Dancing with a stranger

Chapter|23✨

It had been a few months. Everyone was safe. My mother hadn't been heard from, Kian and I had our own place, and Grace and Charlie lived just down the street. My father was doing well, still running the business despite the burns that had taken months to heal. And Aaliyah... she was growing so fast, already showing signs of Kian in every way.

I was in the kitchen, holding Aaliyah and preparing to feed her, when my phone rang. Unknown number.

"Hello?" I answered.

A raspy, distorted voice hissed through the line: "He's finally gone. Now you'll know what it feels like to actually lose someone who cares about you."

I dropped to my knees, hugging Aaliyah tight, panic clawing at my chest. I dialed the number I knew by heart. Grace answered. All I could manage was, "He's gone..." and she hung up.

Within five minutes, she barged through my door with Charlie right behind. Grace swooped Aaliyah into her arms while Charlie embraced me. I cried like I hadn't in months—because Kian had been away for business all week, and something about the lack of his usual morning message had felt... wrong.

I tried calling everyone—my father was tied up in meetings, and Kian's father hadn't reported back. Frantic, I felt the panic rising, but Grace's calm voice cut through. "Maybe it's just to scare you. Kian will be back soon." I nodded, barely believing it myself.

We were talking, trying to steady ourselves, when my phone rang again. This time, it was Kian's father.

"Stella... I'm so sorry. Kian... he's really gone."

The phone slipped from my hand. My mind went blank. Grace hugged me, and Charlie entered with Aaliyah. He wordlessly handed her back to me, joining in a group hug that kept us upright against the wave of grief.

I had to call my father. "I'm sorry, sweet baby girl. I'll have to talk to James," I murmured, my voice cracking. My father and James had put the feud aside, but the world still felt like it was crumbling. We had just regained Aaliyah, had finally found happiness, and now... Kian was gone. Sean had died in the fire, yes, but this felt like losing everything else.

Leaving Liyah with Grace and Charlie, I went to meet James. I needed to know—truly know—what had happened.

When I walked in, James embraced me immediately, his strength a small anchor. Devin, his right-hand man and another father figure to Kian, followed suit. Then a small, petite woman approached.

"Good to see you, James," she said cautiously.

"Carla... what a surprise," James replied.

She was Kian's mother. Alive, in London, and apparently as alive as she was shocked.

"Carla, this is Stella De Santi," James said. "She's Michael De Santi's daughter and the mother of your granddaughter."

Her face went pale. Shock turned to anger. "My granddaughter shouldn't have the blood of the Black Knights," she spat, stalking into the room.

"She has every right," James countered, pouring himself a drink.

I took a seat across from her, my heart hammering. "We can do this civilly, Carla. For Kian. For Aaliyah."

"Civil?" she laughed harshly, swirling her drink. "You think that's possible? Your family... that world that took my son from me. And now you—his lover—are here with his child?"

I tightened my jaw but held steady. "I didn't ask for any of this. I loved Kian. I love his daughter. She's your granddaughter. And if you ever loved Kian, you'll see she deserves more than your hatred."

Her glass slammed onto the table. "Don't lecture me, Stella! You have no idea what it's like to watch your child get tangled in that world!"

James finally spoke, voice calm but firm. "We can't change what happened, Carla. But we can change how we move forward. Kian wanted us to get along—for Aaliyah. He wanted her to have all the love she could get, not more pain."

Her eyes flicked to him, softened for a heartbeat, then hardened again. "I don't trust them. I don't trust her."

Devin spoke up. "You don't have to trust her. But you can trust Kian. And he trusted Stella—with his life and with Aaliyah's."

The room fell silent. Her stare burned into me, a mixture of grief, fear, and lingering distrust.

Finally, she stood, pacing. "I don't know what to do with all of this," she muttered. Then she stopped, looking at me. Something in her softened—maybe acceptance, maybe guilt. "I don't know how to be a grandmother, Stella. I wasn't there for Kian... and now I don't know how to fix it."

I felt a strange tug—sympathy mixed with anger. She hadn't been there for him, but she was here now. She had a chance to do right by Aaliyah.

"You don't have to fix everything," I said gently, walking toward her. "But you do need to show up. For her."

She met my gaze, swallowed hard, and muttered, "I'll think about it."

The silence that followed was heavy but not crushing. For the first time, I felt a flicker of hope. We had a long road ahead, but maybe... just maybe, we could move forward. For Kian. For Aaliyah. And for all of us.