VITTORIA

The door clicks closed. Lucien’s eyes move to it, but mine remain locked on him. In my hand, I clutch my bag containing the letter my father wrote me and wait for him to look at me.

“Which one are you fucking?”

“Both.”

He’s clearly not expecting honesty but recovers himself quickly and snorts. “Guess it stuck.”

I am momentarily confused but get to the point. “Did you do what they said?”

His eyes are shifty. “What did they say, dear sister?”

I look up at him, at my half brother whom I don’t know. I certainly don’t like or trust him. But could he have done what they’ve accused him of? Is he that much of a monster?

“Their sister,” I say more quietly, not sure I want to know the answer.

His eyebrows rise. “What did they say I did to her?”

“She was fourteen. You were an adult. They said you raped her.”

He shakes his head and looks away momentarily. “She was young, I get that now, but I didn’t rape her. We were in love.”

I’m shocked at his answer. Struck silent for a long moment. “She was fourteen,” I finally say. “You were what? Nineteen? Twenty?” Does he really believe they were in love?

He pushes a hand through his hair, his face growing red.

“Do you really believe that you were in love?” I ask.

He ignores my question and asks another. “You signed away control of your fucking finances? Are you that stupid?”

“I had no choice. Not when you left me in Italy to fend for myself. Did you even try to send anyone after me?”

His right eye twitches. It’s an infinitesimal movement, but I’ve learned to watch my brother closely over the years, and I know what this means. He’s angry because he feels himself losing control. He got that look with dad often when it came to finances or the business.

“You shouldn’t have gone. I told you that.”

“Our father’s last wish was that he be buried in Italian soil where his roots are. It was his dream to go back home one day, you know that.”

“I don’t think he dreamt of going in a fucking box. What did you sign exactly? We can get you out of it, get the marriage annulled. They’re holding you against your will. It’s not the fucking dark ages, for fuck’s sake.”

“I don’t care about the money.”

His eyebrows disappear into his receding hairline. Dad had a full head of hair. He clearly did not pass that gene down to my bother.

“You’d better learn to care if you’d like to see Emma again. I’m taking guardianship of her.”

“You’re not. You can’t. You’re not even blood.”