Page 53 of Beautiful Vows

“I’m your sister. I'm Lia. Remember?” I grip her hand tighter, as if the physical connection could somehow bridge the gap in her memory. “Do you remember that time we snuck out to the rooftop garden at the hotel in Brisbane? You wanted to see the stars without the city lights. We stayed up all night, and you taught me about the constellations.”

Her eyes meet mine, filled with complete confusion.

Tears roll down my cheeks, hot and relentless. “Or when you used to sneak into my room because you were convinced monsters lived under your bed?”

“Did they?” she murmurs.

“You’re not helping, Lia,” my stepmother hisses.

I shoot her a ‘fuck you’ look and turn back to Amara.

“No, you just never enjoyed sleeping alone.” I smile, stroking her cheek. Her eyes remain clouded as she stares at me. And I see nothing but confusion and distress. “And we liked to talk.”

She smiles, but it’s sad. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I want to remember. I really do.”

“But you don’t?” I swallow back a sob. “I'm your eldest sister. And Milly is coming soon. You have two sisters who love you more than anything in the world.” My strength crumbles as a pathetic sob escapes my lips.

“You seem nice. I want to remember.”

“You will remember.” Something inside me shatters as my promise to our mother—to keep my sisters safe—now feels like a mountain on my shoulders.

I’ve failed my mother.

I've failed Amara.

I lean forward, gently resting my forehead against hers, mindful of her injuries. Our tears mingle on the hospital pillow. “It’s okay,” I whisper, though it’s anything but. “You’re here. You’re alive. That’s what matters. The rest... the rest will come back.”

My words are as much for my comfort as for hers. The ache in my heart deepens as I realize how my sister, so close in proximity, is right now, so distant in her current state of mine. I just hope it is temporary.

“What happened?” I ask Cade, trying to hold back my anger. His body is stiff as he perches on a chair beside Amara, hands tightly clenched.

Cade’s eyes, usually bright and determined behind his glasses, now dart restlessly around the room.

The flicker of various machine displays reflects in his lenses, but offers no comfort. It’s clear he’s having his own mental breakdown because up to now there’s been no word about Rafe.

We’ve been waiting for something—anything. A ransom note, a threatening call, even a grisly package. Or for the police department to release him, though they claim Rafe de Luca is not in any holding cell. Nobody knows, and the wait is agony.

He shakes his head, the motion stiff and heavy. “I didn’t know she was in the club.” He sighs.

In the background, a nurse quietly attends to Amara’s IV, checking on the flow of fluids.

“You normally would,” I accuse, my tone harsher than intended.

“I know.” Cade’s admission is quiet, almost swallowed by the constant hum of medical equipment. The ceiling lights flicker momentarily, casting a brief shadow across his anguished face. “But the police raid was so fast and the next thing I knew, I was checking the screens. It was crazy in the club. Screens froze, some blacked out. Then when I looked outside I saw a girl was running down the road, but I didn't know who she was. Rafe was missing, and I was panicking.” He grips his phone as he checks it again. “Where the fuck is Rafe?”

His last words are pure fear, so I don’t press him on Amara. He’s already distressed, his usual composed facade crumbling under the strain.

The absence of information about Rafe hovers over us. He might not be deep inside the mafia like Dante or the Conti brothers are, but he’s still the mafia. And each hour we don’t hear from him is more perilous than the last.

Across the room, Dominic’s composure finally shatters. His face, usually an impenetrable mask, now contorts with fury. He stands abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor, causing everyone to stare.

He pulls out his phone, his jaw tics with anger. His fingers stab at the screen, and when he speaks, his voice is low, dangerous—a tone I’ve heard him use only a few times.

“This is Dominic de Luca. Put me through to the Chief … Now!” he commands. While he waits, his gaze falls on Amara, taking in her battered form, her confused eyes. His jaw tightens, the vein in his neck twitches beneath the skin.

When the call connects, his words come out in a controlled yet seething torrent. “Your incompetent staff nearly killed my stepdaughter. And once I have confirmation of the person who owns the plates to the car, there will be consequences.” He listens for a moment. “No, you listen. You work for me. The Club is out of bounds. That was the deal. And now tell me where the fuck my son is?” He grunts under his breath as he looks at Cade and then Dante, who is surprisingly quiet. “You’ve got an hour. Find out where Rafe de Luca is!”

He listens for a moment, his expression darkening. “Excuses! That’s all that you offer me? This is how you repay me?”

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