Page 84 of Forbidden Vengeance

My daughter kicks hard, as if adding her vote to this dangerous gamble. Mario’s hand twitches toward my belly before dropping away—another moment of wanting to connect but holding back.

Some battles, I realize, are fought with guns and blood. Others with computers and bank accounts.

But the hardest ones? Those are fought with truth and trust and the hope that love might be stronger than betrayal.

My hand drifts to my stomach as the baby kicks again. These moments still catch me off guard—the fierce protectiveness that floods through me. Everything I do now isn’t just about survival or revenge—it’s about creating a future where my daughter won’t have to play these deadly games.

“Antonio will be watching every move we make,” Mario says, finally meeting my eyes in the mirror. “If this is a trap…”

“Antonio is old school.” I turn to face him fully. “He may hate you, but he respects the old traditions even more than Matteo does. For twenty-four hours, we’ll be untouchable under his protection.”

The weight of Bella’s message seems to fill the room:Come home.The words make my eyes water because that’s what the DeLuca mansion had been, before everything. Before Mario, before Anthony, before I started playing games with people’s lives.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Mario asks softly, reading something in my expression that I can’t quite hide.

I hesitate, then pull out my phone, showing him another part of Bella’s message I hadn’t shared:After what you did at the hospital—making sure the right doctors were there, protecting the twins even after everything…maybe it’s time we both stopped letting the men in our lives dictate who we can trust.

“She was my best friend,” I say quietly, the words tasting like regret. “Before the games, before the schemes…she was the only person who saw me as more than just a party planner or someone to be used. And I betrayed that trust completely.”

The baby kicks again, as if sensing my turmoil. I remember Bianca’s words in the hospital—how even after everything, Bella’s first instinct was to ask for me. To trust me one last time.

Maybe it’s time to earn that trust back.

“And now?” Mario raises a dark eyebrow.

“Now I’m eight months pregnant, hiding in safe houses, watching my daughter’s future get decided by other people’s wars. Maybe it’s time to try building bridges instead of burning them. The DeLucas might hate you, but they understand choosing love over family loyalty better than anyone.”

Mario moves closer, his reflection joining mine in the mirror. “You really think they’ll understand? After what I did to Bianca?”

“Matteo chose Bianca,” I remind him. “Chose love over the DeLuca name. And Bella…” I sigh. “Bella chose Matteo even after learning what he’d done to Sophia. To countless others. She understands better than anyone how love forces us to make impossible choices.”

The baby kicks again, harder this time, making me wince. Mario’s hand comes up automatically to steady me, and I notice he doesn’t pull away from my bump as quickly as usual. That slight hesitation becoming less pronounced each time.

“Still,” he says, voice rough. “Walking into the DeLuca compound…”

“Is exactly what Anthony would never expect.” I check my reflection one final time. “Besides, I have it on good authority that he’s got men watching every restaurant and hotel where Bella and I used to meet. He’d never believe we’d risk going there.”

“And if itisa trap?” Mario repeats.

“Then we’ll handle it like we handle everything else.” I turn to face him fully. “Together.”

His answering smile holds equal parts pride and concern as he grasps my hands, his callused thumbs rubbing over my knuckles. “Just promise me something, little planner.”

“What’s that?”

“If anything feels wrong—anything at all—we leave. Immediately. No games, no clever plans. Just getting you both out safely.”

The use of “both” doesn’t escape my notice. I reach up to cup his face, seeing all his carefully hidden fears in his eyes. “I promise.”

27

MARIO

Antonio meets us at the DeLuca compound gates himself—a deliberate choice that doesn’t escape my notice. His presence is both warning and reassurance: for twenty-four hours, sanctuary will be honored, but one wrong move and Matteo’s most loyal soldier will remind me exactly why people still fear the DeLuca name.

“You’ll both be searched,” Antonio says without preamble. His eyes linger on Elena’s pregnant belly before meeting my gaze with barely concealed hostility. The look says everything—he hasn’t forgotten how I held Bianca at gunpoint, how I tried to destroy the family he’s protected for over two decades. “Even with sanctuary granted, we’re not stupid.”

The security sweep is thorough but professional. They let Elena keep the small gun in her thigh holster—another calculated message about trust and limits. I catch Antonio’s slight nod of approval at our acceptance of the procedure. Some traditions still matter, even between enemies. Even after everything.

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