Leon’s POV

I had only managed a few hours of sleep when a knock at my door woke me. I knew it had to be important. Opening it, I found Ken looking deeply troubled.

"I'm sorry to wake you, Don, but Talia needs you," he whispered.

I didn't waste a second. I followed him to Talia's room and found her on Alan’s lap, sobbing uncontrollably. I took her into my arms, and she clung to me as if I were her only lifeline.

"What happened?" I demanded, looking at the two men tasked with her safety.

As Talia cried into my shoulder, Ken and Alan recounted the night's events. They told me about Dante’s intoxicated tirade—how he called her a burden and blamed her for our mother leaving. Then they told me about the bruises and scars they had seen when she wiped away her makeup.

I was beyond furious. Even without her traumatic past, no one should ever speak to their sister that way. I felt Talia’s body go limp as she fell asleep in my arms. I laid her down, but she wouldn't release her grip on my shirt. I signaled for Ken and Alan to return to their posts, and I lay down beside her, eventually drifting back to sleep.

I woke up around 8:00 AM, carefully extracted myself from the bed, and went to get ready for the day. It was Sunday—a family day—but the air felt heavy. I showered and dressed in a three-piece Armani suit before heading downstairs.

In the living room, I found Dad, David, and Aaron. I told them what Dante had said. I kept the details about the scars to myself for now, as Aaron still didn't know the full extent of them.

"How could he say such messed-up things to her?" Aaron asked, shocked.

"It wasn't her fault Bianca left," Dad said, his voice thick with disappointment.

"She must have been heartbroken," David added sadly.

"She cried herself to sleep," I told them. They all nodded in grim understanding.

A little later, Talia walked in with her four guards. She went straight to Dad and sat on his lap. I could see the pride and happiness on his face, a small light in a dark morning.

When Theo, Dante, and Nico arrived, we moved to the dining room. Dad carried Talia and kept her on his lap during lunch. Miranda brought out a spread of eggs, bacon, and sausages. Talia gave her the usual polite bow, which made Miranda beam.

During the meal, I caught Dante staring at Talia with a blank expression. "Dante, my office. After breakfast," I said, my voice cold and firm.

He looked startled, then shot an angry glance at Talia, but she kept her eyes fixed on her plate. Once we finished, Dante followed me to my office. I sat behind my desk and stared him down.

"Dante, tell me," I began, my tone disappointed and stern. "Why are you treating Talia this way? You know she isn't to blame for our mother leaving."

Dante swallowed nervously but then flared up. "She lived with our mother while we couldn't! We've been here training every day for this life, and now this fragile girl walks in and has everyone wrapped around her finger! It’s not fair. We had a hard life while she lived like a normal kid!"

I looked at him, realizing just how little he knew of the "normal" life she had supposedly been living.