Turning Point||Book 2

15. Romano.

As the echoes of our scalding dialogues faded into the stillness of the room, I found myself engulfed in a storm of feelings. Anger, disappointment, and betrayal found their roots in my veins, each feeling vying for dominance.

Her words lingered in my mind, cutting deeper than any physical blow. The revelation that Xenia had betrayed me for mere compensation left me reeling. I had hoped for a nobler motive, perhaps a desire for vengeance, but the truth was a bitter pill to swallow.

I paced the room, the tension coiling tighter with each step. Questions revolved in my mind, they demanded answers that seemed elusive.

How could she betray me like this?

How could she choose money over loyalty, over trust?

But beneath the anger and hurt, there lurked a faint flare of longing. Despite everything, a part of me yearned to hold her close, to erase the distance that had grown between us. I wanted to understand, to find a way back to the connection we once shared.

Sinking into a chair, I ran a hand through my hair, frustration knotting my brow.

Xenia dared to speak, her voice cutting through the heavy silence like a blade. As she swept the bills off the bed, watching them crumble to the floor without a second thought, I felt a pang of surprise. For someone who had chosen money over loyalty, I had expected her to scramble to collect every last note. Yet, she seemed more concerned about my impressions than her own gains.

She cared enough to ask, "And what's the third question, Romano?"

My head throbbed with frustration, my palms slick with sweat, but amidst the turmoil, I found the courage to speak. "What happened with Joanna?"

Xenia's composure shattered at that point. As tears streamed down her face, her sobs echoed through the room. Part of me wanted to close the distance between us, to offer comfort without minding the animosity that lingered. But I remained rooted to my seat, watching her anguish unfold, unable to bridge the divide that had grown between us.

As Xenia faced the wall, her tears mingling with the rough texture of the bricks, each strike against it echoed with a fifty-fifty mix of pain and fury. Momentarily, I concluded that Joanna had met a grim fate.

The weight of grief was foreign to me; just a day prior, I had ended my father's life, yet I suspected my sorrow paled in comparison to Xenia's, who had lost her twin months earlier.

I stood there, witnessing her anguish, feeling utterly powerless in the face of her raw emotions. The comforting gestures I once knew felt inadequate now, overshadowed by doubt and uncertainty.

"Did she die?" I managed to choke out, even though my voice was thick with emotion. Xenia shook her head, tears still streaming down her face.

"She's in a persistent vegetative state." Her teary eyes met mine at last. In that moment, I felt a profound sense of brokenness. "I blamed you, Romano. Blamed every damn member of the TIF. Because if she hadn't tried to save me from Ivan's relentless pursuit, she'd still be alive."

I could only manage a single phrase, "I'm sorry you had to go through that," but it echoed with every ounce of sincerity I could muster. Regret flooded me like a crashing wave; I wished I had been there to shield her from pain, to care for her, to provide and protect.

Stepping closer, my fear melted away, replaced by determination.

With a newfound audacity, my hand found her shoulder, tentative yet steady. Surprisingly, she didn't shrug me off, so I dared to turn her around, locking eyes with her dilated gaze.

"The money was meant as recompense for all I'd endured. Enough to keep Joanna cared for in the facility."

The realization struck me like a blow to the gut. I had underestimated her, presuming she would squander the money on frivolous luxuries. But Xenia wasn't that kind of woman, and the fact that I had lost sight of that in the passing months filled me with shame.