Chapter 16: The Price of Safety

The hum of the jet was soft, almost soothing, but Siena Costa couldn’t relax. Not when her daughter lay curled up on her lap, barely moving. Lucia’s skin was warm and damp, her breath shallow. Siena brushed a curl from the girl’s forehead and tried not to think of the blood on the pillow just hours ago.

Adriano sat across from them in the cabin, elbows resting on the armrests, eyes dark and unreadable. He hadn’t spoken since takeoff. He didn’t need to. Everything in his posture said what his mouth wouldn’t: he was barely holding it together.

Siena hated how that made her feel.

She shifted slightly, adjusting the blanket around Lucia. The child stirred but didn’t wake.

Her thoughts raced.

She remembered the panic in Adriano’s voice when he burst into her room last night. Lucia’s choked cough. The way he didn’t hesitate to scoop her up, shout for his staff, bark orders into the phone. Everything happened so fast. One moment, they were arguing. The next, she was on a helicopter with the man she swore she’d never trust again.

And now they were flying over the Alps.

To Geneva. To his private clinic.

To the future she wasn’t sure she wanted.

---

The villa was breathtaking.

Stone walls, iron gates, a sweeping drive that ended in manicured gardens and a house that looked more like a museum than a home. Everything was glass, steel, and perfection. Cold. Clean. Controlled.

Siena stepped out of the car with Lucia in her arms. The girl was still feverish, cheek pressed to her mother’s shoulder.

A team of doctors was already waiting on the steps.

Adriano walked ahead, speaking to the lead physician — an older man with sharp eyes and a clipped French accent. “Everything is ready. Bloodwork. Scans. No delays.”

“Of course, Mr. Valtasari,” the man replied. “We will be discreet.”

Beside him stood a woman. Blonde. Tall. Immaculate in her lab coat. Her eyes lingered on Adriano just a little too long.

Siena noticed.

The woman turned to her with a polite smile. “I’m Dr. Amelie Verdoux. We’ll take good care of your daughter.”

Siena nodded stiffly. Her grip on Lucia tightened.

They moved quickly. An assistant brought a wheelchair, and Siena lowered Lucia into it gently. When she tried to follow, a nurse stopped her.

“We’ll need a few moments to prep her. Just wait here, please.”

Siena froze. “I’m not leaving her.”

Adriano stepped in. “They just need a few minutes.”

She glared at him. “And you trust them?”

His voice dropped. “I pay them enough to trust them with my life. And hers.”

Siena hesitated. Then, reluctantly, she let them take Lucia inside.

The doors closed.

Silence fell.

---

The sitting room of the villa was like something from a magazine. Soft cream couches. Sculptures on pedestals. Abstract paintings on the walls. Siena stood at the window, arms crossed, watching the clouds shift over Lake Geneva.

Behind her, Adriano poured two glasses of water.

“It’ll take time,” he said. “They’re doing everything.”

She didn’t answer.

He walked over and handed her the glass. She took it without looking at him.

Minutes passed.

Finally, she whispered, “You think this place will fix her?”

Adriano didn’t flinch. “I think it’s the best shot we have.”

She nodded slowly. “It’s always about control with you. The right doctors. The best walls. The perfect plan.”

“Yes.”

She turned to him. “And what if it doesn’t work?”

His voice was low. “Then I’ll break the world trying to save her.”

Siena looked into his eyes for a long time. Searching. Measuring.

And for the first time in days, she saw it.

Fear.

Not the kind that made men run.

The kind that made them fight.

She looked away.

“I’m going to stay with her,” she said.

Adriano just nodded.

As she walked down the hallway toward the clinic wing, Siena felt something shift inside her. A slow unraveling of hate. A thread of something else curling into the cracks.

She didn’t trust him.

But for now… she was choosing to believe.

---

20 minutes later.

Doctors allowed Siena to come into Lucia’s room.

Siena pushed open the clinic room door gently. The lights had been dimmed to a soft gold. Machines hummed quietly in the background, their blinking lights too bright, too rhythmic, like they didn’t belong in the same world as her daughter’s fragile breaths.

Lucia lay beneath crisp white sheets, a tiny figure in a too-large bed. Electrodes were taped to her chest. A cannula rested under her nose, feeding her oxygen. She looked pale. Still. Too still.

Siena’s throat tightened.

She walked to the bed and pulled the chair close, sitting down beside her, fingers already reaching for Lucia’s hand. The girl stirred slightly at the touch, eyelids fluttering but not opening. Siena bent low and kissed her knuckles.

“I’m here, baby,” she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She stayed like that for a long time. The world outside the room ceased to exist — no marble floors, no wine glasses, no mafia threats. Just her daughter. Her heartbeat. Her reason.

But she wasn’t alone.

She didn’t hear the footsteps. Didn’t sense him at first.

But when she finally glanced up — Adriano stood just inside the doorway, silent.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

Only watched.

Siena’s gaze softened, if only slightly. The shadows under his eyes were darker now. He hadn’t changed clothes. His jaw was clenched, but there was something else written in his posture — something brittle, aching.

She looked back at Lucia. “She looks like you when she sleeps.”

Adriano blinked, startled.

Siena wasn’t sure why she said it.

Maybe because it was true. Maybe because it scared her. Maybe because part of her needed him to hear it.

“She fights like you, too,” she added.

He stepped closer. “She gets that from you.”

Silence settled between them like mist.

Siena traced a curl away from Lucia’s cheek. “I should’ve told you.”

Adriano exhaled, a breath that sounded like it had been held for years. “You were scared.”

She nodded. “And angry. And tired. And so alone.”

“I would’ve been there.”

“You were already gone.”

Adriano didn’t respond. His jaw tightened again, but this time not in fury — in pain.

“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” she said, her voice low. “I’m asking you to see her. Just see her. Not as a pawn. Not as a claim. But as a person. A child.”

“I do,” he said.

Siena turned to him then. Full. Direct. “Do you?”

He met her eyes.

And didn’t look away.

“She’s… the only good thing I’ve ever helped create,” he said.

Siena blinked.

He sounded almost… human.

She rose from the chair slowly, brushing the front of her sweater. “I’ll stay here tonight.”

Adriano nodded. “Zara will bring you what you need.”

Siena hesitated at the door. “You should sleep too.”

“I won’t.”

She lingered one second longer — then left.

Behind her, Adriano took the seat she’d just vacated.

He sat there for hours, never speaking.

Just watching the rise and fall of the small chest under the sheets.

As if memorizing the rhythm of hope.

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