I exhaled through my teeth and picked up the phone again. The group message thread had blown up while I was dealing with the fallout, and I hadn't even glanced at it. When I opened it, every message was from Chiara. She had been updating the Family's inner circle on her injury, picture after picture, message after message. My jaw tightened as I scrolled through the photos she had sent. They were carefully framed. Every single one featured her and me. I lingered on the worst of them: Chiara lying on the medical cot in the compound's infirmary, her face arranged in an expression of fragile suffering, while I stood over her looking every inch the concerned protector.
I ran a hand through my hair and dropped the phone face-down on the desk.
Everything seemed to be spiraling out of my control, but none of it was my doing. Chiara needed me. My father had sworn a blood oath to her dying mother. I could not simply abandon that debt because of the ceremony. Neve should have understood how sacred the obligations of this Family were. She knew the life. She had always known the life.
Still, the guilt gnawed at me like a rat behind the walls. I had canceled our wedding. Our blood-bound union. For Chiara. And now Neve was furious, and the silence on the other end of that phone call had been the kind of silence that preceded war.
Maybe I could have handled it better. I should have called her first, spoken to her directly, asked for her understanding before making the decision. Or at the very least, I should have explained my reasons face to face instead of sending a message as if the union meant nothing. As if she meant nothing.
But what was done was done, and I had to deal with the fallout.
A knock on the study door pulled me from the spiral.
"Come in."
Ivo stepped through the heavy oak door with his usual measured calm, the kind of composure that had made him invaluable to me since we were boys running through the corridors of this very compound. He closed the door behind him without a sound, lowered himself into the chair across from my desk, and studied me with those sharp, patient eyes. If there was anyone in this world I could count on to help me make sense of this wreckage, it was him. My underboss. My brother in everything but blood.
"Dominic." His voice was low, almost gentle. "I heard what happened."
I leaned forward and pressed my knuckles against my temples.
"Yeah. Neve's furious."
Ivo raised an eyebrow, settling deeper into his chair, one ankle crossing over his knee with the ease of a man who had never lost a moment's sleep in his life.
"Furious at you for fulfilling your obligation?"
His words made me drag a hand down my face.
"I canceled the wedding, Ivo. The blood-bound union. She has every right to be upset."
He shook his head slowly, as though Neve's reaction was something he genuinely could not fathom.
"She might be upset, but you did what you had to do. Chiara was hurt. You're the Don. Your first responsibility is to the Family. That means ensuring every person under this roof is safe, especially when they're injured. Especially when they carry the weight of your father's oath."
"I know that." My voice came out rougher than I intended. "But Neve doesn't see it that way. She thinks I'm choosing Chiara over her."
Ivo's expression softened. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
"Dominic. You didn't choose Chiara over Neve. You chose the Family over everything. That is what being the Boss means. Neve knows that deep down, even if anger is blinding her right now."
I clenched my fists on the desk, the signet ring biting into my finger. Frustration coiled inside my chest like smoke with nowhere to go.
"I know she does. But it feels like I'm losing her, Ivo. I've been so consumed with the Family lately, with Chiara, with every crisis that walks through that door, that I haven't had a moment to breathe, let alone be with her."
"You're not neglecting her." Ivo's tone was firm, certain. "You carry responsibilities that most people will never understand. Neve is upset, sure. But she'll come around. You have always been there for her, and she knows that."
I didn't respond. I turned my head toward the window, where the city lights of Manhattan bled through the bulletproof glass like distant fires. A part of me knew Ivo was right. Neve had always stood by me. Through the wars, through the funerals, through every blood-soaked night that came with this throne. But lately, something between us had shifted. I could feel the distance growing, a silence that had nothing to do with loyalty and everything to do with loneliness.
