I wear his name like a scar.
Alessandro Rossi stole everything from me; my freedom, my future, the lie I told my father to keep him alive. He thinks I'm a tool to be used, a bride to be displayed, a Fraga to be broken. He thinks the ring on my finge...
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Vigo, Galicia, Spain.
Miguel Castillo—once my father's Underboss, now the boss of Los Gallegos, the Galician Mafia.
A week after my father's funeral, the coronation ceremony went down, officially crowning Miguel as the new leader, just like my father had wanted.
And now, Miguel was getting married. My Miguel, the brother I never had. The whole thing had me feeling this weird mix of happiness and sadness. Dad always talked about Miguel's wedding, how much he wanted to see him settle down. But now, he was gone too soon, and he'd never get to see it. Kismet.
But honestly, the excitement was kind of overshadowed by this nervous, jittery feeling in my chest. Alessandro was going to be here. For a whole week. Just the thought of being under the same roof as him had my heart doing somersaults. Three months apart, and I still missed him like crazy. Not because of his charm or the way he could make me melt with just a look—no, it was the love he had for me, the strength he gave me when things got tough. I'd always be grateful for that. But it broke my heart that, despite all of it, he didn't fight for us. He just... let it all fall apart.
I was sitting in the garden, soaking up the sun, trying to lose myself in a romance novel. It wasn't really working. My mind kept drifting back to him, no matter how hard I tried to focus on the book.
"Estás ben? (Are you okay?)" Miguel's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. He sat down next to me, his face full of concern.
I nodded, forcing a smile. "I'm fine, Miguelito."
"I sent the boys to pick up Alessandro and the rest of the family from the airport," he said, his tone casual, like he wasn't dropping a bomb on me.
I let out a shaky breath. I wasn't ready for this. Not even close.
"Aren't you ever going to tell me what happened between you and Alessandro?" Miguel asked, draping an arm over my shoulder. "How did it even come to a divorce?"
"Nothing happened, Miguel. Nothing was ever meant to happen, I guess," I replied, avoiding his gaze. I didn't want to see the pity in his eyes.
"What about the babies, Yaya?" His voice softened, and I could hear the worry creeping in. "I can't stand the thought of you alone and pregnant in New York, thousands of miles away from us. After everything we've been through... I can't risk something else happening to you. Never again."
"It's in the past, Miguelito. I'm fine now, and I'll be fine. We'll be fine," I reassured him, patting my belly.
His hand covered mine, warm and comforting. "I'm gonna be an uncle... it's still sinking in," he said, chuckling softly. His eyes were shining with a mix of disbelief and joy.
