Chapter 105

ROSALIND

I cradle my baby in bed, something I wasn't allowed to do when she was born. Miranda smells of orange blossoms and vanilla, scents that I will cherish for the rest of my life. After nearly losing my daughter, I will never let her go.

Last night was a blur. My thoughts were already clouded with the all-consuming concern for Cesare and Miranda. I forced back my water phobia to cross the marina, only to find Matteo still standing, and it was like a punch to the heart.

Knowing he was on the same boat as Miranda sent my mind into a tailspin. Gunshots rang out before I could even scream, and Matteo fell backward into the sea. Seconds later, Cesare emerged from the boat's interior and spat on his floating body.

I couldn't even feel relief that he was finally dead until Miranda rushed to his side. It was only when Cesare pulled her into a hug and shielded her eyes that I could finally exhale.

She broke away from Cesare and cried in my arms, and the whole world disappeared. It was just me, my baby, and Cesare standing together in our little bubble.

We left Benito and the others to harpoon Matteo's corpse and drove straight back to the mansion. Miranda was too exhausted and stunned to talk about her ordeal, so we let her sleep. Now that she's stirring, she's going to want some answers.

"Are you awake, baby?" I whisper.

She pulls back from my embrace, her eyes still half-lidded. "Yeah," she says with a shudder. She swallows hard, her breath quickening as if she's reliving last night's horrors. "It feels like I've woken up from a nightmare."

My throat tightens. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

She shakes her head, her eyes squeezing shut. "He was nice during the school trip. I thought he was a member of staff I hadn't met. I feel so stupid."

"It's okay, baby." I rub soothing circles on her back. "You weren't to know he was an imposter. But please tell me if he did something to you."

She exhales a shaky breath. "He just tied me up and said a lot of things about you. Are they true?"

Dread coils in my stomach and winds its way around my chest. There's no Cesare here to act as go-between or smooth over the bitterness of the truth. Every cowardly instinct screams at me to wait for his return, but Miranda gazes at me through pleading eyes.

Stop.

I've faced my worst fears—Matteo and the risk of harm coming to Miranda. It's time to stop delaying the truth.

"What did Gunther say?" I ask.

"That he recruited you when you were my age," she says, her voice flat. "And he trained you as an assassin."

"What else?" I ask, my chest squeezing so tightly that I can barely form the words.

"He says you were his best student and you murdered lots of people for money." She pauses, her huge eyes searching mine. "Is that true?"

My mouth dries, and I swallow back the lump in my throat. Her gaze burns through mine with a desperation that clutches my heart.

"Yes," I murmur. "I met him at an academy in New Jersey with Britt. We were both outsiders whose families didn't want us home for the holidays. Gunther offered me something I desperately needed at the time."

"But why would you agree to be an assassin?"

"There was someone I wanted to kill."

"Our parents?" she rasps, her head bowing.

"It's complicated."

"How?"

"How much do you remember from the time before I took you away?"

She shakes her head. "Not much."

"That woman I killed was…" I inhale, forcing down a surge of emotion. "Long before you were born, it was just me and my mother. My birth father died, and she married a very dangerous man."

Miranda's eyes widen, her lips parting. "So, we're not full sisters?"

"No." My throat thickens.

"That man was a monster. He liked…" I turn my head to the ceiling, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. "He was an abuser."

"Like a groomer?" she whispers.

"Yes," I say, my voice barely audible.

This is excruciating. I wanted to protect Miranda from my trauma. She's too young to be burdened with the gruesome reality of the past, but after last night, she deserves to know the truth.

"So, you became an assassin to kill him?" she asks, her voice trembling.

"Yes… No." I gulp. "Miri, I don't know how to say it."

"Just say the word," she says, her hands reaching to squeeze mine.

Miranda's grip on me is the only thing anchoring me to the present, but the weight of my secret pushes down on my chest like a boulder. I force in a deep breath through trembling lips.

"My mother didn't want to listen when I told her about the abuse. She had finally found a man to take care of us and wasn't going to let anything stand in her way."

"And that's why you killed her?" Miranda asks.

I squeeze my eyes shut, loosening tears that roll down my cheeks. It would be easy to end the conversation and say yes. To let Miranda believe I took out her parents on a revenge quest, but she deserves to know the truth.

"Rosa?"

"He got me pregnant," I say on an exhale. "Nobody listened to me, but when I started to show, they locked me away."

"Oh my god," she shrieks. "Did you have the baby?"

"Yes," I sob.

She throws her arms around my neck and hugs me tight. "Rosa, I'm so sorry. I wouldn't have given you such a hard time if I'd known they were so evil."

It hasn't registered. Not through her words of comfort. Not through her sympathetic tears. Not through her assurances that she'll help me find the baby.

"Miri—"

"Was it a girl or a boy?" she asks.

"Miri, stop," I rasp.

She pulls back, and stares at me though wide, tear-filled eyes. Several heartbeats pass before she says, "Rosa?"

"The baby was you, Miri."

The room falls silent, and her eyes round with shock. Color leeches from her pretty features, and her grip on my hands falls loose. She tries to speak, but all that escapes her lips are a pained moan.

"Miri?"

She breathes hard, her chest rising and falling with panicked breaths. Every fear I had of telling her the truth rises to the surface. She's too young, too delicate, too vulnerable to handle such a terrible revelation.

Her eyes dart from side to side as she backs toward the edge of the mattress, her features etched with horror.

"Please say something." My voice cracks.

"No… You can't. You're too young."

"I'm sorry, baby," I say.

"Why are you apologizing for something that wasn't even your fault?"

"Because you deserve better," I say with a sigh.

Her face crumples. "Who was my father?"

My tongue darts out to lick my lips. "His name was Matteo Galliano. The second-in-command of a large crime family."

"Okay," she says, with a nod. "He got what he deserved and died in a burst of flames."

I wince. "He survived."

"What?"

"He's the man who boarded the boat last night."

"That creepy old guy Cesare killed?"

I nod.

"Oh, god. How can you even look at me?" she cries, her delicate features contorting with pain.

"Because you're the only good thing in my life. I love you so much." I pull her into a hug. She struggles at first, but I hold her tight, wanting to convey that I don't blame her for the sins of her father.

"But you have Cesare," she wails.

"True," I murmur into her hair. "But I've had you for much, much longer. You're what gave me the strength to carry on, even at the worst of times. "When I sat in that horrible room, having you growing inside me was my only source of light."

Pulling back, she gazes at me through red-rimmed eyes. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Because you were too young to know," I say with a sigh.

"Do you hate me?" she whispers.

"Never," I rasp.

She blinks away a tear. "Does Cesare know?"

I nod.

She chews on her bottom lip, her eyes growing distant. "Last night, that man called him son."

"That's right"

She blinks, her eyes sparkling. "So, you're my real mom and he's really my brother?"

A laugh bubbles up in my chest. "Yes."

"Is he angry?"

"Of course not." I cup her cheeks. "Cesare already sees you as a little sister."

"Are you sure?" she asks in a small voice.

A knock sounds on the door.

"Why don't you ask him for yourself?"