Page 126 of Ruined By Blood
Enzo lifts my chin, eyes serious. "You will always have choices with me, Sienna. Always."
The doorbell rings downstairs, breaking our moment.
"That'll be your mother," he says softly.
I take a deep breath, push thoughts of Henry away, and prepare to face the future instead of the past.
I rush down the stairs, my heart racing as I spot my mother standing in the foyer. She looks different than she did at the mansion – more alive somehow. She's wearing a simple blue dress that brings out her eyes, and her hair falls in soft waves around her face.
"Mom!" I call out, unable to contain my excitement.
She turns, her face lighting up as she opens her arms. I crash into her embrace, breathing in her familiar scent. For a moment, we just hold each other, neither of us speaking. I feel her trembling slightly against me.
"You look wonderful," she whispers, pulling back to study my face. "There's color in your cheeks."
"So do you," I say, noticing how the haunted look in her eyes has diminished. "How are things at the house?"
"Nearly finished. The realtor thinks we'll have offers by next week." She squeezes my hands. "But let's not talk about that tonight."
Enzo appears beside us. "Mrs. Sterling, welcome to our home."
"Please, call me Charlotte," my mother says with a small smile. "I'm reclaiming my maiden name. Sterling was never truly mine."
Enzo nods respectfully. "Charlotte. Dinner is ready whenever you are."
He leads us through to the dining room, where Lucrezia, Zoe, and Damiano are already seated. The table is beautifully set with candles and fresh flowers, and delicious aromas fill the air.
"Charlotte, this is my brother Damiano and his wife Zoe," Enzo introduces. "And you've already met my sister Lucrezia."
My mother smiles warmly. "Thank you all for having me."
"We're thrilled you could join us," Lucrezia says, gesturing to the seat beside her. "Come sit by me. I've been dying to talk to you about your art collection. Sienna mentioned you used to paint?"
My mother's eyes widen in surprise as she takes her seat. "Yes, many years ago. How did you know?"
"Sienna has your eye for color," Lucrezia says. "You should see what she created in my studio."
As they launch into conversation about painting techniques, Ettore emerges from the kitchen carrying a large platter.
"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have osso buco with saffron risotto," he announces proudly, setting the dish in the center of the table. "And for the antipasti, burrata with heirloom tomatoes and basil."
"It smells incredible, Ettore," I say, my mouth already watering.
As Ettore serves, Zoe leans across the table toward my mother. "Charlotte, Sienna tells me you're a classical music lover. Any favorite composers?"
"Chopin," my mother answers without hesitation. "His nocturnes saved my sanity during... difficult times."
"We have a piano in the music room," Zoe says. "Perhaps you'd play for us sometime?"
I watch my mother's face light up at Zoe's invitation to play piano. For a moment, I see the woman she was before Henry – cultured, passionate, alive.
"I'd love that," she says softly. "Though I'm terribly out of practice."
"The piano won't mind," Damiano says with unexpected gentleness. His eyes meet mine across the table. "This house needs more music."
Ettore fills our wine glasses – except Zoe's, who getssparkling water for the baby – and returns to the kitchen. The conversation flows easily as we eat, jumping from music to books to travel. With each passing minute, I feel something unfamiliar expanding in my chest. It takes me a while to recognize it as hope.
"Sienna mentioned she has never been to the beach," Enzo says, his hand finding mine under the table. "We should remedy that soon."
