Page 43 of Tormented Oath

She fits so perfectly into every broken piece of my world. She makes my sister laugh, and my mother remember, and my cold empire feel like home.

"Stefano?" Ava calls, drawing me from my thoughts. "Angela wants to show me the garden. Will you help her with the chair?"

I move to assist, careful of my sister's IV lines as we navigate toward the French doors. Ava walks ahead, asking Angela about the roses our mother used to tend.

The sunlight catches her profile, and for a moment, I see our future: Ava permanently by my side, our children playing in these gardens, my sister growing stronger, my mother finding her way back to herself. A family restored.

The monster in me purrs at the image. Yes, I'll keep her. Whatever it takes. Whatever masks I have to wear or games I have to play.

CHAPTERELEVEN

Ava

The city lightsblur past the car window as I drift in and out of sleep, still exhausted from this morning's drama. Amazing how quickly your mind can jump to the worst conclusions when you're stressed.

One bout of nausea and I convinced myself I was pregnant. Surely, it’s just classic paranoid overthinking.

Stefano's hand rests on my thigh as he drives, warm and steady. The gesture should make me nervous, should remind me of everything I'm risking, but right now, it just makes me feel...safe.

After spending the day with his family, seeing this other side of him, it's getting harder to maintain a professional distance. For a few hours, I let myself pretend I was part of a real family.

Angela seemed to like me, showing me her art projects and telling me stories about Stefano that made him actually blush. Even his mother, lost in her grief as she is, seemed to focus a bit more.

"Almost home," Stefano murmurs, squeezing my leg gently. "Feeling okay?"

I manage a sleepy nod. The nausea from this morning is mostly gone. All that’s left is a lingering queasiness that I blame entirely on whatever was in that staff meal last night.

Note to self: never eat lukewarm pasta from the club kitchen again, no matter how hungry I am after a shift.

"Maybe I should still take tonight off though," I say, fighting back a yawn. "Just to be safe."

He hums in agreement, and I close my eyes again, letting the motion of the car lull me. I should be planning my next move with the Fioris, should be figuring out how to play this situation to everyone's advantage.

Instead, I find myself thinking about the way Angela's face lit up when she talked about her art therapy, and how Stefano looked at her with such fierce protectiveness.

It’s the same way I look at Tony.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s probably Kira wondering where I am. I'll deal with that later.

Right now, I just want to hold onto this feeling a little longer.

This is a glimpse of what life could be like if I wasn't who I am. But guilt follows me into uneasy dreams, where I run through endless corridors trying to find something I've lost, never quite sure what it is that I'm missing.

* * *

The penthouse bedroom is dark and cool when I wake again. Stefano’s already gone to handle whatever needs his attention tonight.

I curl deeper into his ridiculously expensive sheets, trying to ignore how the room seems to tilt slightly when I move.

Just leftover food poisoning. Nothing more.

I repeat this to myself as I drift in and out of consciousness, too tired to even change out of my clothes from visiting his family. The memory of Angela's smile follows me into half-dreams. She’s so young, so full of life despite everything she's been through. She’s so different from Tony, who wears his suffering like armor.

My phone buzzes again, more insistent this time. Probably the club wondering where I am. Or worse—my Fiori handler wondering why I haven't arranged for a new meet.

"Five more minutes," I mutter into the pillow, sounding exactly like Tony on school mornings. The thought makes me smile, then wince as another wave of queasiness rolls through me.

Definitely should have skipped those leftovers.

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