Page 145 of Beneath the Shadows

His eyes close for a moment, his face filled with conflict. When he opens them again, there’s a vulnerability there that I’ve rarely seen. “I’m so sorry,tesoro. I failed you.”

I shake my head quickly. “No, Antonio, you didn’t?—”

“I broke my promise,” he cuts me off, pulling his hand back.

“What are you talking about?”

“I promised that if I ever hurt you, I’d let you go.” He looks away, pain twisting his features. “And I broke that promise. You almost died because of me.”

I try to protest, but he continues. “As much as it’s killing me, I have to keep my word. I’ll make sure you and the baby are safe, always. Neither of you will ever want for anything. But I have to let you go.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Stop,” I say, shaking my head.

Tears brim in his eyes, but he says nothing.

“You didn’t hurt me,” I begin softly. “You did everything you could to protect me. You came for me. You saved me.”

His lips part to respond, but I press my fingers gently against them again. “You’re nothing like Val. You’re nothing like my father. They abandoned me. Hurt me. But you?” My voice softens as I lower my hand, resting it over his. “You’ve fought for me. Every single time.”

His breath shudders, and I squeeze his hand, willing him to believe my words. “I love you, Antonio.”

“You love me?” he breathes.

“I’ve never stopped loving you, and I’m not going anywhere. I need you. We need you.”

For a moment, the world stills. Antonio’s eyes search mine, and then his expression softens. His hand cups my cheek. “I love you, Alessia,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion.

His lips find mine in a tender kiss, the weight of everything we’ve been through melts into that one moment. I pour all my love into it, hoping he can feel how much I mean every word.

But just as our lips part, there’s a knock at the door. The spell is broken as one of the guards steps inside, his expression tense. “Mr. Luciano, the police are here. We’ve held them off as long as we could. They’re demanding to speak with you both.”

Panic surges through me at the mention of the police. “Antonio,” I whisper, reaching for his hand.

“Shh,” he soothes, brushing his thumb over my knuckles. “You don’t have to say anything. I’ll handle it.” He turns to the guard. “Is Baldini here?”

“He is,” the guard confirms.

Antonio’s voice hardens with authority. “Send them in, make sure he’s with them.”

Moments later, the door swings open, and two police officers enter, followed by Antonio’s lawyer, Lorenzo Baldini. The tension in the room thickens as they approach the bed, their expressions unreadable.

One of the officers clears his throat, eyes flicking between Antonio and Baldini before he speaks. “We have some questions for Ms. Moretti,” he says, his tone polite but firm. “We’d prefer to speak with her alone.”

Antonio’s jaw tightens instantly. “Absolutely not,” he snaps, his voice sharp. “I’m not leaving her.”

Baldini steps forward, his voice low but firm. “Officers, my client has the right to have legal counsel present during any questioning.”

Before tensions rise further, I speak up, squeezing Antonio’s hand again. “I’m willing to answer your questions,” I say, my voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in my chest. “But both Antonio and our attorney will remain in the room.”

The officers exchange a glance, clearly weighing their options. After a tense moment, the one holding the clipboard nods. “Very well,” he says, conceding. He flips through his notes, then looks back at me. “Can you tell us what happened? Who did this to you?”

Antonio’s fingers are intertwined with mine, a silent promise that he’s with me through this. I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin, finding the poise I was raised to embody. I know exactly what I need to say, and more importantly, what I can’t. In our world, truth is layered, and I’ve learned how to navigate it carefully.

“My father had me abducted from my photography exhibit,” I begin. “I don’t know where they took me. The place was unfamiliar, some kind of warehouse, but my father was there. He… he beat me.” I take a shaky breath. “He was trying to kill me—and my unborn child.”

The officers exchange a glance, scribbling furiously on their notepads. Every word I say is measured, balancing between the truth and the pieces I must leave unsaid. I can’t involve Antonio in this—not more than he already is.

One of the officers looks up, his tone professional but probing. “Do you know where your father is now?”

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