“Who is S.R., Andrea?” I asked, my voice firm, searching her face for answers. She shook her head slowly, still lost in her thoughts, her eyes distant.

“What?” Christina exclaimed, still keeping her voice low. “Wasn’t he supposed to be in prison?” she asked, her face a mirror of the horror that had gripped Andrea just moments ago.

Andrea’s expression remained eerily calm, but her voice betrayed her, trembling slightly. “Either he got out, or he has his people working here.” She paused, glancing at me before adding softly, “Can we leave?” The desperation in her eyes intensified as she whispered, “Please.”

I wanted to push her, to demand answers. But the haunted look in Andrea’s eyes, the one that pleaded for relief, shut me up before I could utter another word. I shot a glance at Michael, who looked just as baffled as I was, but he too remained silent, sensing the gravity of the situation.

We drove home in a thick, uncomfortable silence, the weight of unspoken fears pressing down on us. Andrea’s hands were still clutching the note as if it held the key to her survival, her head buried in Christina’s shoulder, seeking some kind of comfort. The silence was deafening, and not a single one of us dared to break it.

The moment we pulled into the driveway, Andrea darted out of the car and rushed to our room without a word.

“Okay, now will someone tell me what’s going on?” Michael asked, turning to Christina, his voice edged with concern.

Christina shook her head, her expression tight with worry. “It’s not my story to tell. Andrea will explain when she’s ready. But you need to know something—if S.R. has found her, she’s in serious danger,” Christina said quietly, her gaze fixed on the floor, her hand squeezing Michael’s for comfort.

I turned to leave, but Christina gently grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

“Please,” she began softly, her voice gentle but with an undercurrent of warning, “don’t push her for answers. She needs a loving husband tonight, not the jerk you’ve been acting like.” She looked me square in the eyes, her plea clear. Though her words stung, I nodded, acknowledging her request despite the fact that I had just been called out—deservedly.

I made my way to the kitchen, taking a detour to gather my thoughts. I remembered how Andrea had winced earlier when she leaned back in her chair. That small movement now screamed at me, reminding me of the pain she was hiding. The guilt gnawed at me as I filled a towel with ice cubes and grabbed another clean one, thinking of how I’d added to her suffering, both emotionally and physically.

I walked upstairs slowly, making sure to make my presence known so I wouldn’t startle her. Inside our room, Andrea’s discarded dinner clothes were piled haphazardly in the corner. She was already in bed, curled up in a tight ball, her legs tucked against her chest beneath the blanket that was pulled all the way up to her shoulders. She faced away from me, clearly trying to shut out the world—and me along with it.

I stood there for a moment, taking in the scene. Whatever had happened today had hit her harder than I’d ever seen. I felt like an idiot. All the signs had been there, but I’d been too blinded by my own suspicions to see them. When we were ambushed two months ago and the sudden proposal, I convinced myself Andrea was involved, that she was the villain. It was easier to believe she was a spy than to face the fact that whoever was behind it was still out there, waiting to strike again.

I never realized she wasn’t preparing for betrayal—she was preparing for survival. All those years spent honing her skills, building those walls, were not for offense but defense, protecting herself from the moment S.R. would inevitably find her. Whoever he was, he had finally returned, and Andrea’s worst fears had come to life.

I approached her slowly, gently placing my hand on her elbow. She flinched but didn’t pull away. I rubbed her arm lightly, trying to show her that I wasn’t going to hurt her, that I was here for her.

“Andrea,” I said quietly, “can you lie on your stomach for me?” My voice was soft, coaxing her, though I wasn’t sure if she would trust me.

Her eyes met mine, a mixture of confusion and suspicion swirling in them. She hesitated, clearly unsure of my intentions.

“I’m not going to hurt you, lionessa,” I whispered, using the nickname I hadn’t called her in a while, hoping it would spark some warmth between us. “I promise.”

She stared at me for a few moments longer, then reluctantly turned and lay on her stomach, her movements slow and hesitant. I carefully pulled the blanket down and lifted her shirt slightly, my eyes flicking up to meet hers as if silently asking for permission. Her gaze stayed on me, wary but yielding. I placed the ice towel on her back, where a nasty bruise spread across her skin—the result of me slamming her against the wall during our argument.

The guilt churned in my stomach, making me feel physically sick. What kind of man was I? The woman I promised to protect, I’d ended up hurting.

Andrea immediately flinched at the cold, jerking slightly. It seemed to break the trance she’d been in, and she reached out to swat my arm.

“Asshole! You could’ve warned me!” she shouted, her voice louder than I’d heard it all day.

I couldn’t help but laugh, a hearty sound I hadn’t expected to come out. Her face flushed with a soft shade of pink as she buried it into her pillow, trying to hide her embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and though the words felt foreign to me, I knew I owed her that much. Apologizing wasn’t something I was used to, but Andrea deserved it, after everything I’d put her through. I should never have doubted her, never suspected her.

She turned her head just slightly, her eyes catching mine. A small, teasing smirk played at her lips.

“You’re terrible at apologizing, you know that?” she said playfully. “Most people would be on their knees by now, begging for forgiveness, not wanting to risk a knife in their chest.” Her voice softened into a playful whisper. “Especially considering you’re going to be sleeping next to me tonight. You might want to reconsider your approach.”

I returned her smirk. “I’ll sleep with one eye open, then. Besides,” I added, lowering my voice suggestively, “the only reason I’ll be on my knees is if I’m eating you out.”

She rolled her eyes and swatted my arm again, but this time, her laughter joined mine. The tension in the room eased slightly, if only for a moment.

Her smile faded, though, and she attempted to speak again. “Raffaele, this guy... he... he…” The words seemed to catch in her throat, the struggle to explain was clear in her eyes. She's usually never at a loss of words.

I pressed my index finger gently against her lips, silencing her. “Shh. You don’t have to tell me right now. When you’re ready, you will. I’ll protect you, Andrea. You’re my wife, and this time, I’ll keep my promise.” I leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to the bruise on her back, sealing my vow with that simple gesture.

She nodded weakly, a small, almost imperceptible movement.

I stood and discarded the now damp towel on the bedside table, stripping off my suit and adding it to the pile of clothes Andrea had left. Clad only in my boxers, I slid into bed beside her. I opened my arms, inviting her closer.

She raised an eyebrow at me, her hesitation clear.

“For tonight,” I said softly, “forget everything that’s happened. Let me be there for you. Tomorrow, you can unleash all your anger at me. But tonight, let me hold you.”

Without another word, she agreed, burying her face into my chest as I wrapped my arms around her. I traced gentle circles on her back, careful not to touch the bruise, while the silence stretched between us, this time less suffocating, more tender.

I made a silent vow to myself. I’m not a child anymore. I failed to protect my mother because I was just a kid. But I won’t make the same mistake with Andrea. Unlike my father, I will protect my wife.

And this time, I won’t fail.