CHAPTER 28

RENZO

 

A week changed everything.

 

And it was not because time healed or any of that bullshit, but because my body finally stopped lagging behind my head. On the second day of my recovery, the shaking eased and the weakness stopped embarrassing me.

 

I could walk without the crutches by the fifth day. My father's VIP Doctors grinned at the progress, and my father stopped hovering.

 

At last, the house went back to the way it always had.

 

It didn't last anyway. The news broke on the seventh morning. It wasn’t meant for me, but nothing ever stayed out of my reach for long.

 

“Emilio Vescari and Richard Dominico to attend the upcoming White House gala alongside their children,” the anchor said brightly. “The exclusive event will host key international figures, philanthropists, and business leaders. Sources say the Vescari family has been instrumental in recent diplomatic negotiations.”

 

I watched the screen without reacting.

 

Why wouldn't it be Emilio Vescari? That greedy old fool was always seeking connections higher than his ambitions.

 

But…

 

I frowned.

 

Why did my father agree to attend that bullshit?

 

Grace muted the television the moment she noticed my attention. She glanced at May, who stiffened slightly, then both of them pretended to care about the flower arrangement on the table suddenly.

 

I ignored them both.

 

_________

 

An hour later, Elix was at my doorstep.

 

The moment Grace let her in, she moved straight toward me with a smile already fixed on her face. Her arms were open as if we were in the middle of some long-awaited reunion.

 

My frown deepened.

 

If Elix noticed, she didn't comment on it.

 

“Renzo,” she said warmly. “You look good.”

 

I let her kiss my cheek. “Thanks,” I said. “You did a lot while I was out.”

 

She beamed at that, relief flashing through her eyes before she hid it. “Someone had to,” she said lightly. “I’m sorry, I had to do all that. Your men need to pledge their loyalty to their boss even if he is half dead.”

 

Ouch. That stung. “They listened,” I replied. “That matters.”

 

“It should,” she said. “And they’re alive because of it.”

 

I nodded once.

 

Grace appeared with a bottle of wine and May followed with clean glass cups, already arranged on a tray. The timing was obvious.

 

Elix noticed and smiled wider.

 

“Celebration?” she asked.

 

“Why not,” I said. “I woke up.”

 

That earned a laugh from her. I took the bottle, popped it open myself then poured generously, handed her a glass first.

 

“To recovery,” Elix said, lifting her glass.

 

I clinked mine against hers. “To progress.”

 

We drank.

 

The wine was expensive but tasted good. It didn’t loosen anything in me, but it made the room lighter. Elix relaxed into it.

 

Behind us, Grace who rarely smiled, smiled for real. She even laughed when Elix made a joke about doctors being glorified babysitters.

 

It almost felt normal.

 

Almost.

 

Elix set her glass down after a while and turned to me fully. “I didn’t think you’d come out of the coma so fast,” she said casually, but her eyes were watching me closely. “My father was… surprised.”

 

“I tend to disappoint expectations,” I replied.

 

She smiled at that. “He’s invited us to the gala. Next weekend.”

 

I didn’t respond.

 

She continued anyway. “The dress code is red and black,” she said. “And I really want you there for me.”

 

I turned to her slowly.

 

“For you,” I repeated.

 

“Yes,” she said. “This isn’t just a party. It’s just for visibility. You’ve been gone for a long time and people talk.”

 

“The woman who poisoned me is still out there,” I said flatly. “And you’re thinking of a gala at the White House?”

 

Her smile slipped.

 

She picked up her glass again, her fingers tightening around it. “Renzo—”

 

I pushed her hand aside before she could touch me. Her glass tipped and wine spilled across the table.

 

Elix stared at the mess for a second, then cursed under her breath. “Fuck.”

 

She looked back up at me, irritated. “I am fucking trying here.”

 

“Trying what,” I asked. “To distract me?”

 

“To protect you,” she snapped. “To move things forward while you sit here spiraling.”

 

“I don’t spiral,” I said. “I plan.”

 

She exhaled hard. “I told you I have connections at the embassy. They’re checking records. Especially official ones, passenger manifests, private flights… anything fucking tied to Zaria Dominico.”

 

That got my attention.

 

“Say that again.”

 

“Zaria Dominico,” she repeated. “Her name is flagged already. Listen, any movement, any travel, any entry attempt tied to that name or its variations is being monitored.”

 

I stared at her. “And you waited until now to tell me.”

 

“I waited until I had something concrete,” she shot back. “Which is more than you’ve done sitting here threatening your own men.”

 

That was bold.

 

I respected it more than I should have.

 

She softened slightly, stepping closer. “Renzo, this gala matters. My father matters. The people who will be there matter. I know you are powerful, but I don't think it only comes from guns and fear. Sometimes it comes from rooms like that.”

 

“And sometimes,” I gritted out, “it comes from dragging someone back by the throat.”

 

She didn’t flinch. “You’ll get your chance. But if you don’t show up with me, people will ask why.”

 

“Let them.”

 

“They’ll assume you’re weak,” she pressed. “or… You hate my father.”

 

I gave her a look. “Really?”

 

“Prove it,” she said quietly.

 

“If you stand beside me,” Elix continued. “I’ll show you what my father does best.”

 

“And what would that be?” I asked.

 

She leaned in just enough to lower her voice. “A hundred gun shipments. Also… embassies talk at events like that. I'll get you Zaria for revenge.”

 

I considered that.

 

“No one can escape your connections, Renzo.” Eliz shrugged, checking her fingernails nonchalantly. “And that's what I am using.”

 

She was right.

 

Except for one thing.

 

I was using her too.