Unraveling Threads

Michele’s POV

By midday, the house had settled into a rhythm again, but I could tell the calm was forced.

Everything looked normal on the surface. The staff moved through the halls. The guards rotated posts. Lunch trays clattered in the kitchen. But underneath, the tension lingered like smoke that refused to leave.

From the second-floor balcony outside my study, I could see the garden below. Erin sat on the bench with Luca, a small notepad in his hand. The boy leaned close to him, drawing something. They were laughing at something only they understood.

It should have been an ordinary scene, but it wasn’t.

Something about watching them like that made my chest feel heavier. Maybe it was because I had almost lost that laughter two nights ago. Maybe it was because I couldn’t stop wondering how much Erin really knew.

I turned away from the railing. Enzo stood near the desk, holding a folder.

“That the report?” I asked.

He nodded. “We traced the last communication from the Croatian number. It pinged once more this morning.”

“Where?”

“Same location. Eastern docks.”

“They are waiting for us to move.”

“That is what I think too,” Enzo said. “They are testing how much you will risk.”

I sat down, my mind already turning. “And the inside connection?”

He hesitated. “Gianni still insists he did nothing. I think he truly did not know. We cross-checked every outgoing message from his device. Nothing leads outside the network.”

“Then whoever planted those recordings was never meant to stay alive,” I said quietly.

“Both men were killed right after the breach,” Enzo said. “Someone cleaned up fast.”

I leaned back in my chair. “So they got what they needed, and they are still watching.”

He hesitated before asking, “Do you think the nanny is part of it?”

I looked up at him. The question hung in the air for a moment.

“No,” I said finally. “But that does not mean he is safe from it.”

Enzo nodded. “Should I tell the men to keep eyes on him?”

“They already are.”

He gave a short smile. “You do not like leaving anything to chance.”

“I learned a long time ago that chance gets people killed.”

He left the room a few minutes later, and I was alone again.

The silence after he left felt too still. I tried to focus on the paperwork in front of me, but the sound of Erin’s laughter with Luca outside kept breaking through.

I told myself to ignore it. To remember what mattered.

But I found myself walking back to the window anyway.

They were still there. Luca was showing him a flower, holding it up proudly. Erin took it and tucked it behind the boy’s ear, both of them smiling. It was a small thing, nothing important, but for some reason it made something inside me twist.

I had seen men die without blinking. I had burned buildings down to the ground without hesitation. But one small, unguarded moment between them made my heartbeat shift out of rhythm.

It was weakness. I knew it. And weakness had no place here.

I turned from the window again and forced myself back to work.

Hours passed like that. Meetings, reports, calls. Each one felt heavier than the last. Every decision I made was sharp and precise, but part of my mind stayed fixed on the quiet figure downstairs.

By the time evening came, I needed to see him again, if only to prove that I still could.

I found him in the kitchen. The air smelled of pasta and herbs. Luca sat at the counter, swinging his legs while Erin stirred something on the stove. They both looked up when I entered.

“Papa,” Luca said with a smile. “We made dinner.”

Erin’s hand froze on the spoon for a second before he turned, voice careful. “Just something simple. He wanted to help.”

I nodded. “Smells good.”

“It might not taste good,” Luca said seriously. “I dropped salt.”

Erin laughed softly, the sound small but real. “He’s being dramatic. It’s fine.”

I moved closer, resting one hand on the counter. “You cook too?”

“A little,” Erin said. “Mostly because I have to.”

I looked at him for a moment. His sleeves were rolled up, hair a little messy, eyes bright from the heat. For the first time all day, the house felt alive again.

“Sit,” he said quietly after a second, as if remembering who I was. “It’s almost done.”

I sat. Not because I was used to taking orders, but because I wanted to see what he would do next.

Luca served the plates with the seriousness of a waiter. “For you, Papa.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Erin placed the last bowl in front of me. “I didn’t know what you liked.”

“Neither do most people,” I said, picking up the fork.

The food was simple. Pasta with herbs, nothing fancy. But it was warm, and for a moment, the tension that had settled in my chest loosened.

“You did well,” I said quietly.

Erin looked down, a faint color rising in his face. “It’s just dinner.”

“Still,” I said.

Luca smiled. “I told you Papa likes it when we cook.”

Erin smiled too, but I could see the edge of uncertainty behind it. He was careful now, like every word mattered.

After we finished, Luca ran off to get his toys. I stayed at the table. Erin started clearing the dishes, but I stopped him.

“Leave it,” I said. “Someone else will handle that.”

He hesitated. “I don’t mind.”

“I do.”

He looked at me, confused for a moment, but then nodded and sat down again.

The silence between us stretched. The kitchen was quiet except for the faint clinking of dishes cooling on the counter.

“You’re being careful around me,” I said finally.

His eyes flickered up. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You think you could?”

He didn’t answer.

I leaned back, studying him. “You heard part of my call earlier, didn’t you?”

He froze. “I didn’t mean to. The door was open.”

“I know.”

He looked at me cautiously. “You said something about having it under control. About someone not knowing.”

“That was business,” I said.

“Business that involves me?”

My jaw tightened. “If it did, you would know.”

His expression softened. “That doesn’t make it less scary.”

I looked at him for a long time. There it was again — that simple honesty. The kind that didn’t come from fear, but from something else. Something I couldn’t seem to silence.

“I told you to trust only me,” I said. “Has that changed?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. But it’s hard to trust someone who keeps things hidden.”

“I keep things hidden because they are dangerous.”

“I know. That’s what makes it hard.”

His voice was quiet but steady. He wasn’t challenging me. He was just telling the truth.

I didn’t answer right away. The air between us felt heavier now. He looked away first, his hands clasped on the table.

“I didn’t come here to cause trouble,” he said softly. “I just wanted to work, to help.”

“I know.”

He glanced at me again. “Then why do I feel like I’ve done something wrong?”

“You haven’t.”

He looked at me, searching for something in my face. I wasn’t sure what he found there, but he didn’t look away this time.

For a moment, the noise of the house disappeared. All I could hear was the sound of his breathing, the faint hum of the lights.

Then Luca’s voice broke the silence. “Papa! Erin! Come see this!”

The tension snapped like a thread. I stood up first. “Go to him,” I said quietly.

Erin hesitated, then nodded and walked out. I stayed behind for a second, staring at the chair he had been sitting in.

He had a way of filling quiet spaces with meaning. It wasn’t something he did on purpose. It was simply who he was.

When I finally joined them in the living room, Luca was on the rug, showing us a drawing. It was of three people again. Him in the middle, Erin on one side, me on the other.

“See,” he said proudly. “We look happy.”

Erin smiled. “We do.”

I crouched beside them and looked closer. The drawing was rough, but the faces had small smiles. I wasn’t sure when the boy had seen me smile like that, but I didn’t correct him.

“That’s a good one,” I said.

He grinned and threw his arms around both of us. Erin laughed softly, caught between surprise and warmth. I rested a hand on Luca’s back, but my eyes found Erin’s again.

He looked away first, but the flush on his cheeks didn’t fade.

Later, after I sent Luca to bed, I returned to my study. The monitors were still on, showing the house in soft gray light. One camera showed the hallway outside Luca’s room. Erin was there, tucking the boy in.

When he turned to leave, he paused, looked back at the sleeping child, then quietly closed the door.

He didn’t see the camera above him. Or maybe he did, and he no longer cared.

I watched him walk down the hall, his steps slow, quiet, tired. There was something in the way he moved that made my throat tighten again.

He wasn’t part of this world. But he was already tangled in it.

I told myself I was watching to protect him. That it was about control, not curiosity. But that was a lie, and I knew it.

He made me remember things I had buried long ago — what it felt like to want something without a reason. To look at someone and feel the world slow down just enough to notice the small things again.