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135 Kapitel

Run, Sofia, Run

SOFIA’S POV The thermometer beeped once, sharp, and accusing. I pulled it from Renzo’s armpit and stared at the red line. 40.2°C. Higher than an hour ago. His small chest rose and fell too fast, his cheeks flushed dark red, his curls plastered to his forehead with sweat. I pressed the cool cloth to his skin again, but the heat poured off him like steam from a kettle.“Hold on, mon cœur,” I whispered in Italian—the only language that still felt like mine. “Maman va t’emmener chez le docteur.” “Mom is going to take you to the doctor.”He didn’t answer. He just whimpered as his tiny fist clutched the edge of my dress.I glanced at the clock on the nightstand, it was 1:17 a.m. Riccardo had been gone since six am. Business, he’d said. Always business. Always the same excuse.I stood up and lifted Renzo against my shoulder. His head lolled, too heavy. Panic clawed up my throat. I carried him downstairs, my bare feet silent on marble, past the locked front door, past the security panel tha

Save My Son

SOFIA’S POV The taxi driver slammed on the brakes outside the emergency entrance and jumped out before I could even fumble for cash. He yanked the back door open, helped me scoop Renzo from my lap with both arms, and started running. He had seen the despair in my eyes when I called out to Renzo all through the drive here. He had watched a broken mother beg the universe to spare her son. I scrambled after him, my sandals slapping wet concrete, and my heart hammering so hard it drowned out the rain. "Help! Please, my boy isn't waking up!" His voice cracked as he burst through the glass doors, cradling Renzo against his chest like he weighed nothing.Nurses swarmed us almost immediately. Someone took Renzo from the driver, laid him on a gurney, and wheeled him away so fast the wheels squeaked. I tried to follow but a firm hand caught my elbow."Ma'am, you have to wait here. Let them work."I jerked free and lunged toward the swinging doors anyway. Another nurse blocked me, her palms

She’s Alive

ENZO’S POV The jet cut through low clouds above the Mediterranean, engines humming steady while my pulse refused to settle. I sat in the leather seat with my elbows on my knees, staring at the iPad Matteo had handed me twenty minutes earlier. The screen still showed the frozen airport footage: the man with Dante’s build and gait, lighter hair now, walking beside a woman whose face stayed hidden behind scarf and sunglasses, a small boy balanced on her hip. Every time I blinked the image burned behind my eyelids. Matteo sat across from me, laptop open, fingers moving fast. He hadn’t spoken since takeoff. I finally broke the silence. “Anything yet on the background check I asked for?” He looked up, expression careful. “Yes, Capo. I ran everything we have access to, passport records, business registrations, property deeds, and socials. The man in the footage is registered as Riccardo Vatel. He’s been operating under that name for at least six years. He’s been a resident of Monaco all

I Am Not Elena

SOFIA’S POV My palms slapped the observation glass so hard it vibrated. Inside the room Renzo’s tiny body arched off the bed once, twice, his limbs jerked violently, and uncontrolled, while a nurse was already pushing medication into his IV. The chaos in the room sent me into a panic mood. I watched my baby lay there, barely breathing. “Open the door! Let me in—he’s my baby!” I screamed as I tried to go in. A nurse grabbed my wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. “Ma’am, please. You have to stay out here. We’re working on him.” I ripped my arm free and threw myself at the door handle again. Another nurse stepped in front, her palms up like she was calming a wild animal. “He’s seizing badly. We need the space. Please, you need to sit and catch your breath. We’ll come get you the moment it’s safe.” Safe. The word tasted like ash. I staggered backward until my back hit the cold wall and my legs gave out. I slid to the floor, knees drawn tight to my chest, rocking hard enough that my

Remember Me, Elena!

ENZO’S POV She kept shaking her head, her voice cracking higher with every denial. “I’m not Elena. I’m Sofia. Sofia Vatel. You’re wrong. Please let me go.” My grip on her shoulders tightened until I felt the fragile bones shift under my palms. Rage boiled up from somewhere deep, black, and endless. Five years of burying her in my head, five years of whiskey, silence and nights spent staring at her photo until my eyes burned, and here she was—alive, breathing, terrified—and still insisting she belonged to that bastard Dante. Her breathing turned ragged, shallow gasps that made her chest heave too fast. Color drained from her face, her eyes rolled back and she collapsed before I could catch her. I caught her before she hit the floor, scooped her into my arms bridal style, and pressed her against my chest. The doctor stared, his mouth open. The two nurses froze mid-step. “What are you waiting for?” I asked, my voice low and flat. “Start working on the paperwork immediately. We’ve

No More Crying

ENZO’S POV I wiped the last of the tears from my face with the back of my hand and pushed off the wall. No more. The grief could wait. Right now only one thought burned through my veins like acid. Dante. I would find that bastard and I would make him bleed for every mark he had left on her body, every night he had kept her afraid, every breath he had stolen from my son.I straightened my jacket and started down the corridor. Matteo met me halfway, phone already in his hand."Where is he?" I asked.Matteo fell into step beside me. "My guy at Monaco General just called. Dante showed up there twenty minutes ago with four men. He tore through the emergency wing asking about a woman and a boy matching their descriptions. He missed us by less than an hour. They're still searching the floors."I clenched my jaw until it ached. "He knows she's gone. Find his exact location now."Matteo nodded once and turned away, already dialing.I stood alone in the sterile hallway, fists tight at my sides

Whispers of a Forgotten Life

SOFIA’S POV The SUV hugged the sharp curves of the coastal road, engine humming low while the dark sea crashed against the rocks far below. I sat right in the back seat, every muscle tight, eyes fixed on Renzo. He was cradled by this mysterious savior. He cradled him with surprising care, one strong arm supporting the portable monitor and IV bag that kept my son’s fragile vitals steady. His free hand adjusted the blanket around Renzo’s small shoulders whenever the boy shifted, and he checked the numbers on the screen with quick, practiced glances. Something about the way he moved—gentle yet confident—sent a strange warmth through my chest. Fear still sat heavy in my stomach like a stone, but it pointed straight at Riccardo. This man beside me carried a different kind of danger. He felt like safety wrapped in shadows, even though my mind screamed that I should not trust anyone. I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced the first question out. “What’s your name?” He turned his h

Blood and Bait

ENZO’S POV The SUV cut through the dark coastal road while I sat rigid in the back seat. My mind kept circling back to the clinic. Elena had looked straight into my eyes and whispered, “Be safe, Enzo.” She had called me Enzo without hesitation, the old nickname sliding off her tongue like it still belonged there. For one brief moment the years had melted away and she had felt like my wife again. The kiss I pressed to her forehead still warmed my lips, carrying the echo of every quiet morning we once shared. Yet a heavy dread coiled tighter in my gut with every passing mile. Something was wrong, deeply wrong. The feeling pressed on my chest until my breathing hurt. Matteo gripped the wheel, his eyes fixed ahead. He had stayed in the car the entire time at the clinic, keeping the engine running, and being ready for trouble. “Boss,” he said quietly, breaking the silence. “It’s confirmed. Dante was never at the hospital himself, he sent his men instead. He stayed back at Monaco Genera

The Price of Memory

SOFIA’S POV I sat beside Renzo’s bed in the private room, holding his small hand while machines beeped steadily around us. The doctors had stabilized him after the transfer, but my mind refused to settle. Something felt terribly wrong. The feeling gnawed at my chest like a living thing, telling me I should not be here. I should be with Lorenzo. I could not explain it, but the pull grew stronger with every passing minute. Losing him would hurt worse than anything Riccardo had ever done to me, and that truth terrified me more than I could admit. I stood up and paced the small space, unable to sit still. My legs carried me to the door and back again. Renzo needed me, yet every instinct screamed that Lorenzo was walking into something he might not survive. I had to find him. The problem was I had no idea where he had gone or how to reach him. I stepped into the hallway and flagged down the nearest doctor. “Keep a close eye on my son. I will be right back.” The doctor shook his head f

Fragments of Home

SOFIA’S POVI sat hunched in the hard plastic chair outside the ICU, my legs bouncing nonstop while my hands twisted together in my lap. The waiting area smelled of strong coffee and disinfectant, but none of it registered. My mind stayed locked on Lorenzo lying somewhere behind those double doors, pale and bleeding from too many bullet wounds. Renzo rested safely in the pediatric wing with nurses watching over him, yet I could not keep my thoughts from drifting back to the warehouse. The image of Lorenzo collapsing after taking those shots refused to leave me. I rocked forward and back, whispering frantic prayers under my breath. “Please let him live. Please keep him breathing. Do not take him from us now. Not after he came for me and Renzo. Please, God, preserve him. Make him okay.” My entire body trembled. My legs would not stay still. My fingers shook so badly I pressed them between my knees to hide it. I killed a man tonight. I killed Riccardo. The person I had called my husban

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