Chapter 20 - The Open Door
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“He is at the harbor compound, packing his final things,” the lawyer replied quietly. “He leaves for Europe tonight. He instructed me to tell you that he will never return to Boston, and you will never be bothered by his presence again.”
The lawyer nodded respectfully and walked down the hallway, leaving me standing in the doorway with the heavy envelope in my hands.
He was leaving. Forever.
I walked back into my apartment, tossing the envelope onto the kitchen counter. I stared at the thick stack of legal documents that would make me one of the wealthiest, most powerful women on the East Coast. It was everything Maria Vitali had wanted for her daughter—safety, legitimacy, freedom from the cage.
But as I looked at the papers, all I felt was a crushing, agonizing emptiness.
Christopher was a monster forged by a cruel father, but he was also the man who had wept when he heard his mother’s song. He was the man who had taken a bullet for me. He was giving up his entire world just to give me peace.
I couldn't let him disappear into the dark alone.
I grabbed my coat, ignoring the legal documents, and ran out of the apartment. I burst onto the street, sprinting toward the idling black SUV parked at the corner.
Dante was sitting in the driver’s seat. He looked shocked as I yanked the passenger door open and climbed inside.
“Take me to the compound, Dante,” I ordered, channeling the fierce, undeniable authority of the bloodline running through my veins. “Right now.”
Dante didn't argue. He threw the SUV into gear and sped through the rainy Boston streets.
When we reached the massive iron gates of the compound, they were standing wide open. The guards were gone. The fortress looked abandoned.
I ran up the grand steps and pushed through the heavy front doors. The house was dead silent, stripped of its menace and life. I sprinted toward the library, the place where everything had started.
The door was ajar.
Christopher stood by the window, wearing a dark overcoat, staring out at the harbor. A single leather duffel bag sat on the mahogany desk next to the three archival boxes.
He turned as I burst into the room, his dark eyes widening in shock. He looked exhausted, hollowed out, a king who had willingly surrendered his crown.
“Emily,” he whispered, taking a hesitant step forward before catching himself and freezing in place. “You shouldn't be here. The lawyer was supposed to—”
“I didn't sign the papers,” I interrupted, stepping fully into the room, closing the heavy oak door behind me.
The lock clicked, echoing loudly in the quiet library.
I walked slowly across the Persian rug, the space between us charged with an impossible, tragic electricity. I didn't know how to navigate the horrifying reality of our bloodline, or the violent empire we had inherited. I only knew that standing in this room, looking at him, was the only place I wanted to be.
“I’m not signing them,” I said quietly, stopping inches away from him.
Christopher looked down at me, his chest heaving, his hands clenched tightly at his sides to keep from touching me.
“What happens now?” he asked, his voice rough and terrified.
May you like
I looked at the archival boxes on the desk, then back to the man who had broken my world wide open.
“Now,” I whispered, “we open the door.”
