12.

~NICO~

I spot Sienna before she spots us. She is standing near baggage claim, sunglasses on, hair pulled back in a messy knot like she did when she was seventeen and pretending she wasn’t nervous. New York hasn’t dulled her. If anything, it sharpened her.

She turns, her smile breaks first when she sees me.

She drops her bag and walks straight into my chest like she has every right to be there. Her arms wrap around my waist, tight and unguarded, as if she owns the space.

“You look like a corpse,” she says into my jacket.

“You look like trouble,” I reply.

She pulls back, pushing her sunglasses up. Her eyes scan my face. Searching. Measuring. She always does that. She always sees more than I want her to.

“So,” she says, tapping my chest. “This is what grief and power look like mixed together. Terrifying.”

Enzo clears his throat loudly. “Hello to me too, sunshine.”

She grins and throws herself at him next. “You got fat.”

“I got richer.”

“Same thing,” she says, patting his cheek.

Security moves in immediately, lifting Sienna’s bags before she can reach for them. They’re loaded into my car while two others fall into position, one ahead, one behind.

Sienna doesn’t comment on it. She never does. Security isn’t a discussion.

She slides into the backseat beside me like she never left, Enzo taking the front as Ignacio pulls away, the convoy moving as one.

“So,” she says casually, staring out the window as the driver pulls away. “Who’s the lucky woman?”

I don’t answer.

She turns slowly. “Oh.”

Enzo smiles, and that smile of his means he is about to ruin my day.

“Cake,” he says lightly.

Sienna blinks. “Cake?”

“Yes.” He nods.

“That’s not a real name.”

“It is if you survive her,” Enzo adds.

Her head snaps to him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“She broke a man’s nose a few days ago at your brother's club,” he says. “Didn’t even spill her drink.”

I glare at him.

Sienna looks at me now, her eyes shining bright with interest. “You’re marrying a woman named Cake who punches men?”

“She fights,” I say flatly.

She beams. “I already love her.”

“You haven’t met her.”

“Details.”

By the time we got home, the compound was busy as usual. Men moved with purpose, guards stationed where they had always been.

Sienna doesn’t slow as we walk in. She never does. She takes everything in with quick glances, familiar corners, old portraits, the weight of home hitting her all at once.

“Raffaele!” she squeals.

She breaks formation instantly, heels clicking as she all but runs toward him.

Raffaele D’Amico has been standing near the edge of the room, exactly where he always positions himself. Not central. Not absent. Watching everything. The man who kept my father’s empire breathing when blood was still fresh on the floor.

He looks up just in time before Sienna throws her arms around him, hugging him tight like she’s afraid he might disappear too.

He stiffens for half a second out of habit, out of instinct, then exhales and returns the embrace, one hand settling between her shoulders. Protective.

“You grew taller,” he says quietly.

She pulls back, squinting at him. “You’re lying. I just stopped slouching.”

A rare thing happens. Raffaele smiled.

He only ever does that with her. She has always been his exception. He watched us grow up. Buried his own family, stayed anyway.

“I’m glad you’re home, Sienna,” he says.

She beams. “I missed you. Someone had to keep my brother from becoming completely insufferable while I was gone.”

“I failed,” he replies smoothly. “But not for lack of effort.”

She laughs, then finally turns to look at me. “See? This is why I like him. He tells the truth.”

Enzo snorts behind us.

We settled into our chairs at the table, as the staff moved in quietly, setting plates, pouring water, and lighting candles.

Sienna drops into her chair, kicking her heels off under the table, “Okay,” she says, resting her chin in her palm as she looks at me. “So, Cake?”

I stop mid chew, looking at Enzo, he caused this. He only just smirked at me.

“She knows what she’s marrying into?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Is she scared of you?”

“She should be,”

Her smile softens. “And if she’s not, the better.”

Turning to Raffaele, “New York was loud and busy as always,” she says, reaching for her glass. “But at least it didn’t look at me like I was about to break.”

Raffaele nods once, listening the way he always does. I watch the way my sister doesn’t look at me when she says it.

I also wish I could get away once in a while.

“I don't see your most ruthless captain, Mr. Nico Vescari. Did he abandon ship a few days before your wedding?” Sienna teased, smirking at me.

“Adriano is away for business, but he’ll make it just in time before the wedding tomorrow,” I replied.

After dinner, I retreated to my wing, locking the door behind me and retrieving the journal.

I take a seat on my bed, opening the page already marked from my last read.

Day 53

Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if my father hadn’t died owing money.

People talk about grief like it’s just sadness. They don’t talk about the bills that come after. The calls. The looks. The way your mother learns how to smile while calculating what can wait another month.

We’ve been paying debts that were never ours. Living smaller so someone else can feel bigger.

I don’t want to love someone until I’m free. I don’t want to enter anyone’s life as a burden.

I want to stand on my own two feet first.

Even if it takes everything.

I close the book slowly.

Her voice from the car returns, clearer now. Not defensive. Honest.

“It’s natural for me to assume you’ll want your money back someday.”

I had hit a nerve I did not see. It wasn’t about money, but dignity.

I sat there longer than I should.

She doesn’t listen to words.

She listens to weight.

And I put mine on her without asking.