Serendipity

Chapter 7

Raffaele

One thing I have to admit, Elodie's devotion to her lies is admirable. I was sure she'd reveal something since these pictures show I'm onto her bullshit but nope, nothing. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she's never seen those people before.

Tough luck that I do know better. There were pictures of them, all of them together, in Andre's house. His real one, that is

"Oh please, you can't talk yourself out of knowing them. I know you do. Or do you want me to show you proof of that as well? Stop stalling for time, you're backed up into a corner. Tell me what I need to know instead of making things worse for yourself. Where is it hidden, Elodie?" I prompt.

"I swear, I don't know! Please, I want to go home!" she whines, starting to cry yet again. But I'm getting really fucking sick of her tears.

Allowing myself another display of violence, shove at the bars of her cell, making some noise to startle her momentarily. Then, because I need the pain to spit out my next words, I hit one of the bars. The pain is instant, like white, hot needles digging into my knuckles at the same time.

I don't flinch or make a noise, simply clench my teeth and direct my fury at the woman behind the bars. "Your siblings seem really cute. Twins, are they? It would truly be a shame if something happened to them," I say, a bitter taste coating my tongue as I speak.

But this is what my father taught me, threatening someone with the people they care about most. He said only weak people break when you threaten their own lives. "We don't do business with cowards like that. Now, the ones that stay strong when it comes to their wives, mothers, or children. Those are the ones you really need to look out for," he'd said.

I hate it. Hate proving people's assumptions that I'm a monster right by bringing innocents into the play but I'm tired and so fucking done with losing sleep and nerves over Elodie's father's betrayal.

Directing my attention back to the girl, I take note of the fear in her wide eyes. "You can't hurt them! They have nothing to do with this! No idea what the hell I tapped into here but I'm just looking for my father! Please, let me go. I'll never speak of what happened here!" she begs desperately.

She's convincing in what she does, I must admit. I'm tempted to believe she's innocent too. That she really can't help me and came here looking for her old man. But something's keeping me from simply releasing her. After all, I could just burn her house down and be done with it.

But it's risky and some of the documents taken from me are irreplaceable. No, screw remorse. It's just another virtue my father disapproved of. Elodie is my best bet to get what I want so until I'm not completely sure she can't be of aid, I'll keep this up.

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For the next few days, my prisoner and I kept playing that game and I had the pleasure of watching her grow more agitated with each visit. There were fewer tears though she pretended not to know all the same.

It's day four when I finally bring out the big guns. I would've done it sooner but my editors wanted time to fake the pictures. Yet, when they'd been delivered to me early this morning, I found myself stalling, not sure if I wanted to go there yet.

My encounters with little Miss Chevalier have become a bit of a highlight, as much as I'd like to deny it. I like seeing the defiance shining in those dark eyes, something I get to see more and more with each visit. I feel like I'm getting closer to seeing the girl from the highlights and further away from the school's newspaper.

I think there's a little deviant hidden beneath the surface and some twisted part of me wants to reach it. This excites me.

But that's not important. I'm getting distracted and it's time to stop the games.

Grabbing what I need, I push my chair back to get to my feet, the damn thing making a noise so loud I wince. Before I even open my eyes again, a cry pierces the air and my shoulders slump.

Damn fucking me.

"Hey, buddy! I'm so sorry I woke you. So sorry, little man. Ti prego, Matteo, please don't cry," I beg my nephew as I rush over to where he's lying in his crib. I pick him up and cradle his small body against my chest, shushing him softly as I pat his tiny back.

(I'm begging you, Matteo)

No matter how many times I do this, I'll never get over how small and fragile and squishy he is. I mean, that's supposed to be normal at the ripe age of fifteen months from all that I've read, and trust me, I've read a lot.

Breathing in deeply in relief when he quiets and falls back asleep in my arms, I let myself hold him for a few extra moments to simply soak up the warm feeling in my chest. It scares me sometimes how much the little guy means to me. It feels almost suffocating. Like when I hold him, he can't possibly be close enough and all I want to do is squeeze him and keep him there forever.

Lying him back down in his crib, I take in his relaxed features. So far, not much of my sister is shining through but I startle every time he opens his eyes. They're the very same shade as my sister's.

It used to be painful as fuck to look at them but slowly, I'm learning to enjoy seeing her in him. I know she'd love it.

With a deep breath, I tear my gaze away from him, turn on my heels and force myself to head to the elevator.

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Honestly, I usually don't like kids, especially in books but writing this was actually a lot of fun.

Dw, the story won't evolve around the little guy🖐🏻

Anyways, don't be shy to lmk what u think and have a great day<3