The Heir

Chapter 56

Dad took our phones the second we got on the jet. Turned them off and put them in a lock box. Something about trackers or bugs. And I complied, we all did.

The flight was painfully uncomfortable. I can't possibly describe how Enzo is right now. He has this glaze over his eyes like he's not quite here. And he's been repeating himself quietly. Over and over like it's some kind of mantra.

Dad made Ryan sit down and tell him what happened. Apparently it wasn't too hard to get to me. Rome was too cocky to truly guard that warehouse and was looking forward to confronting my dad. Ryan explained the internship too, how I was able to hide everything, and Dad eased up on him a bit.

Gio kept himself positioned between Ryan and my father nonetheless. He knows better than anyone the kind of rage that my father is capable of. So he did his best to protect Ry.

Everyone was waiting when we arrived at the compound. And I mean everyone.

Charlie was a sobbing mess and clutched onto Ryan like her life depended on it. But she wouldn't let Rocco anywhere near them. I guess he finally had to tell her the truth.

Aunt Rosa swiftly took Enzo away, speaking in a calming tone. Apparently she's dealt with this kind of blowback before. When Uncle Antonio was young and made his first kill.

My sisters and cousins watched on in a combination of confusion and horror. I'm not sure the extent to which they've been informed of the situation. But the need for all of us to be at the compound is concerning, even for them.

God bless my mother.

My dad's worry was slowly turning into anger. Anger at the Russians. Anger at Ryan. Anger at me. He stormed off to the office with Gio and Rocco not too far behind.

My mom whisked me away to the room I use when I stay here. It's still juvenile in nature; hasn't been redecorated in years. But it offers a sense of comfort I didn't know I needed.

"Tesoro," she breathes out, taking my hands in hers. "What happened?"

"I fucked up," I shrug. The same answer I keep repeating. Because I did. I really, really fucked up.

"I don't care about that," she insists. "I don't care how or why or who. The only thing I care about right now is you."

Hesitantly, I look her in the eye, "you're not mad at me?"

"I could never be mad at you," she says firmly. "We all make mistakes, it's okay."

"You don't make mistakes," I mutter.

"I have made many mistakes, Elle," she informs me. "But that's not what I care about. Tell me what happened."

"I was trying to end things," I begin to explain. "So I went to the internship to talk to him. I even brought my gun just incase."

Mom gives a sympathetic smile and rubs her thumb against my hand.

"He was too strong," tears begin to well in my eyes. "He pinned me before I could do anything. And then he..."

I trail off as I reach for the back of my head. I ended up needing seventeen stitches from the blows to the head. They're covered by a thick layer of gauze.

"It's okay," Mom says softly. "Take your time."

"He hit my head against the wall until I couldn't even see," I bite down on my lip in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. "And he took me to this warehouse. He didn't stop talking the whole time. On and on about how Dad needs to die. About how I was more useless than he had thought."