“You hid,” she says, cold and certain. “You weren’t protecting me. You were hiding behind me.”
“You were being watched,” he insists. “Getting close would’ve brought them down on you.”
“Watching her from the shadows brought them anyway,” I say quietly.
He looks at me, then back at her. “I knew what would happen if I stepped into the light.”
“You don’t get to say that like it’s noble,” she snaps. “You left me to bury her. You left me to grow up in a house where her blood never dried.”
Enzo looks down at the floor. “I did what I thought I had to.”
“No,” she says sharply. “You did what was easiest to survive.”
The silence that follows stretches too long.
He looks up at her, his eyes unreadable. “You think it was easy? Watching her die, knowing you’d blame me for the rest of your life?”
“I don’t blame you,” she says, voice barely audible. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
She turns her back to him.
Enzo looks at me.
“You care for her,” he says carefully.
“She’s not yours to talk about,” I reply, stepping closer to her.
“She’s mine by blood,” he says, quieter.
“She’s mine by fire,” I reply without thinking.
Sylvara stiffens. Doesn’t correct me.
Enzo looks away.
She turns to a nearby shelf and pulls a folder off the top. She flips it open—eyes scanning. Then another. Then a third.
“You’ve tracked all of them,” she says. “Rizzi’s lieutenants. His offshoots. Even Gia.”
“I had to know where they were,” he says. “In case the time ever came.”
“Time came years ago,” she says. “You missed it.”
“I never stopped planning,” he replies.
“You just stopped acting,” she says.
Enzo shifts. “If I’d moved too soon—”
“You already lost us,” she says flatly. “You had nothing left to protect.”
Her hand slides over the folder. Then she closes it.
“I came here to see the man I used to believe in,” she says. “Now I’m not sure if I miss him… or if I imagined him.”
Enzo’s face breaks, just for a second. He turns away like he can hide it.
“I never stopped being your father,” he says quietly.