My mom shook her head, heartbroken she’d had no idea what I’d been going through.

Alessia’s mouth gaped open, stunned that I wasn’t the perfect angel she always teased me about being. “You knew the whole time? I just learned about the family from Luca. I had no idea.”

“Luca?” I asked, eyes darting to my father.

“He’s a member of the Russo family,” my dad explained.

My head tipped back in a slow nod. “That explains a lot, but I still want to know exactly what happened with Alessia—the truth.”

“I want to hear just how the Russians entered the picture,” Dad said pointedly.

I gave a guilty smile. “Alright, my story first, but I want to hear hers too.”

For the next half hour, I told them about my secret life—about the paintings and Michael. Nico volunteered to unveil what had happened to him and the story of how he’d pushed me away. We took turns, giving explanations and opening up to one another—Nico and I, along with Alessia and my parents.

The process made me feel more connected to my family and loved than I ever had before. There was vulnerability in sharing your secrets, but there was also a tremendous reward. I was trusting them with my truth and was honored when they did the same. The process knitted us together, bonding us in a way simply being related hadn’t.

The only person who was notably silent was Maria. My father admitted that Maria had been a part of the outfit for many years, but Maria offered no further insights into herself. I couldn’t force her to see the benefit of sharing, but I hoped one day she would. It was a tremendous relief to unload those burdens, and I highly doubted she was simply burden-free.

Once we finished our discussion, we enjoyed lunch together, conversation flowing much more naturally than it had at our past family dinners. It was amazing how at ease everyone could be when we weren’t watching every word and attempting to put on a front. I loved my family, and I wanted nothing more than for us to be a close-knit group. Could we maintain the open channels of communication I had initiated?

Only time would tell.

After lunch, Nico took me to the hospital to visit Michael. Seeing the two men together in one room was odd. They represented two vastly different phases of my life—like Scrooge witnessing the ghost of Christmases past, I was unsettled and on edge. Fortunately, Nico was totally at ease, helping to calm me. When we walked in, he went straight to Michael, offering a firm handshake in greeting. I wasn’t sure what all had gone on between the two men in my absence, but their exchange was a far cry from the near brawl at the diner.

“Hey there, handsome, how you feeling?” I asked, giving him a hug and ignoring Nico’s huff behind me.

“A whole lot better now that I see you’re alive and well. You scared the shit outta me.”