Chapter 212
KATYA POV
My pulse thundered in my ears as I forced myself to stay still, to keep my expression neutral.
Nonna frowned slightly. "Now?" she asked. "She’s just co in."
"Yes," Antonio said calmly. "He asked specifically for her. This morning."
Nonna glanced at then, really looked at , as if asuring how much I could take. Her fingers curled lightly around the armrest of her wheelchair.
"Is it urgent?" she pressed.
Antonio paused for half a second. "He didn’t say," he answered. "But you know Roo."
I swallowed hard.
Nonna sighed, the sound full of reluctant acceptance. "Very well," she said at last, turning to . Her hand reached out, squeezing mine once, gently. "Go, mia cara."
Her eyes softened. "And don’t be afraid."Easy for her to say, she doesn’t know what had happened between and her devil’s grandson.
I nodded, even though my chest felt tight and hollow all at once. "Okay," I murmured, pushing myself carefully off the bed.
As I straightened, my legs felt unsteady, like they didn’t quite belong to anymore.
Antonio stepped aside, opening the door wider. "This way," he said, he wasn’t that harsh to like before.
I took one last look at Nonna—at the warmth in her eyes, at the words she hadn’t gotten to finish—then turned and followed Antonio out into the hallway.
With every step away from her room, my heartbeat grew louder. Roo was waiting.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chi that sounded far too loud in the hallway. Mr Antonio stepped in first.
I followed, hesitating just a fraction of a second before crossing the threshold, as if the space itself might swallow whole.
The doors closed. Silence pressed in imdiately. Thick. Watchful.
I leaned back against the cool tal wall without aning to, my shoulders sagging just slightly as if my body needed the support.
The hum of the elevator began, low and steady beneath my feet.
For a mont, neither of us spoke. Then Mr. Antonio turned.
He was standing closer to the control panel, broad shoulders blocking half the space, but his attention was on now.
I straightened at once, pushing myself off the wall as if caught doing sothing wrong. My gaze dropped instinctively, fixing on the floor between us.
Why is he looking at like that? The question clawed through my thoughts. sudden.
Did Roo tell him? My throat tightened.
Did he tell him about the basent? About the kiss?
The idea made heat rush up my neck, panic flaring beneath my skin. Maybe he had seen it. Maybe he’d been watching through those damned caras. Maybe everyone knew already.
My hands curled into fists at my sides.
Don’t look at him, I told myself. Don’t give anything away.
The elevator continued its slow ascent, each second stretching unbearably long. I could feel Antonio’s gaze still on , heavy without being aggressive, and that sohow made it worse.
Say sothing, I thought wildly. Or don’t. Just... stop looking at like that.
Finally, he turned back toward the front with a sigh. "I’m sorry," The words were so unexpected that my mind stumbled over them.
Sorry? For looking at just now like a creep?My heart skipped, then began pounding harder, like it was trying to outrun the thought.
I didn’t lift my head. I didn’t answer. I wasn’t even sure I’d heard him right. Mr. Antonio didn’t turn to face when he spoke again. His eyes stayed fixed on the glowing numbers above the door.
"I should have said it earlier," he continued, his voice low, controlled. "For how I treated you." My fingers twitched at my sides.
Treated how?
As if the answer hadn’t already burned itself into my mory. "For seeing you as a problem," he said evenly. "For the way I handled you that night." A pause. "For the cuffs."
The word landed heavier than the rest.
My breath caught in my throat.
That night flashed behind my eyes—cold tal biting into my wrists, the way he’d looked at like I was nothing but a complication to be restrained and moved out of the way.
I said nothing. What was I supposed to say to that? The elevator humd on, indifferent, carrying us upward while my thoughts spiraled.
Why now?
Did Roo make him do this?
The idea sent a strange ripple through my chest—not relief, not comfort, just more confusion.
If Roo had told him to apologize, what did that an? Why would he care enough to correct it?
I kept my eyes down, my lips pressed together. If I opened my mouth, I wasn’t sure what would co out—gratitude, anger, or sothing sharp and ugly I didn’t want to show.
"I don’t expect anything from you," Antonio said quietly. "No forgiveness. No response. I an, you have been through a lot to forgive so easily."
I froze completely.
"Huh?" The sound slipped out before I could stop it—small, confused, almost stupid in the quiet space.
Mr. Antonio glanced at from the corner of his eye. I hated that my chest felt tight. That my thoughts were suddenly too loud.
What I’ve been through?
He says it like he knows. Like he understands.
He didn’t turn fully toward when he spoke again. His voice stayed level, but sothing in it had shifted—less authority, more restraint.
"Your family," he said. "Who they were. What they did." A brief pause. "I shouldn’t have assud you were one of them too."
My heart stuttered.
"So... I apologize," he finished quietly.
For a split second, everything inside tangled.
How does he know?
Who told him?
What exactly does he know about my father? About the house? About the things that weren’t visible from the outside?
My lips parted. I was about to ask—about to demand it, really but the elevator chid.
The doors slid open. Light flooded in, cutting my question clean in half.
Mr. Antonio stepped out without waiting, the conversation ending as abruptly as it had begun.
He paused just long enough to glance back at . "We’re here," he said.
And then he was gone, walking down the corridor toward Roo’s office like nothing heavy had just been laid at my feet.
I remained in the elevator for a heartbeat longer, my unfinished question echoing uselessly in my head. How did you know?
But the doors were already closing behind .
And Roo was waiting.
††
Bonus two
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