Page 106 of The Billionaire's Pact

“What’s wrong?” I called to his back, but he kept running.

The front door was slightly open, and high-pitched wailing came from someone inside. What was going on?

Rocco rushed forward, and I followed him to the source. To my surprise, it was Mrs. Marini. She was on her knees while Mr. Marini held her as she screamed.

Rocco’s sister Siena appeared and grabbed him. “It’s Grandpa. He’s gone.”

My head pounded rapidly as everything went blurry. No. They have it wrong. We just had dinner and laughed together. He was fine….

“Grandpa? Dead? It can’t be.” Rocco’s voice graveled. Siena let out a sob, and he held her tight.

“He passed away in his sleep, son. It was sudden,” Mr. Marini answered as if someone had asked.

I took a step back and then another until I was out of the room. Mr. Marini can’t be gone. A film rolled in my head of that night eight years ago when he’d called me over to use the heat lamps by the bench. I wasn’t sure where I’d go or what to do, but I’d walked over. He hadn’t known me at all, but he had cared. From that moment on, he never left. And I clung to every text, letter, or call because he made me feel like I was his family….

I fell to my knees and tears poured out of my eyes. A sob erupted, and Rocco was there. He held on to me as more tears wracked my body. I cried because no words would ever cover what he’d meant to me. Each tear mourned the emptiness inside my heart.

To Mama, I was a defender. To my grandparents, I was a pawn. But to Mr. Luca Marini, I was his dolce Adelina, and he just loved me, for me. And that made me weep all the more because I doubted anyone would ever love me like that again.

More Marinis arrived at the house to mourn with the family. No one treated me as less, but I wasn’t ready to sit and talk about Grandpa Marini. Instead, I put myself to work, helping the housekeepers put away the food brought over, and checked in with each person to give them whatever they needed, whether it was something to eat, drink, or a quiet place to rest. Mrs. Marini held on to Rocco, who stayed on the couch by her side with his siblings. Night came, and I finally went up the stairs to the room I slept in. To my surprise, Rocco’s father, Nico, was inside when I walked in.

He startled.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Should I move my things so you can sleep in here?” After all, it was their home.

“No…no,” Nico said, rubbing his jaw. “Maybe you can help me. My father-in-law stopped here yesterday, and the housekeepers said he went to this room. I thought maybe he’d left something for us?”

I was puzzled.

He opened his arms. “Can you look around? Does anything appear different or out of place?”

My eyes darted around the room. The only thing different was a copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover. He had left it with other books next to my laptop on the desk. But I knew Mr. Marini. If he left it for me, he wanted it for me alone. That was why I lied. “No, I don’t.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you sure? Take a real look.”

I checked the closets, under the bed, the bookcases, then turned to him, lifting my shoulders. “I’m sorry. I only see my things in here.”

The muscles in his face jumped, and he let out a grunt. “All right. Thanks.”

I frowned. “I’m sorry for your loss. Mr. Marini was a wonderful man.”

Nico stared at me for a few moments, then walked out of the room without a word.

I shut the door, then stared at the back of it, confused. What was that about?

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Odd.

Did Mrs. Belfiore know? I felt so exhausted from the last few hours. Grieved. But the silence seemed off, so in a moment of desperation, I called my grandmother. Her phone went to voicemail, and a strange chill went through me as my insides tumbled. I left a message.

“Luca Marini has passed away. Uhm…I…I haven’t heard from you or Mama. Please let me know if you need anything from me.”

I had no idea what to tell them. We didn’t talk much about anything other than what they wanted me to do. Their silence after the news of Mr. Marini’s passing was also strange. The word must have gotten back to them by now. What’s going on back there?

I waited by my phone for a reply for a while and checked my messages on my computer. Nothing.

The bedroom door opened, and this time, it was Rocco. I went to hug him.

“How are you holding up?” I asked in a gentle tone, holding his waist.

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