9- Entering the Salvatore’s Estate

The silence in the car was unnerving, thick, and almost suffocating.

Vito had not said a single word since they left Angels Den, the place Milan now realized was both a nightclub and a secret mafia hideout. The room she had been in earlier was one of its lairs, deep underground and inaccessible to anyone outside their gang.

“Anyone I don't like here cannot be here,” Vito’s earlier words replayed in her mind, and she could finally understand why.

She glanced at him behind the wheel, and a wave of déjà vu washed over her. Same ambiance and position, but several years ago.

Back then, Vito was taking her to their estate after she was severely bullied by one of the infamous bullies in ICS. Alessandro.

I heard Alessandro admitted to Vito that he liked me and Vito made him follow me everywhere, just so Alessandro wouldn’t dare to confess his feelings to me. I didn't understand his logic and I didn't appreciate it.

I had been infuriated, stressed, and ticked off that Alessandro kept on tagging along with me everywhere.

Milan smiled as she recalled those days. When she couldn't take him tailing her anymore, she stood up against him squarely and told him not to follow her again, but he said he didn’t have a choice.

“What the hell did you mean I didn’t have a choice? You are not glued to me.“ That was her reply then. She had said it so fearlessly that his face altered into a frustrated one, and the next thing he did was slap her. He hit her so hard that she stumbled, and before she knew it, the kids had gathered, laughing and jeering him up like they always do when he bullies people. She was inflamed. There was no way she’d let him hit her and go scot-free, so she got her ass up and kicked him violently in his balls before spitting on his face. His action after that was unexpected and degrading, but when Vito learned of it, he had done the same back to him. Giving him a taste of his medicine, Alessandro had to drop out of ICS because of shame.

“Who are you thinking of that’s making you smile?” Vito’s deep, husky voice cut through her memories.

“Alessandro,” Milan whispered, and he looked at her briefly before he returned his gaze to the road.

“Who is that?” he asked, his jaw tightening.

“You don’t remember him?” she replied, subtly brushing her hair behind her ears with both hands.

Milan chuckled faintly at the memory, the taste of vengeance still vivid in her mind. That day had been her first real glimpse of Vito’s ruthlessness, and she had met his uncle Luca as well on that fateful day.

“No, I don’t,” he snorted like whoever that was wasn't worth his remembrance. He turned sharply onto a familiar lone road. “I hope you’re not hungry. We’ve passed the nearest restaurant.”

Milan’s eyebrows shot up. “You hope I’m not hungry? I haven’t eaten anything aside from breakfast,” she exclaimed.

Vito chuckled, that same enigmatic look in his eyes she could never name.

“You can feast on me, you know,” he teased.

Rolling her eyes, she replied, “I’m not a carnivore.”

“Your point?”

“My point is I want food, okay?” she countered, irritation prickling at her temples.

He wasn’t this hard to have intelligent conversations with before. What happened to him?

Vito said something under his breath and Milan threw him a glare. What’s he mumbling?

She scoffed and turned to look out of the window.

When the estate finally appeared before them, the cold, imposing structure of the Salvatore ancestral mansion loomed several miles ahead. Its cream-and-purple façade exuded a warning: happiness was scarce here, and outsiders were unwelcome.

Vito used a remote to lift the massive metallic gate. Atop it, she noticed a familiar sigil. It was the same design she had seen at Angels Den. Their family crest.

They drove on in silence for a few moments, the pressure of her secret pressing against her mind.

The pregnancy gnawed at her awareness. It was a stark reminder that she was carrying a Rocci—She was still Giovanni’s wife even in death. She shouldn't be mingling with the man who had killed her husband. But did she have any other choices?

Her stomach tightened at the thought that she was currently helpless, homeless, alone, and with a child she didn't know how to protect.

“Let’s just order food,” Vito told her when she asked again about food.

“That’s fair,” she muttered, relief softening her features. She had to eat to be healthy. For herself… and her child.

The car pulled into the spacious compound, lined with several expensive cars. The mansion itself looked lonely but the cars adorned it, showing quiet luxury.

“Best color, hm?” she raised a question as they alighted.

“No, Aurora chose it,” Vito answered, a subtle warmth threading his voice.

Milan glanced at him. For a brief moment, she saw a softer version than the cold façade he usually wore. Aurora must be special.

“You adore her, don’t you?” she asked.

“She kinda reminds me of you,” he replied immediately.

Her mouth dropped after his response. “Then you surely don’t adore her.” He clearly hated her guts. His little cousin must be overbearing too.

Vito chuckled, not giving a reply to her statement.

When we got to the first door, he input a password. 378931. The code seems oddly familiar to Milan’s Blackberry Bold 5 password back in secondary school, but she didn't comment on it as she didn't even remember the password correctly herself. She was certain he didn't remember either. It had been years.

“Come in,” he urged, and she nodded, strolling into the house with him.

“Vito, you are back.” The voice of an old woman was the first thing she heard as they walked in, and then the thick smell of lavender infiltrated her nose.

Her eyes searched for the woman, and they fell on a 5-foot-7 granny with a huge smile on her face. She barely has any black hair left in her hair but she looks healthy and agile. Her eyes also meet Milan’s and she offers her a little smile before she moves toward Vito to take his coat.

“How do you feel, Mrs. Luigi? How's Aurora today?” Vito asked, his voice calm and measured like he didn't send someone- my husband to God today.

Milan came to terms that wasn't what she should be thinking about instantly as the thought settled, so she looked around for any traces that indicated a kid lives here but she saw none. She also didn’t take notice of the old woman’s last name until later.

“Aurora didn't leave her room as usual. She ate a bit, and played with her toys, but—”

“I get it. You can retire now.”

”She’s asleep, though it took some time to settle her,” Mrs. Luigi said, her eyes full of a tenderness that reminded Milan of her own late grandmother. Her curly gray hair was surprisingly full and vibrant, and Milan couldn’t help but notice a faint resemblance to Mateo in her features.

Milan blinked in surprise. “Are you Mateo’s grandmother?” she asked impulsively. Then immediately cringed at her rudeness. She hadn’t even introduced herself yet.

Vito’s frown deepened as if scolding her silently. “She is Mateo’s mother,” he said shortly.

“Oh, ah, I see, sorry,” Milan apologised, letting out an awkward chuckle. “I’m Milano.” She introduced herself to the older woman, who looked genuinely pleased to meet her. “It seems Vito here doesn’t want to do the honors.”

As Vito’s frown grew, Mrs. Luigi laughed warmly. “Nice to meet you, Milano. I suppose you speak Italian?” She asked in Italian, and Milan also replied in their native language.

“Of course. I was born and raised in the Capital,”

She watched as the older woman’s smile widened, full of genuine delight.

“Haha, you are definitely from here. How come you don’t look like one?” Mrs. Luigi asked, pulling her closer.

At that moment, both of them seemed to forget that Vito was still standing nearby or that it was late and she should have been resting. She guided Milan into the expansive living room and gestured for her to sit.

“Are you mixed? How are your parents?” the older woman asked curiously.

Milan hesitated, subconsciously glancing back at Vito, hoping to avoid the emotional question.

He caught her glance and shot her a sharp look before walking over. “Yes, she’s mixed, and you have to be home before Mateo thinks I’m making you work late,” he said, his voice carrying a faint edge of authority.

Mrs. Luigi blushed, swatting at Vito’s hand as he reached to help her up. “That boy fears you too much to have any opinion. Every morning he prays I don't offend you.”

Milan laughed softly at the motherly tone, but Vito remained stoic.

“Even if you offend me, I will let it go,” he told her firmly.

“I know that. But he is convinced you will take it out on him,” Mrs. Luigi replied.

“I won’t. Do I do things like that?” Vito asked, confusion flickering across his face as he looked between Milan and Mrs. Luigi.

Milan scoffed, ready to point out how clearly he did, but Mrs. Luigi spoke first. “Sometimes. Anyway, I’m thrilled that you brought a cultured girl home. She’s so beautiful.” Her words warmed Milan’s heart, and a genuine smile spread across her face. “She smiles so beautifully too. How I wish Mateo could bring a girl like her home soon, and I wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Milan’s smile widened at the devotion in her voice, but when she met Vito’s gaze, she noticed he did not share her joy.

He appeared extremely furious.