Chapter16
1009 Words
Elena's POV
The grand jury prep took three hours.
Maya walked us through every question Castellano's defense would throw, every angle they'd use to discredit my testimony. Dante sat beside me the whole time, answering her questions about the parking garage incident, the threats, the timeline. He was sharp, precise, controlled.
By ten PM, Maya called it.
"You're both ready. Don't overthink it. Just tell the truth." She closed her files. "Go home. Sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
The drive back was quiet. Dante stared out the window. I checked my phone. Aiden had texted me three crying emojis because Izzy made him eat broccoli, followed by a row of train emojis that I assumed meant he'd survived.
"You were good in there," Dante said.
"Don't sound so surprised."
"I'm not surprised. I'm impressed. You didn't flinch once."
"I've delivered death notifications to families in trauma bays. A defense lawyer doesn't scare me."
He was quiet for a moment. "Does anything scare you anymore?"
Losing Aiden. Losing myself again. You.
"Lots of things," I said. "I just don't show it."
He accepted that. We rode the rest of the way in silence, and for once it wasn't uncomfortable.
---
Aiden was asleep when we got back. I checked on him, fixed his blanket, stood there longer than I needed to.
Dante appeared in the doorway behind me.
We didn't say anything. We just looked at our son sleeping in a room that hadn't existed a week ago, in a house neither of us planned to share, and let the reality of it settle.
I slipped out first. Dante pulled the door halfway shut.
"Nightcap?" he asked.
"It's late."
"Fifteen minutes. I want to show you something."
I followed him to the far end of the main floor, through a door I hadn't opened yet. It led to a wide glass room, a conservatory, dark except for the city lights bleeding through the panels. He switched on a single lamp in the corner.
"I used to come here when I couldn't sleep," he said. "After the funeral. After everyone stopped checking on me. I'd sit here and just—" He stopped. "It doesn't matter."
"Say it."
He exhaled. "I'd sit here and try to remember your voice. I was losing it. The details. What you sounded like when you laughed. The way you argued with me when you thought I was wrong." He looked at the glass. "Grief does that. Erases things."
I didn't have a response for that. What do you say to a man mourning a version of you that was never fully real?
"I wasn't happy there," I said finally. "But I wasn't miserable every second. There were good moments."
"Name one."
"The night the power went out. We ate cold pasta on the kitchen floor because neither of us knew how to cook and the generator took twenty minutes to kick in." I half-smiled at the memory. "You ate three plates and pretended it was gourmet."
He laughed. A real one. "It was terrible."
"It was terrible," I agreed.
The laughter faded slowly. We were left with something quieter, heavier.
"I should have been better," he said. "I knew how to be. I just chose not to. That's the part I can't forgive myself for."
"You're not supposed to forgive yourself. That's not how it works."
"Then how does it work?"
"You do better. Consistently. Until the people you hurt either trust you again or they don't." I met his eyes. "The forgiving isn't yours to control."
He nodded like he was storing that somewhere.
I stood to leave.
"Elena."
I turned.
"I know we said friends. And I'll respect that." He held my gaze. "But I need you to know I'm not doing any of this—the house, the security, the testimony—because I feel obligated. I'm doing it because you and Aiden are mine to protect. Whether you let me love you again or not."
The words landed somewhere undefended.
I didn't answer. I walked out.
---
I couldn't sleep.
At two in the morning I was in the kitchen, making tea I didn't want, when Lucian appeared. He poured himself coffee, leaned against the counter, and watched me with the expression he always wore when he was about to say something I wouldn't like.
"He doesn't sleep well either," Lucian said. "Since you came back. It's worse."
"I'm not responsible for his sleep."
"No. But you should know that before you came back, he had it handled. Routine, work, control. You showing up broke his system."
"I didn't show up. I was brought in for a surgery."
"Semantics." Lucian drank his coffee. "I didn't trust you when you came back. Thought you were running a play. Taking advantage of him while he was down."
"And now?"
He was quiet for a moment. "Now I think you're just as scared as he is and too stubborn to admit it."
"You don't know me."
"I know people. It's literally my job." He set his mug down. "Castellano's lawyer filed a motion this afternoon to delay the grand jury by two weeks. Maya already pushed back, but it means the threat window is longer. More time for someone to get to you."
My hand stilled on the kettle.
"Warren knows," Lucian continued. "Security's been adjusted. But I wanted to tell you myself because you're not the type to appreciate being kept in the dark."
"No. I'm not."
He nodded once and picked up his mug. "Dante's planning to request a private meeting with the D.A. tomorrow. He thinks he has leverage that Maya doesn't know about. Old information on Castellano from before your marriage." He paused at the doorway. "I thought you should hear it from him. So ask him before he leaves in the morning."
Then he was gone.
I stood in the quiet kitchen, tea forgotten, and thought about leverage and old secrets and how many more buried things were still waiting to surface before this was over.
- Writer
