Talia’s POV

I took a deep breath and stood up. I needed a glass of water to clear the lingering shadows of my nightmare. Wrapping a blanket over my shoulders, I headed out of my room, only to be met by my two bodyguards. I was suddenly glad I hadn’t washed off my makeup yet.

"Little Flower, what are you doing up at this hour?" Alan whispered. I went back inside, grabbed my notebook, and wrote: 'Bad nightmare. I just need a glass of water before I go back to sleep.'

"How are you feeling? Do you want to talk about it?" Ken asked, his eyes filled with worry. I shook my head. 'No, not right now. Maybe another time.'

They both nodded, and we made our way down to the kitchen. It was a good thing they were with me; I would have surely gotten lost in this massive estate. Ken pointed out the right cabinet when I looked for a glass, and I gave him a small smile of thanks.

I was sitting at the kitchen island, sipping my water, when Dante suddenly stumbled in. I could tell immediately that he was both drunk and high. The sight alone triggered a flood of bad memories. When his eyes landed on me, they flared with an intense rage.

He walked toward the island. Ken and Alan tensed, ready to intervene, but I held up a hand to tell them to stay back.

"Why the heck did you have to come back here?" he growled, his voice thick and slurred. "Life was easier without a burden like you. You aren't wanted here, Talia. You should have stayed with your mother. You think we need you here? You're just a liability. It’s your fault we lost our mother all those years ago! If it hadn't been for you, she’d still be here."

He was inches from my face now. His breath, smelling of bourbon and weed, hit me like a physical blow. It made me feel sick to my stomach. Tears threatened to spill, but I blinked them away, refusing to let him see me cry.

Ken and Alan rushed forward. Alan scooped me up bridal-style. "You should think twice about what you're saying, Mr. Bianchi," Ken said, his voice cold with anger. "You don't know her story."

Dante scoffed. "And you do?"

"Yes. Now, have a 'pleasant' night. I don't think Leon will be happy to hear about this in the morning," Ken shot back. Alan carried me out of the kitchen while Ken grabbed my glass of water.

"Please, Little Butterfly, don't listen to him," Ken whispered once we were back in the safety of my room. "He has no idea what you’ve been through. What he said was cruel and completely wrong."

They followed me inside, and Alan set me on the bed. He went to the bathroom and returned with a wet cloth. He reached out to clean my face, but I stopped him. If he did that, he’d see the truth. I took a deep breath and let the blanket fall, sitting there in only my sports bra. I slowly began to wipe away the makeup concealing my bruises.

When I was finished, they both stared at me in horrified silence, tears welling in their eyes. Alan took my hand and helped me stand so they could see the full extent of the scars and bruises.

"How could anyone do this to a person?" Ken whispered, his voice breaking. They traced the marks with trembling fingers, their touch incredibly light.

"How are you walking around with a smile while carrying all this pain?" Alan asked, his hand cupping my cheek. That was the breaking point. I finally crumbled, the tears flowing freely.

Alan pulled me into a tight hug and sat down with me on the window seat. "Do you want me to get Leon?" Ken asked softly. I nodded against Alan’s chest.

A few minutes later, the door opened. Leon was there. He immediately took me from Alan’s arms, holding me tightly. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, burying my face in his shoulder.

"What happened?" Leon asked, his voice low and dangerous. As I sobbed, Ken and Alan explained everything—the nightmare, Dante’s verbal attack, and the scars they had just discovered. I cried until exhaustion took over, eventually falling asleep in my brother's protective embrace.