Page 69 of The Rise of Saint (The Sins of Saint 1)

“They’ve given no indication that they do.”

“Is Katarina here?”

Mario shook his head, and my heart all but jumped out of my chest. I placed a hand on Saint’s elbow. “My mother?” I whispered, and Saint finally turned my way.

He nodded, his eyes softer than before.

After Saint had told me the real reason my parents gave me up, I had no desire to know their names or anything about them. To me, they were two people who threw away their firstborn child because of some stupid deal my great-grandfather made with the Russos. I had been denied a true family because of something that, in my opinion, held no merit in this day and age. Even if a contract had been signed in blood, there was no court in the world that would rule such a deal binding.

“Okay.” Saint let go of my hand and brushed a palm down his face. “Do not say a word about it. Not unless they do. There has to be a reason Katarina hasn’t revealed it yet. Besides, it won’t change anything today. Raphael’s inheritance remains the same.” Saint glanced at me. “And so does Mila’s.”

What was going on? Something wasn’t right.

“Come on.” He clutched my hand again. “Let’s get this over with.”

I swallowed, my mouth dry and every muscle tight like a rubber band. I knew for weeks that this day would come. The day when I had to do what he had intended for me since the moment this all started. This was it. I might have signed our marriage documents as Milana Katarina Torres, but today I would finally become her.

James opened the door, and my heels stepped from marble floors to plush carpet as I entered the boardroom at Saint’s side. I didn’t look up. I couldn’t. I was afraid of what I’d see—of what they would see once Saint revealed who I was.

Saint squeezed my hand lightly, a subtle way of reassurance, a silent way of saying,‘Be a Russo wife.’

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

“Marcello, what are you doing here?” I heard the unfamiliar voice as I kept my head turned down.

“This is a shareholders’ meeting, is it not? And since I’m a shareholder, I’d think my presence is required. Oh, and I’d also like to introduce you to someone.” Saint clutched my hand tightly. “Allow me to introduce you to my wife.” He paused for dramatic effect, and my pulse went completely apeshit. “Meet Milana Katarina…Torres.”

At that moment, I looked up from underneath the brim of my hat and straight into the eyes of four men who stared at me as if they had seen a ghost. The older man who sat at the end of the table had his unblinking gaze locked on my face as if he was convinced I’d vanish at any moment.

“What in the name of Christ is this?” His voice made me shudder, and I inched closer to Saint as chills slithered across my skin.

Saint stood unmoved. “You heard me. She’s my wife, and she also happens to be the Torres girl we all thought was dead.”

Shocked I looked at the man Saint had addressed as his father. He had the same heavy presence Saint had, and it reached for me across the room. Threatening. Deadly. Bone-chilling. A thick gold chain peeked from underneath the unbuttoned collar of his light blue shirt. With a sharp widow’s peak, salt and pepper hair, it was only his crystal blue eyes that resembled Saint’s. If I hadn’t stared into almost those exact blue eyes so many times, I never would have guessed they were father and son.

The man stood from his seat, dark brows furrowed and lips pulled in a snarl. “What is going on here?”

Saint acted aloof, calm. “This is a shareholder’s meeting. And since I own thirty-nine percent, I think I have a right to be here.” He shrugged. “I just figured it was the perfect timing to introduce my father to my new wife.”

Scorn dripped from his words, and it sent chills down my spine. I had been on the receiving end of Saint’s anger, but I had never heard such intense hatred in his voice before now.

A younger man stood—green eyes, dark hair neatly cut at the sides, longer curls left on the top. There was something familiar about him, his face, his expression. And the longer I looked at him, the more I begun to realize who he was. “Raphael?”

“I don’t know who you are or what the hell you think you are doing, but if this is some kind of joke, it is not funny.” His disbelief was amplified with the anger in his voice, and I kept inching closer to Saint.

“I can assure you it is no fucking joke.” Saint glanced at Mario and back at Raphael. “My lawyer has all the proof you need to settle any doubt you might have of her identity. But honestly, Raphael, can you not see the resemblance? It’s uncanny. I’m sure if you grow your hair, you’d easily pass for a Torres girl.” His grin complimented his sarcasm.

Raphael’s gaze shifted from Saint and settled on me, his face screwed up with obvious confusion.

“Milana? How is this…how is this possible?”

“It’s a—”

“Something we can discuss later,” Saint interrupted and shot me a warning glare, reminding me we weren’t there for a family reunion. But Raphael rushed closer, almost a head taller than I was.

“You…Is this really you?”

Tears threatened to break through my act, to tear away the brave face I had promised myself I would keep up. For years, I imagined a day like this—the day I’d meet someone from my real family, reunite with the family I truly belonged with. Night after night, I wondered if I had a sister or a brother, and whether they had been given up at birth too. It had crossed my mind so many times that maybe, if I had a sibling somewhere in the world, they were going through the exact same hell as I was. Cruel foster parents, locked closets, and endless nights of wishing for a better life. For the unconditional love of family. And now I finally stared into the eyes of the brother I never knew I had, a sibling I dreamed about playing with as a child.

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