Gemma’s POV

Each day drags by like a slow execution. After that night when Dominic appeared in my apartment like a shadow from my darkest dreams, something inside me shattered completely. Then seeing his face twisted with disgust at that restaurant days later—it was like watching my soul bleed out in real time. I never knew emotional suffering could feel this much like dying.

Ivy’s pregnancy reached its final stage, with everyone in the Thorne family buzzing about the quadruplets who would strengthen the bloodline. I had no right to burden the Don’s wife with my problems while she carried the future of the organization. My visits to the family compound became brief and strategic—see her, avoid lingering conversations with the other women in the circle, deflect questions about my mental state, leave before Vincenzo or any of the other soldiers could corner me with their concerned interrogation. I’ve become a master at dodging phone calls from the family network too.

Zander has become my lifeline through this hell. Over these months, he’s transformed from a fellow survivor of the streets into my most trusted confidant. We share a mutual understanding of what it feels like to be abandoned by the people who were supposed to protect us. Our evenings often consist of trading war stories and fresh wounds, though he consistently argues I’m being stubborn about reaching out to Dominic. I always counter that a Capo like Dominic has undoubtedly replaced me with someone more suitable for his position already.

Nick’s threatening letters still occasionally found their way to my old address despite his imprisonment. I finally visited the post office and arranged for them to note my relocation without disclosing my new location to anyone who might come looking. The letters stopped coming for a while, offering small relief while Daniel and Adler continued their investigation into his prison connections.

Another unexpected blessing was Marcus’s disappearance from my life. He hasn’t shown up to terrorize me in months, and I’m grateful for that reprieve. Perhaps even a disgraced former mafioso grows tired of tormenting someone so far beneath his notice.

I notice the looks Xavier, Jude, Caleb, Finn, and Daniel give me whenever we cross paths at family gatherings—like they’re harboring dangerous secrets they lack the courage to share. I pretend not to notice, assuming they want to tell me Dominic’s found a new woman, probably someone from a proper crime family. It would make sense; a man in Dominic’s position would never remain alone for long.

Recently there has been absolute chaos within the Thorne organization. Ivy delivered her babies, and one was nearly kidnapped from the hospital by rival family operatives. Roman, a traitor within our own ranks, broke into the Thorne compound and injured Caleb during a failed assassination attempt, though thankfully that snake was captured alive, and Caleb is recovering under heavy guard. It seemed Ivy and Caleb might finally find peace in their empire—until Ivy called requesting a private conversation, which struck me as unusual given the heightened security protocols.

"Where are those beautiful future soldiers?" I announced as I entered the heavily fortified nursery, making a fuss over the quadruplets arranged in bulletproof strollers throughout the armored living room.

"Just back from a supervised garden walk with the security detail," Ivy replied, embracing me carefully. "How are you surviving, my friend?"

"I’m managing, Ivy. And you?"

"Worried about you. I know I’ve been distant with the bed rest and heightened security measures, but now that the immediate threats are neutralized, I won’t rest until you tell me everything." She guided me toward the reinforced couch.

"There’s nothing to tell, Ivy," I insisted, forcing calm into my voice despite knowing she could read people like classified intelligence reports.

"Gemma, can I share something with you?" Her tone turned gentle but firm.

"Ivy, if it’s about Dominic, please don’t. Let’s leave that bloody Chapter buried where it belongs."

"But, Gemma..." I silenced her with a pleading look that held all my desperation.

"Thank you for understanding." My eyes welled with unwelcome moisture that threatened to expose my carefully maintained facade.

"But you’ll be my daughter’s godmother, right? Or are you planning to disappear from our family completely?" Ivy pouted playfully, though I could hear the underlying concern of someone who’d lost too many people to this life.

I laughed despite myself. "Of course I’ll be little Olive’s godmother!" I tickled the beautiful blue-eyed baby who would someday inherit part of this empire. "I’d be honored to help raise the next generation."

"You should know Dominic’s designated as her godfather." Ivy finally revealed the source of her worry.

"That’s not a problem. I can handle being in the same room as him for family obligations. I’ll attend the baptism ceremony and be there for everything Olive needs from her godmother. I won’t let personal history interfere with family loyalty," I assured her with more confidence than I felt.

"But seeing him will reopen wounds," Ivy sighed knowingly.

"The pain will fade eventually." I squeezed her hand gently, hoping I sounded more convincing than I felt.

I created elaborate excuses to leave before the usual gathering time when everyone arrives to see the babies and conduct family business. I’d strategically visit earlier, during lunch hours, or when cornered by circumstances, I’d make hasty exits claiming urgent errands.

Today, however, fate had other plans. As I was leaving through the compound’s main entrance, Dominic arrived in his black luxury sedan. Our eyes locked in a moment of painful recognition that cut through me like a knife, but neither of us spoke. He looked uncharacteristically disheveled—no suit jacket or tie, wrinkled dress shirt, messy hair, stubbled face that spoke of sleepless nights. This careless appearance seemed completely wrong for the typically immaculate Capo. Perhaps he’d just left some new woman’s bed after a long night of forgetting I ever existed. My chest constricted painfully as I turned away, passing him without acknowledgment like we were strangers.

Back in my modest apartment, I surveyed the chaos that had become my living space—as disheveled and broken as Dominic had appeared. I smiled bitterly; my surroundings perfectly reflected the wreckage of my mental state. I called Zander and invited him over for pizza, desperately needing to vent to someone who understood survival.

"Jesus Christ, Gemma!" Zander exclaimed, scanning my apartment in genuine shock. "What the hell happened here? Did someone ransack the place?"

"This is exactly how I feel inside, Zander," I lamented pathetically from my position buried under blankets on the couch.

"Enough, Gemma! This self-destruction has gone too far. Look at this disaster!" Zander disappeared into the kitchen, returning with cleaning supplies like a man on a mission. "Get off that couch. We’re cleaning this place top to bottom."

"I don’t want to!" I whined like a child. "I invited you for pizza and complaining, not manual labor."

"And we’ll have pizza—after we restore some order to your life." When I didn’t move, Zander sat beside me with the patience of someone who’d been through his own version of hell. "Sweetie, cleaning your environment will help organize your thoughts too. You’ll see things more clearly when you’re not surrounded by chaos."

"You promise that will actually work?" I asked, feeling defeated and desperate for any small improvement.

"I promise. I’ve been through this exact phase myself after my own world imploded."

We spent several hours systematically restoring order to my life, one salvaged possession at a time. As we finished, I genuinely felt better than I had in weeks.

"Now let’s throw these clothes in the washer," Zander said, dragging me toward the laundry area. "I’ll order pizza while you handle that domestic responsibility."

"You’re always right, Zander. I actually do feel more human."

"Of course I am. I’m the best friend you’ve got!" he proclaimed with mock arrogance, making us both laugh for the first time in forever.

While sorting through the clothes that had been scattered across my bedroom floor, a piece of paper fell from the folds of a scarf. Zander retrieved it and handed it to me without looking.

"What’s this?" I smiled, taking the paper. As I read the handwriting, my legs went weak and tears began streaming down my face uncontrollably.

It was a note from Dominic dated from that night I thought was just a vivid dream. He had actually been there, in my apartment, while I slept. I trembled violently, barely able to read through my tears as the implications hit me. Zander guided me to a kitchen stool, handed me water, and took the paper to read it himself.

"Let’s see what kind of message could cause this reaction," Zander said, beginning to read aloud:

"Gemma, I’m consumed by longing and bound by our love that burns deeper than any oath I’ve ever sworn to this family. This love destroys me, blazes through my veins, suffocates me with its intensity, yet makes me feel truly alive—because I live for you alone, my precious nightingale. Don’t fear jumping into this abyss of dangerous feelings with me. I had a family emergency that demanded my immediate attention and had to leave, but believe me when I say I would have given anything to spend the entire night holding you and wake with you safe in my arms. Forget everything that stands between us and come back to me. I’ll wait for your call no matter how long it takes. I’ll always belong to you completely, Dominic."

"Damn, this man knows how to write a letter that could melt steel," Zander remarked with genuine admiration.

"Zander, where exactly was this hidden?" I asked desperately, my hands shaking as I held this proof that everything I thought I knew might be wrong.

"It was tangled up in your clothes—most of what I gathered came from beside your bed. What was it caught on?"

"That colorful scarf I never wear."

"The navy blue one? It was crumpled by your bedside table in the corner. The note probably fell when you moved around and with the state this apartment was in..." Zander smiled knowingly. "You need to call him, Gemma. Even I’m impressed by this guy after reading that."

"Zander, that was some time ago! The night we went to that underground bar," I explained, my voice breaking.

"The night you claimed you ’dreamed’ about him?"

"Exactly."

"So it wasn’t a dream?" Zander looked genuinely astonished. "Introduce me to this man. I need to learn how to leave a woman the way he left you."

"Crying and broken?" I mocked bitterly.

"Completely in love and desperate to get back to him, you fool," Zander laughed. "Call him right now."

"I can’t. A man like Dominic doesn’t wait for so long for anyone. He’s forgotten me by now."

"I seriously doubt that! A woman like you isn’t easily forgotten, especially by someone who writes letters like this." Zander squeezed my shoulder with firm encouragement. "This isn’t the kind of thing a man writes unless you’ve gotten under his skin permanently."

"Do you really think I still have a chance after all this time?" I asked, staring at the floor as hope and terror warred in my chest.

"A man who writes like that will never forget you. He’s probably been waiting by his phone constantly." Zander held out my phone, his eyes full of conviction and encouragement. "Call him—you control your own destiny now. Make your own chance!"