To save her family from financial ruin, Elena Romano is forced into an arranged marriage with the most feared man in New York's underworld-Luca Moretti, a ruthless mafia boss. What begins as a cold, loveless union soon transforms as Elena discovers...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The door swung open, and everything happened all at once.
Matteo's mother didn't hesitate. One second, she was standing in the doorway, her breath catching, and the next, she was across the threshold, her arms flying toward him like she was afraid he'd vanish if she didn't hold on tight enough.
"Matteo!" Her voice cracked, raw with disbelief and too much emotion for her small frame to contain. She collided into him, gripping him like a lifeline, her fingers digging into his back. "My sweet boy, my baby. We thought we'd lost you forever."
Matteo stood frozen for half a beat. His breath hitched, his entire body stiff like he wasn't sure how to react. And then—
His arms lifted. Slow, hesitant, like he had to remember how to do this. He pulled her against him, his face disappearing into her shoulder as his entire body shuddered. The years of captivity, the silence, the fear—it all came pouring out, soaking into the fabric of his mother's sweater.
"I'm sorry, mamma," he murmured, barely above a whisper. His voice cracked, and the dam broke.
His mother's sobs deepened, her hands cupping his face, pulling back just enough to drink him in. Like she couldn't believe he was real. "You have nothing to be sorry for, tesoro. Nothing."
A throat cleared, low and heavy.
Their father, a man carved out of stone and stubbornness, stepped forward. Matteo tensed.
But then—his father's large, calloused hands landed on his shoulders. The weight of them was grounding, solid, and full of something Matteo probably never thought he'd see in his father's eyes.
Grief. Relief. Love.
"You're home now," his father said, his voice rough but steady. "That's all that matters."
Matteo inhaled sharply, his fingers tightening on his mother's arms. His father—this unshakable, unreadable man—was looking at him like he'd almost lost him. Like he didn't know how to handle having him back.
"Why didn't you call for help?" his mother asked suddenly, her voice trembling. "Matteo, we were looking for you. Every day. Why didn't you reach out?"
Matteo swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw ticking. "I couldn't," he admitted. "They kept me hidden. I didn't even know if you were still searching."
His father's grip on his shoulders tightened, firm but reassuring. "We never stopped. Every lead, every whisper, every dead end—we chased them all. We weren't going to stop until we had you back."
A heavy silence settled over the room, thick with everything unsaid.
I stood just outside of it, my hands twisting together, unsure if I should step in or keep my distance. This wasn't my moment. This was theirs.
