The following morning, the private medical center was calm, discreet—the kind of place reserved for men whose names never appeared in police reports and women who never waited in lines. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and fresh lilies.
Nina clung to my arm as if letting go might send her drifting.
“Zachary,” she murmured anxiously, fingers tightening. “Is the baby really alright?”
I kept my voice level, Don-steady. “The doctor confirmed it. No lasting effects from the estate incident.”
Her shoulders loosened. “Thank God. You’ve barely spoken since we arrived. I thought something was wrong.”
Something was.
Avery’s face wouldn’t leave my mind—the way she’d looked at me through smoke and chaos. No panic. No pleading. Just resignation. As if she already knew I wouldn’t choose her.
And the worst part?
She was right.
I hadn’t carried her out.
I’d carried Nina.
---
After lunch, I escorted Nina back to the Sterling estate, handed her over to security, then headed straight for the council hall.
Halfway down the corridor, my assistant caught up with me.
“Don Moretti,” he said quietly, “Sebia has returned from Europe. He’s requesting a full executive briefing with the consiglieri.”
I acknowledged him without slowing, but beneath the composed exterior, something twisted hard in my chest.
Avery was still missing.
She hadn’t appeared at the clinic. She hadn’t returned to the estate. None of the staff had seen her leave. No guards had logged her exit.
She’d disappeared without a trace.
When? How?
Where the hell had she gone?
I lengthened my stride, irritation sharpening into something more uncomfortable. “Arrange for a selection of the newest designer handbags,” I said over my shoulder. “And that custom jewelry set from Milan.”
“For Nina?” my assistant asked automatically.
I stopped.
My jaw tightened. “Send it to the Sterling estate.”
If Avery was anywhere, that was where she’d go.
And if she wasn’t—
I cut the thought off. The unease clawed deeper than I liked.
What if she was hurt?
Still recovering somewhere alone?
What if she had truly left—for good?
---
A week passed.
Just after midnight, I returned to the estate, exhaustion settling into my bones after an endless strategy session. The house was silent. Moonlight spilled through the tall windows, painting the marble floors in silver.
A figure curled on the sofa caught my eye—wrapped in silk, motionless, almost familiar.