Page 90 of Ruthless Grace

“I wanted your family to bleed for what they took from me,” I admit flatly. “When Matteo died on that river road, they brought what was left of him home at dawn. Matteo was the only one who ever believed in me. My whole life, he stood between me and my father’s tongue—softened the blows, apologized for the taunts, made the house survivable. He was my best friend. My only ally in our famiglia.”

My throat tightens, the memory tasting like cold ash.

“My father stood over his body. He didn’t cry. He just turned to me, his eyes dead, and said what he’d been saying my entire life—ever since my mother died giving birth to me. He said, ‘Everyone around you dies, Luca. Why couldn’t it be you?’ He collapsed right there, on top of Matteo’s remains. He was dead before he hit the floor.”

A suffocating silence drops over the study.

“I buried my brother and my father in the same afternoon,” I whisper, my voice dropping into a low, rough gravel. “I took a crown I never wanted, carrying a father’s dying curse. I believed your family ordered the strike on Matteo. I wanted you to suffer the way I suffered. I wanted to take your family’s most prized possession and chain her to my estate as punishment.”

I look at her, the guilt eating me alive.

“But it wasn’t just about punishing the Santoros, Gia. If I am being entirely honest, the sickness went deeper than that.” I look down at my hands, the knuckles scarred from a lifetime of violence. “I was chasing a ghost. I spent years building this revenge, coordinating the shipping blockades, drawing up the legal traps, obsessing over how to dismantle your family brick by brick. And do you know why? Because in some sick, twisted part of my mind, I thought that if I destroyed the Santoros—if I finally avenged Matteo—my father would look down from whatever hell he’s in and finally tell me I was enough.”

I let out a raw, self-loathing breath.

“I wanted validation from a dead man who hated me from the moment I drew my first breath. I thought that if I became the ultimate monster, if I built an empire out of pure, calculated ruthlessness, I could finally absolve myself of the guilt of surviving. I spent my life running from the voice in my head screaming that I should have been the one who burned to death in that car.”

Gia watches me, her shield beginning to crack, her lips parting slightly as she hears the raw, bleeding confession of my lifelong wound.

“And you,” I murmur, my eyes tracing her face. “You were the centerpiece of my design. I had your medical files, your schedules, your graduation photos. I watched you from the shadows when you stood dry-eyed at your father’s grave, looking so fierce and unbroken in your black dress. I was obsessed with you long before I ever stepped into your courtyard. I engineered the entire crisis, signed your little document blind, and locked you in my house. I told myself it was strategy. I told myself that taking Salvatore’s daughter was the ultimate tribute to my father’s memory.”

My jaw tightens as I take another step, closing the distance until only the mahogany desk separates us.

“But the moment you stepped into this house, it all fell apart. When I learned that Renzo went silent trying to drag my brother out of that burning car—when I realized my father’s entire house of cards was built on a lie—my revenge died. I didn’t want to destroy your family anymore, Gia. I wanted you. I wanted to keep you safe in the sanctuary I built for you, even if it meant living inside a lie I created. I was too terrified of losing you to tell you the truth.”

I round the desk, pull open the top drawer, and lift out the cold brass keys to Casa Lucia. I place them on the dark wood beside the leather binder.

“Take them,” I murmur softly.

When she doesn’t move, I move to her side. I don’t crowd her, and I don’t use my size to intimidate her. I gently reach out and take her cold left hand. Her fingers are trembling, but she doesn’t pull away. I place the heavy brass keys directly into her palm, then rest the binder over them, wrapping her fingers around both.

My warm, calloused fingers cover hers, forcing her to hold the physical weight of her freedom. The brass edges bite into her soft skin, leaving deep red indentations, a sharp, grounding pain to anchor her through the shock. For a split second, our wedding bands click together in the silent room.

“The hospital belongs to you now,” I say. “The deeds, the permits, and the operations are transferred unconditionally to your name today. No Valentino oversight. No strings. No debt.”

Gia stares at the keys in her hand, her throat working as she swallows down her emotion. “Why are you giving me this, Luca? If you wanted a trophy in a cage, why let me go now?”

“Because your contract gives you the absolute right to walk away,” I reply quietly, looking into the eyes of the only woman who ever owned me. “You wrote that walkout clause to protect yourself from a monster. You were right to write it. And today, I am enforcing it against myself. I won’t keep you in a cage built on a lie.”

Her breath hitches, her eyes wide as she looks at me. “Luca⁠—”

“I am leaving the estate,” I cut in softly, refusing to let her see me break. “The house is yours. My security detail will remain on the outer perimeter under strict orders to obey only you. I am relocating to my office at the deep-water port.”

I let go of her hand. The loss of her touch is a physical ache that radiates straight to my chest. I turn, grab my leather jacket from the armchair, and walk out of the study.

My boots click against the hardwood of the long, empty corridor. I descend the grand staircase, the suffocating silence of my hollow empire wrapping around me like a shroud. I pull open the front door, step out into the gray New Orleans morning, and pull the door shut behind me.

The heavy iron deadbolts slide into place with a dull, echoing click.

39

GIA

The silence that fills the Valentino estate after Luca leaves is not quiet. It is a deafening, physical pressure that presses against my eardrums like the deep-water tides of the Mississippi.

I stand frozen in the center of his study, listening to the distant, gravelly crunch of his custom car pulling out of the courtyard gates. Down the long driveway, the heavy iron gates slam shut with a final, metallic clang.

Then, total stillness.