Page 7 of Silent Night With Adrian

“What is it?” I snap.

“Have you reconsidered moving back?”

“No, Dante. I’m safer in New York.”

He stares, his face unreadable. “Safety is just an illusion. They already killed Marco,” he says, the words cold, final. “You’re part of this, like it or not.”

I glance away, unwilling to let him see how deeply that stings. “I’m going back to school after Christmas,” I say firmly, turning away before he can argue.

As I get in my car to drive back to the Vitale mansion for Christmas dinner, a hollow ache settles in my chest. This isn’t what I want. Not the power, not the bloodshed. Just one more holiday, I tell myself, gripping the wheel tight. One more holiday, get my degree, and then I’m gone.

***

The Vitale mansion feels colder this Christmas without Marco, the absence heavy between me and Dante as we sit across from each other. The dining room is pristine, decorated beautifully to Dante’s standards, but there’s no warmth. Our kitchen staff havecreated a savory Christmas meal for us but my stomach is tied in knots.

I fiddle with the sleeves of my hoodie that I threw on over the red dress. I regret not taking off the hated red dress when pulling on my hoodie and yoga pants. It’s a reminder of how this day started. Dante barely glances my way as he carves the roast.

I finally break the silence. “Do you ever think about Marco?”

Dante’s jaw clenches slightly. He doesn’t look up. “We all knew the risks.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

Dante sighs, setting the carving knife down with a quiet clink. “Marco made his choices, Mia. Like you’re making yours. We all have a role to play in this family, and if you’re not up for it…” He lets the threat hang.

“He was our brother,” I murmur, not sure if I’m trying to convince him or myself.

Dante sets down his knife, sighing. “Everyone’s someone’s brother, Mia. This is the life we chose—or the life that chose us. You, me, Marco…we’re all bound to it.”

I want to argue, to say that maybe Marco never had a choice. That none of us really do. But there’s no use. Dante’s loyalty to the family business runs too deep, and the brother I used to know is buried somewhere beneath layers of power and vengeance.

Silence falls again, broken only by the clinking of dishes as he serves us both and we dig into our meal.

When we finish our dinner, he pushes a small package across the table to her. “Here,” he says, almost begrudgingly. “Merry Christmas.”

I eye the box before slowly unwrapping it to reveal a silver charm bracelet. It’s beautiful, elegant. But as I lift it out, I notice the charms—each one an emblem of the family’s business, froma tiny gun to a diamond symbolizing their wealth. The weight of it feels oppressive, a reminder of everything I’m trying to escape.

Dante’s lips tighten, watching my reaction. “It suits you. Strong. Resilient.”

“Thank you. I have something for you, too.”

I reach into my bag and pull out a framed photo of us as kids, laughing and carefree, long before our lives were shadowed by our father’s legacy.

Dante barely glances at it. “I don’t have time for nostalgia, Mia.”

Disappointment tightens my throat.

After dessert, he goes back to work, barely acknowledging me as I leave. I’m relieved to get away to head back to my Airbnb. I could have stayed in the Vitale mansion, but I wanted to to have my own space away from Dante and the activities that surround him.

I get in my car and start driving. But instead of taking the main route, I take the long way around, needing the drive to clear my head from everything I’ve endured today. My mind is swirling with images of the last few weeks that leave me sad and troubled.

The snow is coming down harder now, big flakes swirling in the headlights. As I navigate the winding, empty roads, I turn on the radio, hoping for Christmas music to drown out the silence.

A weather alert cuts into the music. “A severe blizzard warning is in effect for Winter Haven and surrounding areas. Residents are advised to avoid travel as snowfall could reach up to three feet by tomorrow morning.”

I exhale slowly, my fingers tightening around the wheel. I’ll make it to the Airbnb in a few minutes. Just a little longer. But as I round a darkened corner, headlights appear in my rearview mirror, closing the gap too quickly.

My stomach drops. The car’s following close, too close to be a coincidence. I take a left turn, then another, but it sticks behind me, matching every move.

---