Page 73 of Blood Heir

I step into the hidden door behind my office bookshelf. The old latch clicks open, and I walk into the room lit by the dim glow of the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

I light the candle before the box and kneel, lowering my head. My voice breaks through the quiet.

“Mother, I never imagined I would stand here like this.”

The flame flickers as if answering me.

“You suffered so much because of him. Because of this life. And now here I am, repeating his sins while pretending I’m better.”

I inhale deeply, the scent of wax and old wood filling my lungs. My chest tightens, but I keep speaking.

“Fioretta... she was just a pawn, like you were once. Like I was. But I can’t lose her. I won’t let them take her from me too.”

The words catch in my throat for a moment. My voice drops lower, thick with quiet desperation.

“I am willing to do right by her this time. I love her. And this time, I will fight for her. Against anyone.”

I stare into my mother’s painted eyes, as though seeking her blessing. The heaviness eases, if only slightly.

I sit there for a while, breathing, letting the silence wrap around me. My mind drifts to what’s coming—the council meetings, Vittoria’s rage, the Families, the blood that may still be spilled.

But I’ve made my choice.

Finally, I rise and snuff out the candle. My fingers brush lightly over the box one last time before I leave, closing the hidden door behind me.

step out from the shadows of my mother’s shrine, the candlelight still flickering behind me. Her painted eyes follow me as I close the door softly. My steps feel lighter. For once, I feel like I am not lying to myself.

When I enter my bedroom, I freeze for a second.

There she is—Fioretta. Lying on my bed, wrapped lazily in the sheets like she belongs there. Like she always belonged there. Her long legs are folded, one arm behind her head, herhair loose and messy around her face. She’s watching me with that little smirk she’s perfected.

“Don’t look so shocked,” she says with that sharp-edged playfulness, her voice soft but cutting through the air. “I missed you.”

I chuckle under my breath, sliding off my jacket. “You’re full of surprises tonight.”

She shifts slightly, making space for me. I sit on the edge of the bed, and she slides closer, pressing her shoulder lightly against mine. The warmth of her skin seeps through my shirt, unsettling me in a way that’s far too familiar.

I lean back, resting against the headboard, and she follows, curling into my side like she’s done it a hundred times. My arm wraps around her instinctively, and for a moment neither of us says anything. Just her steady breathing. Her scent. The simple, terrifying comfort of having her this close.

Then she breaks the silence.

“Did you ever love me even a little bit?”

Her voice is quieter now, but there’s weight in it. Something raw. Something real.

I close my eyes for a beat, breathing her in. The question digs into my chest like a blade. She doesn’t know how much. How badly. How long. She doesn’t know I’ve loved her far before I was ever brave enough to admit it.

I turn my face toward hers, meeting her gaze. Those hazel eyes lock on mine, and they’re full of things unsaid.

“I’m horrible with words,” I murmur, my thumb brushing lightly along her jaw, “and worse with my actions. But I can show you.”

Her lips part, and for a second she’s utterly still, like she’s weighing whether to believe me. Then that guarded smile blooms on her face. A smile that belongs only to me.

Without a word, she leans in and presses her lips to mine.

Not desperate like before. This time, it’s something else. Like we’re both trying to rewrite every bitter page we’ve already lived.

I pull her closer, deepening the kiss, my fingers tangling in her hair.

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