CH-9

VINCENZO POV

It has been a few weeks since I last spoke to Mom.

I have tried calling her several times during these past weeks—sometimes in the morning, sometimes late at night when the silence feels heavier than usual—but every single time the result has been the same.

She avoids my calls like the plague.

At first, I convinced myself she must simply be busy. But after the fifth attempt… and the sixth… and the seventh, the truth became impossible to ignore.

She is deliberately avoiding me.

And I know exactly why.

Our last conversation still echoes inside my head like an unfinished argument.

The moment I told her I would not return to Brussels, the warmth in her voice had vanished instantly. The disappointment was so thick it had almost suffocated me through the phone.

She did not shout.

She did not accuse me.

She simply went silent.

And then she hung up.

Since that day, she has refused to speak to me.

A sigh escapes my lips as I stare at my phone for a long moment before finally dialing another number.

If Mom will not talk to me… then my brother will.

The phone rings three times before the call connects.

“Accept my greetings, brother.”

For a brief second there is silence.

Then his familiar voice fills the line.

“Greetings to you too, champ. What a pleasant surprise.”

His voice is exactly the same as always—warm, calm, carrying that quiet affection he has always shown me since we were children.

Just hearing it eases something inside my chest.

But I am not calling for pleasantries.

“Mom isn’t taking my calls.”

I get straight to the point.

There is no need to dance around the subject. If anyone knows why she is ignoring me, it is him.

I am certain she told him about our last conversation. The one where she hung up the moment I refused to visit Brussels.

“Vincenzo,” he says gently, “she is fine. Don’t worry about her.”

His tone carries reassurance, but I can still hear the subtle shift in his voice.

He is avoiding the topic.

“But since you called, I need a favour from you.”

My brows knit slightly.

A favour?

“Anything, brother. Just say the word.”

Respect comes naturally when I speak to him. It always has.

There is a brief pause on the other end of the line.

Then his voice lowers.

“I have been having spinal cord spasms… and the doctors say I need surgery as soon as possible.”

For a moment, I think I misheard him.

My body goes rigid in the chair.

“Bro—why didn’t you tell me?” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. “How long has this been happening? How are you feeling now? When is the surgery?”

Questions pour out of me one after another.

“Well…” he exhales softly. “I haven’t scheduled the surgery yet.”

My jaw tightens.

“What?”

“There are several important meetings lined up. I can’t afford to make mistakes right now.”

Even now.

Even when his own health is at risk.

He is still thinking about responsibilities.

“Moreover,” he continues, “you know how Aria is.”

A small smile tugs at my lips despite the tension.

Yes.

I know exactly how Aria is.

“She acts strong in front of everyone,” he says quietly. “But if something happens to me… she becomes the weakest person in the world.”

I close my eyes briefly.

“I know.”

Silence lingers between us for a moment.

Then he speaks again.

“So I was hoping you could take a few days off and come here. I need someone strong to handle everything while I recover.”

My chest tightens.

“And honestly,” he adds softly, “I can’t think of anyone better than you.”

His words put me in a difficult position.

Part of me does not want to go back.

Brussels is not just a city.

It is a place filled with memories I would rather bury forever.

Memories of expectations.

Of judgment.

Of suffocating traditions.

But he is my brother.

My only real family.

If he needs me… there is no question.

“I will arrange the first available flight to Brussels,” I say finally. “I’ll send you the details as soon as I get them.”

Relief fills his voice instantly.

“I’ll be waiting.”

The call ends shortly after.

But the faint happiness in his tone leaves a small smile on my face.

I pick up my phone again and dial another number.

“Ms. Carlo, please arrange the first available flight to Brussels for me.”

“Yes, sir. Right away. I’ll send the details shortly.”

I can hear voices in the background.

And one voice in particular.

Valerio.

“Vincenzo, where are you going?” he asks next.

“Brussels,” I reply casually. “My brother needs me.”

“Is everything okay?”

His concern sounds genuine.

“Yeah… sort of.”

Then I smirk.

“Come home once you’re done with your ‘important work.’”

I deliberately emphasize the last two words.

Because the voices I heard earlier made it quite clear what kind of “important work” he was doing.

There is a brief pause on the other end.

“Hmm… yeah. See you at home.”

I chuckle quietly after hanging up.

I truly do not understand him sometimes.

If he likes Ms. Carlo… why doesn’t he simply admit it?

Shaking my head, I lean back in my chair and close my eyes.

Brussels.

The name alone makes something heavy settle inside my chest.

The same people.

The same judging gazes.

The same expectations waiting to suffocate me the moment I return.

I do not know when I will finally be free from all of it.

The moment my feet touch the land of my birth, a strange wave of nostalgia washes over me.

The air feels different here.

Familiar.

Heavy with memories.

Part of me wants to turn around and board the next flight out.

But responsibility anchors me to the ground.

I take a slow breath before stepping forward.

“Your Highness, this way please.”

A group of airport staff waits respectfully at the end of the passage.

For a moment, confusion crosses my mind.

But the way they address me makes it clear.

My brother arranged this.

Of course he did.

Without a word, I follow them through a private corridor.

“Right this way, Your Highness.”

The man ahead opens a door.

I nod slightly and step outside.

And there he is.

My brother stands a few steps away, dressed in a perfectly tailored business suit. His sunglasses hide his eyes, and his arms are folded across his chest.

A rare smile rests on his face.

Sometimes I wonder how he manages to look so effortlessly composed all the time.

Elegance seems to flow through him naturally.

My eyes scan him instinctively.

Searching for any sign of weakness.

Thankfully… he looks fine.

But I know him well enough to understand the truth.

He is simply very good at hiding pain.

“Bro—”

Before I can finish, he closes the distance between us and pulls me into a tight embrace.

My eyes close automatically.

His warmth wraps around me like something I did not realize I needed.

His grip tightens slightly.

I hug him back just as firmly.

“How is my little brother?” he murmurs.

I can hear the happiness in his voice.

“I’m good,” I reply quietly. “How are you?”

“Now that you’re here… I’ll be fine.”

His words hit deeper than he probably intended.

They remind me once again that something is wrong.

I slowly pull away before my emotions betray me.

“Shall we?” he asks.

I nod.

I had booked a hotel earlier because I had no intention of staying at the palace.

But now that he is here… refusing him would be impossible.

The drive back is filled with light conversation about work.

Eventually, the enormous palace gates appear ahead of us.

Memories crash into me the moment I see them.

Bitter ones.

I close my eyes briefly.

Steady yourself.

When I open them again, something unexpected catches my attention.

Outside, in the palace gardens, life looks completely different.

The gardens stretch endlessly in every direction—perfect emerald lawns, fountains carved from white stone, and rows of roses swaying gently in the breeze.

And in the middle of all that elegance…

Chaos.

Pure, joyful chaos.

Laughter echoes through the air.

Zara is running after a rabbit with all the determination of a tiny warrior.

Suddenly she stumbles.

Before I can even react—

Lio moves.

Fast.

Precise.

He catches her mid-fall like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Zen rushes over immediately, examining her like a tiny doctor checking for injuries.

I watch Lio carefully.

Too calm.

Too composed.

Too controlled.

Just like his father.

Like father, like son.

He approaches me with a seriousness far beyond his years.

“Accept my greetings, Uncle.”

He bows slightly.

I pull him into my arms instantly.

“God… I missed you.”

“Phone calls don’t count,” he replies smoothly.

Smart kid.

I glance at the twins.

Four curious eyes stare back at me.

“Do you know who I am?”

They shake their heads.

The answer stings more than I expected.

“Well… I can’t blame you,” I say softly. “I never visit.”

I kneel down to their level.

“I’m Uncle Vincenzo.”

Recognition lights up their faces like sunlight breaking through clouds.

The next second, they jump into my arms with reckless excitement.

And for the first time since arriving…

I laugh.

A genuine laugh.

“Did you bring our gifts?” Zara asks seriously.

Of course.

Kids never forget the important things.

I silently thank Ms. Carlo for arranging last-minute gifts before my flight.

“Yes,” I say. “But later.”

My brother intervenes gently.

“Go play. Your uncle is staying.”

Staying.

The word lingers in the air longer than it should.

The children nod obediently and run back to the garden.

Lio instructs one of the security guards to watch them before walking inside with us.

“They are adorable, brother,” I admit. “I feel guilty for not visiting earlier.”

Before my brother can respond, Lio speaks.

“Never mind, Uncle,” he says with a small smirk.

“Now that you’re here… I’m sure Dad has already planned something to keep at least one of your legs here permanently.”

The boy’s smirk grows wider.

And suddenly…

I have a very bad feeling about what he means.

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