Chapter 8
The bright, cinematic sunlight began to shift, casting long, golden shadows across the bridal suite. Evelyn clung to Raffaele’s tailored jacket, her breathing slowly evening out as the reality of her rescue began to set in.
"I need water," Evelyn whispered, her throat raw and parched.
"Of course," Raffaele said immediately. He stood up and looked toward the hallway. "Anna."
The young maid stepped hesitantly back into the room, having left Ethan safely secured with another guard down the hall. Her professional maid uniform was slightly wrinkled, and her rosy cheeks were stained with tears, but she moved quickly to the small refreshment cart in the corner of the suite. She poured a glass of bottled water with trembling hands and brought it over.
"Here, miss," Anna said softly, her American accent thick with sympathy as she handed the glass to Evelyn.
"Thank you," Evelyn rasped, taking the glass with shaking, pale hands. She drank slowly, the cool water a desperate relief.
Raffaele watched her, his sharp, intimidating eyes taking in every detail of her suffering. The torn, yellowed wedding dress, the dirt on her skin, the fragile way she held the glass. Every ounce of her pain was a debt that the Castellano family owed him. And he would collect it in blood.
"Boss," the lead bodyguard said quietly, stepping forward. "The elders are gathering in the main dining hall for the family meeting. They expect you to address the new port acquisitions."
"They expect a businessman," Raffaele murmured softly, his gaze locked on Evelyn. "They will receive a butcher."
Evelyn lowered the glass, looking up at the man she had almost married. He was different now. The three years had hardened him. The charming, romantic man she remembered was buried beneath a thick armor of ruthless authority. But as he looked at her, she still saw the devotion in his eyes.
"Raffaele," Evelyn whispered, reaching out to touch his heavily tattooed hand. "Ethan. The little boy... he called you Dad."
Raffaele stiffened slightly. It was the one complication he dreaded explaining. He knelt back down, taking her hand in his.
"When you disappeared," Raffaele explained, his voice low and deliberate, "the family demanded I secure the bloodline. They forced an arrangement. A brief union to produce an heir."
Evelyn’s eyes welled with fresh tears, the reality of the lost time crashing over her. "You moved on."
"I never moved on," Raffaele corrected firmly, his grip tightening gently on her fingers. "The mother is gone. She was paid and exiled the moment Ethan was born. I raised him alone. I raised him in the shadow of your memory."
Evelyn looked at the floorboards, where faint, muffled weeping could still be heard from Bianca. "She stole my life."
"And I will steal hers," Raffaele promised, his voice cold and measured. He stood up, turning his attention to Anna. "Draw a hot bath in my private quarters. Lay out fresh clothes. Help her wash. Do not leave her side."
"Yes, Mr. Castellano," Anna nodded quickly, stepping forward to gently assist Evelyn to her feet.
As Evelyn leaned heavily on the young maid, she looked back at Raffaele. "What are you going to do?"
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Raffaele adjusted his cuffs, his angular face set into a mask of terrifying, lethal calm.
"I am going to attend a family meeting," Raffaele whispered.
