THE DE SANTIS HEIRESS: RECLAIMING THE LIFE THEY STOLE

CHAPTER 2

AURORA'S POV

The private jet descended through a blanket of clouds.

I barely noticed the seatbelt digging into my waist. My gaze remained fixed on the window as patches of green slowly emerged beneath the wings. Vineyards. Endless rows of vineyards stretched across rolling hills kissed by the afternoon sun, my breath caught.

It had been four years, four long years since I had last seen them. My fingers curled instinctively against the armrest. For one reckless second, I almost leaned forward and told the pilot to turn around. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to face the people I had abandoned. I wasn’t ready to walk through the front door I had left without saying goodbye, and most of all… I wasn’t ready to stand in the place where Lorenzo no longer existed.

The ache settled deep inside my chest, my hand drifted to the gold chain around my neck, to the pendant resting warmly against my skin. “I made it this far,” I whispered. “Don’t let me run now.” Almost unconsciously, my other hand moved to my stomach, to the tiny heartbeat underneath, the only reason I had found the strength to board this flight. You’re not alone anymore.

“Miss…”

The gentle voice pulled me from my thoughts to the flight attendant, who smiled politely. “We’ll be landing in five minutes.”

I nodded. “Grazie.”

She offered a sympathetic smile as if she could tell I was scared before quietly retreating. I looked outside again, the vineyards gave way to familiar roads, stone walls, ancient cypress trees, and olive groves. Every mile peeled back another layer of the four years I had spent pretending none of this existed.

I had tried so hard to build another life away from here, another family, another future, and yet… I was returning with divorce papers in my handbag and a child growing beneath my heart. Life sure had a cruel sense of humor.

The aircraft banked gently, and I saw them. Iron gates. Even from the sky they looked imposing. Seconds later, they began to open without any hesitation or security checks, as though everyone inside already knew who was coming home.

My stomach twisted.

The jet touched down with barely a tremor, silence settled over the cabin as I remained seated, staring at the closed cabin door. If I didn’t move… none of this would become real. The click of the handle echoed through the cabin as the door swung open and warm Italian air drifted inside. It smelled of earth, of fresh grass, of home. I closed my eyes. “I can do this.”

The stairs unfolded. Slowly, I stood, each step down heavier than the last, by the time my heels touched the tarmac, my heartbeat thundered so loudly I barely noticed the wind tugging at my coat. A black sedan waited several yards away, and beside it stood two figures. One tall. One slender. They didn't move. My vision blurred even from this distance… I knew them.

My mother’s hands were clasped tightly together, as though she was afraid to let herself hope, while my father stood straight beside her, impeccably dressed, and motionless, only the tightening of his jaw betrayed the emotion he fought to contain.

I forgot how to breathe. It had been four years too long.

I had rehearsed this moment a thousand times, but none of those rehearsals prepared me for the sight of them growing older.

Because of time. Because of grief. Because of me.

The bag slipped from my hand, neither I nor my parents moved, an ocean of guilt stretched between us. Then… my mother’s composure shattered. She took one hesitant step forward. Then another. Then she was running.

“Mia bambina…” My baby girl.

At her endearment, my own feet finally moved, meeting her halfway. The impact nearly knocked the breath from my lungs as she wrapped both arms around me.

“My baby…” her voice broke completely.

“My beautiful girl…”

I buried my face against her shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender, the warmth I had spent four years convincing myself I no longer deserved.

“I’m sorry…” The words came out broken. “I’m so… so sorry…”

She only held me tighter. “No," she shook her head against my hair. “No apologies,” I could tell she was crying now. “You’re here. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I left you.”

“You came back.”

“But I disappeared.”

“You came back.”

“I should never have…”

“You came back. Aurora. That’s all that matters.” Each sentence was answered the same way, until I couldn’t speak anymore, until I had no argument left in me. Behind us… A pair of polished shoes stopped a respectful distance away. I looked up at my father. There were more lines on his face than I remembered, more silver in his hair, but the quiet strength I had relied on throughout my childhood was still there. I swallowed hard.

“Papà…” His jaw tightened. For a long moment, he simply looked at me, as though reassuring himself I wasn’t another dream that would disappear the moment he reached for me. Then he gave a single nod.

“Stellina.”

A choked sob burst out as he opened his arms. I crossed the distance between us. His embrace was firm, steady, safe. He rested one hand against the back of my head exactly as he had when I was little.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured.

The words undid what little composure I had left and I broke down in tears. Not the quiet, bitter tears I had shed in New York. These were years of grief, years of regret, years of loneliness, finally finding somewhere they were allowed to exist. When I finally stepped back, neither of us rushed to speak, there was no need to, some silences carried more love than words ever could.

“I expected your anger,” I finally broke the silence.

“Anger?” He shook his head. “No bambina. Everyone mourns differently. I only wish you hadn’t done it alone.”

“I thought it was for the best. That staying away would make it easier for you all. It was my fault… so I banished myself. I’m so sorry, Papà.”

“It was never your fault, Aurora, but you're here now, that's all that matters.” He reached up and brushed a tear from my cheek. “Let's go home.”

I nodded.

Together, we turned toward the waiting car. As it rolled through the open gates, I looked out the windows at it all. At the uniformed guards who stood at attention, at the gardeners who paused their work, as several members of the household staff watched quietly from the entrance of the sprawling estate. No one spoke. No one smiled. They simply watched. Waiting. The car came to a smooth stop beneath the grand portico. I stared at the towering white-stone villa before me.

It hadn’t changed. Only I had.

The driver hurried around to open my door as I stepped out. The household staff stood in two perfect lines at the entrance, an elderly butler stepped forward, bowing respectfully.

“Welcome home…” He looked up, emotion shining in eyes far older than I remembered. “…Signorina Aurora Inez De Santis.”

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then, as though four years had never passed, every member of the household bowed.

“Welcome home, Signorina.”

I felt something inside me c***k. I had spent four years searching for a place to call home, I hadn’t realized it had been waiting for me all along. It had taken four years, but I found my way back eventually. Now there would be no more running in my life, I would face whatever life throws at me, head on. Like a De Santis should.