Page 11 of Vows Made in Silence
“No right?” His voice cracks like thunder. “That’s my blood. My son. And you kept him from me.”
I step back, the air between us vibrating with fury. “I did what I had to do to keep him safe. From you. From your father.”
His jaw flexes. “My father is dead.”
“And his empire isn’t,” I snap.
He lowers the photo slowly, but his eyes stay on mine, dark and deadly. “He’s mine, Giuliana.”
“You should’ve told me. Now I’m done asking.”
—
He steps closer like he’s stalking prey rather than confronting the woman he once vowed to protect. My instincts scream to run—but I don’t move.
The fury in his eyes is real, but beneath it… something else stirs. Hurt. Betrayal.
“You don’t understand,” I whisper. “I left because I had no choice.”
He shakes his head. “You made me believe you didn’t want me. That what we had meant nothing. And now I find out it was all a fucking lie?”
“I didn’t lie.”
His laugh is sharp, bitter. “Spoken like a woman who’s been playing survival games too long.”
I lift my chin. “You don’t get to judge the choices I made when you were raised by the man who forced me to make them.”
That lands. I see it in the clench of his jaw, the flicker in his eyes.
He steps in until there’s barely an inch between us, his voice a whisper over my skin. “Then tell me the truth now. All of it. Or I start digging until I find it.”
—
“Back off,” I hiss, shoving him in the chest. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink. That’s the thing about Luca—he never needed muscle. He is all muscle.
“You want the truth?” I snap, chest heaving.
I shake my head, pacing now, heart racing. “Your father came to my home and in front of my family he told all of us what wasgoing to happen next. What he’d do to my parents and to me if I continued seeing you*.*”
Luca flinches—just once. But I see it. Feel it.
“I was eighteen, Luca.” “And I believed him. He had photos. Records. Threats. He said if I didn’t disappear, they’d find me in pieces.”
He runs a hand down his face. I think it’s the first time he realizes I was his casualty.
“I would’ve protected you,”
“No,” I reply, fierce and gutted. “You would’ve tried. And they would’ve made you watch them bury me.”
I stand frozen in the gallery’s dim light, Luca’s gaze locked on mine—sharp, unrelenting.
It’s been ten years.
But here he is. Flesh and blood.
And my traitorous heart beats out a rhythm I can’t control.
I grip the edges of my coat tighter, knuckles white against black wool. I force myself to look at him.
