Chapter 149

The door clicked shut behind me, but I lingered, my back pressed against the cool wood, my heart pounding in my chest. I could still feel the ghost of Vicenzo’s touch on my skin, the way his hands had roamed over my body with a mix of desperation and desire. But now, as I stood there alone in the dimly lit hallway, the weight of his silence settled heavily on my shoulders. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? The questions swirled in my mind, unrelenting.
Minutes passed, or maybe hours—I couldn’t tell anymore. My feet eventually carried me to my room, where I collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sleep eluded me, my thoughts a chaotic storm. I replayed every moment of the day, from the moment Vicenzo stepped out of prison to the way he’d held me, kissed me, made love to me. There was so much left unspoken, so many questions that demanded answers. But I had promised to give him space, and I intended to keep that promise.
When morning finally came, I rose reluctantly, my body heavy with fatigue. I dressed slowly, choosing a simple yet elegant outfit, something that made me feel poised and confident. I needed that confidence today because I had a feeling that whatever Vicenzo was about to tell me would shake the very foundation of everything I thought I knew.
I found him in the dining room, seated at the head of the table, his posture stiff and his expression unreadable. Nancy was there too, sipping coffee quietly, her eyes darting between us with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
“Good morning,” I said softly, forcing a smile as I took my seat beside him.
He nodded in acknowledgment but said nothing, his dark eyes fixed on the coffee cup in his hands. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to slice with a knife. I exchanged a quick glance with Nancy, who gave me a subtle shrug, clearly as in the dark as I was.
Breakfast passed in near silence, the clinking of utensils the only sound breaking the heavy quiet. I could feel Vicenzo’s energy shifting, his restlessness growing with each passing moment. Finally, he set his fork down and turned to me, his gaze piercing as if he were trying to read my soul.
“Rachel,” he began, his voice low and measured, “we need to talk. Alone.”
My heart skipped a beat, but I nodded, trying to keep my composure. Nancy took the hint and excused herself, leaving the two of us alone in the room. The air felt charged, electric, as if the slightest spark could set it ablaze.
Vicenzo leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, his tone serious. “It’s about Veronica.”
The mention of her name sent a shiver down my spine. Veronica. The woman who had always been a shadow in our relationship, a constant reminder of the secrets and lies that had torn us apart. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “What about her?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. “While I was in prison, she came to see me. More than once. And she told me… things. Things I didn’t know, things I’m still trying to process.”
My stomach churned, a knot of dread forming in my gut. “What kind of things?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.
He hesitated, his jaw tightening as if he were bracing himself for what he was about to say. “She told me that we have a child together,” he said finally, his words heavy with disbelief. “A son.”
The room spun around me, the world tilting on its axis as his words sank in. A child? Vicenzo and Veronica have a son? My mind raced, trying to make sense of it all, but the pieces refused to fit. I felt as if I’d been punched in the chest, the air forced from my lungs.
“What… what are you saying?” I stammered, my voice trembling.
“I don’t know if it’s true,” he said quickly, his tone defensive. “But she claims it is. She even showed me a photo of him. He looks… like me.”
My vision blurred, the edges of the room growing dark. I could feel myself sinking, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a boulder. This can’t be real. This has to be a mistake. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t. The pain in Vicenzo’s eyes, the way he looked at me with a mixture of guilt and desperation, told me that he believed her. And if he believed her, then…
I felt my body go limp, the strength leaving my limbs as I slumped forward. The last thing I saw before everything went black was Vicenzo’s face, his expression filled with shock and concern as he reached out to catch me. But I was already gone, lost in the darkness of my own disbelief.I woke up to the sound of my own heartbeat, loud and erratic, like a drum echoing in the hollow chambers of my chest. My eyelids fluttered open, and the first thing I saw was the ornate ceiling of Vicenzo’s mansion, its intricate patterns swirling in a dizzying dance. My head throbbed, and for a moment, I couldn’t remember where I was or what had happened. But then it hit me—like a tidal wave crashing over me—all at once.
Vicenzo. Veronica. A son.
My body reacted before my mind could catch up. A sharp, nauseating ache twisted in my stomach, as if someone had dug their fingers deep into my gut and squeezed. I gasped, clutching at my abdomen, the pain radiating outward, spreading through my chest and up into my throat. My breath came in shallow, ragged gulps, and I could feel the heat of panic rising in my cheeks. I wanted to scream, to cry, to do something—but I couldn’t. I was paralyzed, trapped in a cage of my own disbelief.
I turned my head, slowly, my vision still blurry at the edges. Vicenzo was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders hunched, his hands resting on his knees. He looked… broken. Vulnerable. The man I had always known as strong, as unshakable, now seemed like a ghost of himself. His dark eyes were clouded with guilt, his jaw tight, as if he were holding back a flood of emotions he didn’t want to let loose.
The sight of him in such a state only made the ache in my chest deepen. I wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, but my hands felt like they were made of lead, too heavy to lift. Instead, I lay there, staring at him, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket.
“Rachel…” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a knife. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know if I even believed it myself.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. My throat was dry, my tongue thick and clumsy. I could feel the sting of tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. I wouldn’t cry. Not yet. Not until I had all the pieces.