Silent love

Chapter 57

On the previous chapter...

She pulled back without another word, turned on her heel, and slid into the car where Chrysanthe was already waiting.

Chrysanthe stepped out for just a moment. She walked up to Immanuel, no words, just a quick hug, arms over shoulders and one cheek brushing his collarbone then slipped back into the car without a sound.

The door closed.

The engine hummed.

And the twins were gone.

We stood there for a beat, a moment of silence that felt ceremonial, but not heavy.

Then Fiorenzo cleared his throat. "Well. That was dramatic".

Silvio snorted. "You mean emotional?"

"Same thing". Fiorenzo muttered.
Seraphina rolled her eyes. "You're all idiots".

Jacques lit a cigarette, glancing after the car. "I liked them. Especially the tall one with the stare that could castrate".

"That's both of them". I pointed out.

He grinned. "Exactly".

Immanuel didn't say anything. Just stood there, watching the dust settle. But something in his expression had shifted.

Not broken. Just... changed.

And the rest of us firelit, bruised, still standing, stayed there, in the Sicilian sun, laughing just a little too loud. Trying, maybe, to remember what it was like before everything burned.

ʚ YAQUELINE'S POV ɞ

The second the car doors closed, I felt it in my chest a quiet shift in the air, like a storm arriving without wind or warning. Not fear. Not dread. Something sharper.

Recognition.

Jacques was already on his feet before the front door opened. He said nothing, but I saw the way his jaw eased, the small relief in his shoulders. Our father was here.

And with him Vincent.

I stood slower, my movements precise. Respectful. But inside, I straightened my spine like armor was sliding into place. I knew why father came. He didn't cross countries just to talk business.

He came for me.

Still, when he entered the room, part of me relaxed. That same part that never quite stopped being his daughter. That remembered how his voice could calm a room full of wolves. That remembered what it felt like to be protected by someone the whole world feared.

"Merde". Immanuel muttered under his breath as Mauro crossed the threshold, voice half-smile. "Did we get promoted or sentenced?"

Fathers presence answered that for him.

"Look at this". Fathers voice was smooth as polished steel. "Six killers pretending to be philosophers".

I almost smiled.

Jacques went to him first, and they embraced briefly, but genuinely. Then it was my turn.

"Father". I said softly.

His arms went around me, strong and sure. The kind of hug that reminded me who I was before the world cracked open.

"You look too thin". He said, stepping back. "This place starves you?"

"It feeds me enough".

He acts like he didn't see me a couple days ago, at the funeral of Federico. I didn't have enough time to talk to my father then. But now we sure do. He looked me over like he didn't believe it. Like he could see past the tailored clothes and steady voice to the things I tried to bury.