Talia’s POV

When we entered the dining room, everyone was already there. I looked over at Dad, then the rest of my brothers. At least Leon, David, Dad, Aaron, and Theo had smiles on their faces.

"So, bambina, how did the shopping go?" Dad asked excitedly. I let out a heavy sigh of defeat, which made my guards, Theo, and Aaron laugh.

"It went great! We were able to get her lots and lots of stuff," Aaron said proudly.

"Of course, she wouldn't waste an opportunity to spend other people's money," Nico scoffed. Honestly, I wasn't even bothered by his stupid comments at this point.

"For your information, dear brother of mine, she was against the whole trip altogether," Aaron shot back, looking at Nico with an angry expression. "We had to make her write a promise not to interfere. Talia is a girl of her word; she kept her promise, but I could see it in her eyes—every time we picked something up, she was internally begging us not to!"

I looked over at Nico and saw a flicker of guilt on his face, though he masked it quickly.

"From now on, Dante and Nico, if you two don't have anything nice to say about your sister, I suggest you don't speak at all!" Dad said sternly.

Miranda came out with the food. Everyone else had a seafood dish, but I was served chicken. I gave her a grateful smile and a bow; she kissed the top of my head and walked out. We enjoyed the meal in peace until I finished. Then Theo, Aaron, and David started arguing over who would get my leftovers. Leon ended the debate by taking them himself, making my other brothers complain while Dad chuckled at their antics.

"By the way, everyone, the rest of the family will come tomorrow for lunch and dinner," Dad said with a big smile. "They are all so excited to see mia bambina again."

"You remember them as well?" Dad asked. I nodded.

"She remembers all their names," Leon explained for me. "She just doesn't remember which brother belongs to which aunt and uncle."

"That’s fine. I’m sure they’ll explain all of that tomorrow," Dad said. Leon also updated me on some family changes—Aunt Alise and Emmanuel were no longer together, and Emmanuel had remarried a woman named Julia, who had passed away, leaving behind an adopted son named Declan.

My brothers and dad kept the conversation going, occasionally slipping into Italian to discuss Mafia-related business. They still didn't know I spoke it fluently or that I already knew who they were, so I just pretended not to understand. After dinner, exhausted from the mall trip, I headed to my room and fell asleep quickly.

(Content Warning: Trauma/Nightmare)

The darkness of a nightmare soon swallowed me. I was back in that cold car, forced inside by Gregor. It was one of his "bad days." He had forced me into that tiny, humiliating red dress, treating me like an object rather than a human being.

"Stay silent," he had hissed in my ear, his grip bruising my arm as he dragged me through a door. Every man we passed looked at me with predatory eyes, as if I were nothing but a piece of meat. I felt the crushing weight of worthlessness. I wondered if I would ever be seen as more than something for others to use for their own twisted pleasure.

We reached the end of a long, dark hallway. Gregor knocked, and we entered a room where Cillian Walsh—the leader of the Irish Mafia—was waiting. I remembered him as my worst nightmare. His eyes scanned me with a sickening lust that made my skin crawl.

In the dream, I felt the utter helplessness of being trapped. I remembered the cold touch of his hands and the absolute violation of my dignity as I was forced to submit to his cruelty. I was a prisoner in my own body, forbidden from making a sound, forced to endure the darkness of that room while my spirit was being shattered. The memory of the pain and the sheer terror of being treated as property felt so real, so suffocating.

I shot up in bed, gasping for air, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Oh, thank God. It was just a nightmare.

I sat there trembling, clutching my chest as I tried to calm my racing pulse. I looked at the digital clock on my bedside table. It was 2:47 AM. The room was quiet and safe, but the shadows of the past still lingered in the corners.