Chapter 2
No one spoke.
You could hear a pin drop.
Vincent didn’t blink. He just waited. His gaze moved slowly from James, to Sophia, to his parents.
Every single one of them looked down. Ashamed. Terrified.
I stood there, frozen.
Twenty-three years. I’d spent my whole life thinking I had no one.
And now the most feared man in the country was standing here, calling me his daughter.
“Answer me,” Vincent said. His voice didn’t rise, but it carried enough weight to crush them all.
James stepped forward, trying to regain some control.
“Mr. Gallo—sir—there’s been a misunderstanding,” he stammered.
Vincent’s hand shot out. Grabbed James by the jaw.
Hard.
“I don’t recall asking you to speak,” he said.
James went pale. He couldn’t even breathe, let alone pull away.
Vincent released him with a shove. James stumbled back, nearly falling into his chair.
Vincent turned back to me. His expression softened instantly.
“Emily,” he said gently. “Is this how they’ve treated you? All this time?”
My throat tightened. I nodded. I couldn’t find words.
He reached out, took my shaking hand in his. His grip was warm and steady.
“Not anymore,” he said. “No one will ever hurt you again. Do you understand?”
I nodded again. Tears finally spilled over. This time, I didn’t try to stop them.
Vincent turned to the doorway.
“Bring the car around,” he said. “And have someone collect every single thing belonging to my daughter. Everything.”
Two large men in suits stepped forward.
“Mr. Thompson,” Vincent said, looking at James’s father. “You will not contact my daughter. You will not come near her. And you will be grateful I’m feeling generous tonight.”
He paused. His eyes swept over them all.
“If I hear that any of you have spoken a single word about her, or laid a foot in her path… you will regret it. Deeply.”
No one dared reply.
Vincent wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
“Come, Emily,” he said. “Let’s get you away from these people.”
I looked back once.
James stood with Sophia, face pale, eyes wide. His parents looked defeated, shrinking into themselves.
I felt nothing. No love. No regret. Just emptiness. And a strange, quiet hope.
I walked out of that house beside Vincent.
Twenty black SUVs lined the street. Men stood at attention, eyes forward.
He opened the rear door for me. Helped me in like I was something precious.
As we pulled away, I watched the mansion disappear behind us.
“Where are we going?” I asked quietly.
May you like
He looked at me. A sad, gentle smile touched his lips.
“Home, Emily,” he said. “To your real home. Where you should have been all along.”
