Page 15 of Silent Night with Massimo

They don't want to taint the Christmas spirit by letting anyone know there is a prisoner down in the cellar.

I hold the pillow over my face. Partly because I want to try and warm my cheeks and partly because I want to block out the last soft remnants of the cheerful music.

I don't want to think about the past anymore. It hurts. It has always hurt – since the day I was forced to leave.

I'm still terrified of what Elio has planned - and who he was talking to.

Over the years, he's been my most consistent and recurring clue. Everything seems to lead back to him over andover again. Elio and Adrian are the two people closest to Massimo. So, it had to be one of them and I just know that it wasn't Adrian.

Every time I uncovered something, it led to Elio – but after overhearing his phone call the other night, everything started to really fall into place in my mind.

He was there the night our baby was born. But not only that. I remember seeing him at the hospital a number of times before that. Over the month, I thought nothing of it at the time - but afterward, I realized there was no reason for him to be there. No reason other than making underhanded deals with shady doctors.

And out of everyone in the family, he's the only one who ever showed animosity toward Massimo when he was crowned the new heir and don. It was a family vote. Elio was certain he would win. But it wasn't even close. Massimo won by a landslide.

Massimo's father was always highly respected, a leader admired for his strength, wisdom, and loyalty. From a young age, it was clear that Massimo inherited much of his father's presence—he commands the room the way his father did, with quiet authority and unwavering resolve. There's a striking resemblance between them, not just in appearance but in their character. Massimo has his father's resilience, the kind of inner strength that has carried him through every trial.

Elio, on the other hand, is nothing like Massimo. He lacks the raw power and determination that define a true leader. While Massimo shoulders responsibility withconfidence, Elio crumbles under pressure, driven by envy and weakness. He doesn't possess an ounce of the strength or resilience that Massimo embodies. Where Massimo stands firm, Elio falters, always living in the shadows, resentful of the respect Massimo earned effortlessly. He has none of the qualities that make Massimo a natural-born don.

If I can just convince Massimo to quietly look into Elio—nothing drastic, just enough to scrape the surface. If he can poke around, dig into a few things, and clear my suspicions, it might be enough. I don't need a massive investigation or to raise alarms, but I know there's something off. I can feel it. If Massimo would just trust me enough to take a closer look, he'd see what I'm seeing—Elio's hiding something. And that something could change everything.

But I don't think he will clear my suspicions. I think that as soon as he starts peeling away the layers of who Elio pretends to be he is going to be shocked to see the truth.

I need him to help me.

As a mother - I will never rest until I find my son.

I will never give up. But on my own – exiled – it is almost impossible.

Even when theycarried his tiny body away, not letting me see his face—not once—I never truly felt he was gone. I never fully accepted that loss. I felt the pain of losing him, but something about it felt wrong—tainted, unreal, like a wound that never quite healed because it was never real to begin with.

The moment I realized he couldn't be dead, everything clicked into place. My instincts were screaming the truth—this wasn't desperation or grief twisting my mind.

It wasn't a delusion.

It was real.

My son is out there, somewhere. He might not know me, might not even know who he really is—but he's alive. And I will do whatever it takes to find him. No matter the cost.

He's the reason I risked coming back here, into the lion's den. I would risk my life again, a thousand times over, if it meant finding him.

Nothing will stop me.

Not Massimo.

Not the dangers that lie ahead.

Because this isn't just about the past anymore. It's about him—my son, my blood—and I won't stop until he's in my arms.

Why can't Massimo see that?

Boots crunch against snow outside the window of my cold cellar lockup.

I climb out of bed to see if I can make out who is walking around in the back garden so late at night.

"Did you speak to him though?" Elio's voice. "No, it's too risky. I can't come out there now. I just need to know if you passed on the message?"

There is a pause, pacing up and down. "You work for the Vitales, not me. Don't put me on the same level as yourself, asshole. You are nothing but a messenger between the keyplayers. All I need to know is if you gave him the message or not?" He snarls angrily. "Fuck. Was that so hard?"

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