Page 161 of Brutal Crown
Lia laughs. “Lucia says the same thing whenever she sees me. But since you live under the same roof, I can only imagine how often she gushes about your beauty.”
Silvia laughs. I can count the number of times she laughed when she was with me.
Arranged marriages are a bitch.
“Francesco,” she finally acknowledges me with a small smile and nod.
“Silvia,” I politely air-kiss the back of her palm. “You look beautiful as always.”
Antonio doesn’t acknowledge either of us. He only watches her. Unmoving. Unwavering. Like his entire being is tethered to hers.
As they walk off, I lean toward Lia. “You see it, don’t you?”
“I’ve always seen it,” she laughs at me. “You’re late to the party.”
As we walk back to our seats, I spot my father and Lucia locked in what seems like an argument. They’re hidden near the fountain wall, their voices low and sharp. What could they possibly be arguing about? Though I wouldn’t put anything past Lucia. She’s a handful.
We walk past Elio at the bar, balancing a champagne flute in one hand and flirting with two girls from the Bellini family. I spot Marco by the terrace doors. He’s alone now, half-shadowed with a drink in his hand, and eyes unfocused.
For a second, I think about walking past him. Pretending the past never happened. But that’s not how this ends. Our eyes meet but he doesn’t smile. Just stares.
I walk up to him, stopping a few feet away. “You ever think about what could’ve been?”
He laughs just once, but it’s dry and bitter. “You mean if she picked me? Or if I hadn’t tried to burn the world down with her inside it?”
His eyes still on the horizon, he continues, “I loved her. Not in the way you did. Maybe not in a way she needed. But I loved her.”
I nod once. “I know.”
A silence stretches. This one doesn’t hurt. It justis.
“You’re going to be a father,” he says. “Make sure they never forget what it cost to get here.”
“I won’t,” I promise.
I walk away before either of us can ruin the moment, letting the weight of his words settle as I move through the crowd. The hum of conversation and the soft glow of candlelight wrap around me. That’s when I catch sight of Lorenzo, laughing with Giulia and Dario.
The Moretti parents aren’t here yet—they sent word they’ll arrive later—but my heart softens at the scene before me.
This… this is what I fought for.
I think of Lia’s father then, wishing for things to have turned out differently.
Everyone remembers how he died. But they don’t know the whole truth. Not like I do.
He made a choice. The kind of choice no one talks about in this world—because it’s not written in law or legacy. It’s written in blood. In sacrifice.
He knew what the Society was becoming. Knew Lia wouldn’t survive it because he was already in too deep, unless someone paid the price first. Of course, he couldn’t have predicted her pregnancy, but he wanted to make sure our evil didn’t sink its claws into his offspring like our fathers before us. So he made himself the opening act to a tragedy he hoped would end in revolution.
He let himself fall so she could rise.
And now, standing here, I understand what he did. I understand what I have to do next. I have a duty not just to protect her. Or just to protect our child. But to make sure the world they’re born into doesn’t need blood to justify love.
I raise my glass and step onto the raised platform in front of the hall. “To new beginnings,” I say, my loud voice traveling across the room.
Everyone lifts their glasses.
“To freedom,” someone adds.
