Page 61 of Secret Bratva Twins

The wordminesends a shiver down my spine, equal parts infuriating and undeniable. I want to fight him, to push him away, but the reality of the situation is clear. Without him, I’ll lose everything. The Vinci Group will crumble, and I’ll have nothing left but the ashes of my family’s legacy.

I exhale sharply, meeting his gaze. “Fine,” I say, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. “I won’t thank you for this.”

He smirks again, his hand brushing lightly against my arm. “I don’t need your thanks,dusha moya.Just your trust.”

I pull away from his touch, glaring at him. “Don’t push it.”

His smirk widens, but he says nothing more. He knows he’s won, and the realization burns more than I care to admit.

Serge lingers near the door, his sharp eyes fixed on me as though he’s waiting for something. I don’t know what he expects—gratitude, maybe, or some sign that I’m crumbling under the weight of Lorenzo’s mistakes. He’ll be waiting a long time.

I sigh, breaking the silence. “Lorenzo’s funeral is in two days. I’ll need to attend.”

He nods, stepping closer again, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Of course. Where is it?”

“Naples,” I reply, looking down at the reports still strewn across the desk. The thought of returning to my family’s home feels heavy, like a burden I don’t want to carry. “It’ll be formal, and I’ll be expected to make an appearance as… well, as his only remaining family.”

His gaze sharpens at my words. “How are you really coping with all of this?”

I glance up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “Coping?” I repeat, a bitter laugh escaping before I can stop it. “I’m not mourning Lorenzo, if that’s what you mean. I’mmore worried about the business he left behind—the disaster he created.”

His expression doesn’t change, but there’s something softer in his eyes now, as though he sees more than I want him to.

“I can’t afford to fall apart,” I continue, my voice steady despite the storm in my chest. “Lorenzo and I weren’t close. He didn’t care about me, and I didn’t care about him. The only thing I’ll mourn is the mess he made and the people who’ll suffer because of it.”

Serge watches me for a long moment before speaking, his voice quieter. “The twins, are you taking them with you?”

I shake my head firmly. “No. They never met him. He wasn’t their family, not in any way that matters. They don’t need to be dragged into this.”

His lips curve into a faint smirk, though there’s no humor in it. “Practical, as always.”

“I don’t have the luxury of sentimentality,” I reply, straightening in my seat. “Not anymore.”

He moves closer, his hand resting lightly on the back of the chair. “You’re stronger than you think, Chiara,” he says, his tone low but deliberate. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

I glance up at him, my brows furrowing. “I’m not alone?” I scoff. “Because you’re here, right, offering help?”

His smirk deepens, though his eyes remain serious. “Exactly. You accepted it, didn’t you?”

I bite back a retort, turning away from him and focusing on the reports again. “I’ll handle Lorenzo’s funeral and deal with his legacy. Just make sure your part of the deal holds up.”

“It will,” he says, his voice firm. “You can count on that.”

His words linger in the air as he turns and leaves the room, the weight of his presence replaced by the silence that follows. I exhale slowly, knowing that the hardest part is yet to come.

Chapter Twenty-Three - Serge

The house is quiet when I finally head upstairs. It’s late, the kind of late where the world feels still, as if everyone but me has already surrendered to sleep. I push the door to my room open, expecting darkness and solitude, but I’m greeted by a warm, unexpected sight.

Chiara is sitting on the bed, her back against the headboard, with Leo curled up in her lap and Alyssa snuggled beside her. A book is open in her hands, her soft voice filling the room as she reads aloud. She’s so absorbed in the story that she doesn’t notice me at first. The children hang on her every word, their small faces glowing in the soft light of the bedside lamp.

It’s a domestic scene that feels completely out of place in my world of sharp edges and constant battles. Yet, for reasons I can’t explain, it stops me in my tracks.

Alyssa notices me first. Her face lights up, and she bounces slightly in her spot. “Papa!” she exclaims, her voice a hushed but excited whisper.

Chiara’s gaze flicks up to meet mine, startled at first, but her expression softens. “You’re back,” she says, her voice quiet but steady.

“Yes,” I reply, stepping further into the room. “I didn’t realize I’d find company here.”

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