fear.
Giovanni waves a hand toward the guards. "Take her out. I am done."
A guard steps forward, but Alessio moves first. He places himself between us with the ease of someone who is used to deciding who gets close.
"I will take her."
Giovanni studies him for a beat, then nods once.
Alessio gestures for me to follow. "Come on."
The moment we step into the hall, I breathe again. My shoulders sag, but my legs keep moving.
We walk in silence. My heartbeat is louder than our steps.
Alessio's eyes shift toward me.
"You handled that better than I thought."
I blink. "Better?"
"You did not cry."
"I am trying not to cry."
He nods once. "Trying counts."
We reach another wing of the estate. The tension shifts in the air. Softer lighting. Warm smells from a kitchen nearby. A strange contrast to everything behind us.
Alessio stops at a doorway.
"In here."
I step inside.
A woman sits at a round table. Soft dark hair streaked with silver. Warm eyes. Kind posture. She stands when she sees me, and something in my chest breaks from the sudden gentleness.
"You must be Diana." Her voice is warm in a way that feels like home. "Come here, dear."
I walk toward her slowly. She takes my hand with both of hers and I nearly crumble.
"You look frightened," she says. "Sit with me."
I sit. She serves me herself. A plate. A glass of water. A napkin placed gently beside my wrist.
The softness hits too hard. Tears gather before I can stop them.
"I want to go home," I whisper. "Please. I do not belong here. Please help me."
Her face softens with real sympathy. She reaches across the table and holds my trembling hand.
"Oh, sweetheart."
My voice breaks. "Please. I do not want to be part of any of this."
She squeezes my fingers.
"I wish I could send you home," she says. "But I cannot."
My breath cracks in my chest.
"But," she adds quietly, "I can give you the truth you were never told."
I freeze.
She hesitates. Her eyes soften with something that looks like sorrow.
"Your father did not move you to New York to protect his family. He moved to hide."
My pulse stumbles.
"Hide from what?" I whisper.
Her hand tightens around mine.
"Hide from what he did to Victor."
I stare at her, unable to breathe or move.
She hesitates one more moment, like the next words are heavy.
Then she says them.
"Your father played a part in Victor's death."
The world stops.
The air leaves my lungs.
And I do not know if I will ever get it back.