Christmas Vows with the Devil

17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Gia

The silence stretches between us.

Dante’s dark eyes burn into mine, waiting for me to speak. My throat feels tight. Every word is caught somewhere in between the truth and the terror that telling it will unravel.

I glance at his clenched fists, the veins stretching against his skin. There’s no way out of this. He already knows. Denying it now will only make it worse.

“I...” The word barely makes it past my lips. I force myself to look up, meeting his eyes. “Yes. Matteo is your son.”

His expression doesn’t change. His jaw tightens, lips pressed into a thin line. The room feels colder, smaller, suffocating.

He doesn’t move. He just stares at me as if I’ve betrayed him in the worst possible way. And maybe I have.

“He’s mine?” His voice is low, dangerous. “All these years. You’re telling me I’ve had a son all these years and you kept it from me?”

I can’t breathe. “I was protecting him.”

“Protecting him?” Dante’s laugh is sharp, bitter. He steps closer, towering over me, his presence suffocating. “That’s what this is? You call this protection?”

Tears well up in my eyes, but I blink them away. I refuse to cry. Not now. Not in front of him.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I promised myself I would keep him safe from this life…and that included you.”

Dante flinches, like I’ve slapped him. His eyes flash with anger, but underneath it, I see something else. Hurt. Pain. Heartbreak.

“Why should I believe you?”

I swallow hard. “I didn’t just keep him from you, Dante. My own family hadn’t even met him until this week.”

“No,” he bites out. “Why should I believe he’s mine?”

I stare, the sudden hurt creating tidal waves of confusion in my chest. He doesn’t believe me.

“I…I don’t know,” I manage. “Why would I lie?”

“Seems like impeccable timing,” he muses. He’s pacing the room now, his brain working in overdrive. “I thought it was odd the Vitales would invite me to their Christmas bullshit party. Then I show up and you’re here…after six goddamn years, telling me I have a kid.”

I’m stunned. He really thinks this is some ploy? Some tactic to…I don’t know, trap him? Trick him?

“What are you talking about?” My voice rises an octave in frustration. “I had no motive to draw you here!”

And just like that, I’m thrown back in time to that horrible day six years ago. He didn’t trust me back then, and it doesn’t look like much has changed.

He’s staring at me, emotions flitting across his face. I recognize everything from anger to suspicion and pain in his eyes.

“He’s yours,” I tell him firmly. “I didn’t know what kind of man you’d become. I didn’t know if you’d want him, or me…after what happened.”

He steps back, running a hand through his hair, frustration radiating off him. “You didn’t even give me a chance.”

I can’t answer that. He’s right. I didn’t. But I had my reasons, and as much as I want to explain them, the words feel hollow in the face of his anger.

“I thought I was doing what was best,” I say, my voice shaking.

Dante’s eyes harden again, his expression shutting down. The warmth I’ve seen in him over the past days is gone, replaced by something colder. “This isn’t about what’s best. This is about power. You and your family, using him as a pawn.”

I gasp. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” He steps forward again, his face inches from mine. “You kept him from me. You kept my son from me all these years. And now, you come out of the woodwork and expect me to believe this isn’t some kind of game? Some power move?”

I shake my head, my heart breaking. “Dante, no. I swear…”

He turns away from me, his hands clenched at his sides. “I don’t believe you.”

The words cut through me like a knife, sharper than anything I could’ve imagined. I stand frozen, unable to move, unable to breathe. My chest aches with the weight of everything I’ve lost. I knew this moment would come, but it feels so much worse than I ever anticipated.

Dante walks to the door and pauses with his back to me. “Once a Vitale, always a Vitale.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me standing in the middle of the room, my entire world collapsing around me.

***

The Christmas Eve celebration is in full swing, but I can’t focus. I haven’t been able to shake off the coldness in Dante’s voice, the way he looked at me like I was the enemy—again. I had thought, hoped, that we’d moved past that.

The ballroom is glittering with twinkling lights, the hum of music and laughter filling the air, but it all feels empty. I look around the room, filled with friends and family in their finest outfits. Champagne floats by on shiny silver trays, carried by waiters in formal wear.

The massive Christmas tree glitters like a jewel, a sea of presents piled underneath it. I smile softly, watching the young cousins shake boxes and take bets on what’s in each one. But inside, I’m empty and cold, like a grey February afternoon.

I force a smile when one of my aunts passes by, offering me a glass of champagne. My fingers curl around the stem of the glass, but I don’t drink. I haven’t seen Dante since our conversation. The wound is too fresh, and I doubt he’ll even show up tonight.

“Gia, darling, are you all right?” Aunt Lucia’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

I nod quickly, plastering on another fake smile. “Yes, I’m fine.”

But I’m not. I’ve been spiraling since Dante left. What if he never forgives me? What if he never accepts Matteo?

My eyes scan the room, looking for Matteo. He’s with the other kids, running around in his little tuxedo, laughing with his cousins. The sight brings a brief moment of relief, but the knot in my chest doesn’t loosen.

I finally spot Dante standing by the bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his face hard as stone. He hasn’t looked my way once. I want to go to him, to explain again, but something holds me back.

Maybe it’s the icy wall he’s put between us. Or maybe it’s the fear that he’s already made up his mind about me.

A chill runs down my spine, and I glance around the room again. Something feels off, but I can’t place it. The atmosphere has shifted. There’s an underlying tension that wasn’t there before.

I shake it off, making small talk with Aunt Lucia. Aunt Carla joins us, bringing fresh gossip from the other wives. I pretend to listen, but I’m lost at sea, waves of fear and sadness crashing over me, threatening to drown me.

“Present time!” Uncle Roman’s booming voice announces, and the kids whoop and cheer.

Our family tradition lives on. Every child gets to open one present on Christmas Eve before bedtime. I always loved this tradition, hoping for a good book to put me to sleep. I smile, watching kids clamber around Roman—this year’s designated Santa-esque gift monitor.

My eyes scan the throng of tiny bodies for Matteo’s dark curls, but I come up short.

Where is he? Maybe he took a very poorly timed bathroom break?

I slip past the commotion into the hallway and check the downstairs bathrooms. Empty.

My heart starts beating wildly as I sprint up the stairs to our bedroom. I flip on the lights to find it empty as well. Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself. I tell myself he’s downstairs with the kids, and I just missed him somehow.

I jog back to the ballroom, pushing through the crowd. My heart picks up speed as I scan every face. He was just here, laughing and playing.

My stomach twists with panic, and I turn, frantically searching the ballroom. “Matteo?” I call out, my voice drowned out by the noise of the party.

No answer.

My heartbeat reaches my ears, pounding louder. The edges of my vision blur as fear grips me. “Matteo!” I shout again, this time louder, more desperate.

People are starting to notice. My aunts look over, confused. My father rises from his seat, his eyes narrowing as he watches me panic.

But I don’t care about the stares. All I care about is finding my son.

Dante is suddenly in front of me, his expression shifting from coldness to concern in an instant. “What’s wrong?”

“Matteo,” I choke out. “I can’t find him.”

His eyes widen, and he grabs my arm, pulling me through the crowd. Together, we search the house, calling out for Matteo, but there’s no sign of him. The knot in my chest tightens, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

Aunt Carla rounds up the kids in a corner, double-checking that every one of them is present. The uncles have joined us in the search, spreading out through the hallways and rooms.

Matteo! Matteo! Matteo! His name echoes throughout the house like a haunting prayer.

“He was just here,” I whisper, grabbing Dante’s elbow. “He was playing with the other kids.”

Dante’s face is grim, his jaw clenched. “Stay calm. We’ll find him.”

We ransack the kitchen, checking every drawer and cupboard. My worst nightmares play out in my mind like a twisted horror movie.

“Nothing,” Dante declares, pulling me out the kitchen door. We collide with Uncle Tony on the back porch, his face grim.

“Gia, we found something.”

“No,” I breathe. Not we found him. They found something.

I follow him to the field beyond the garage, where a group of men stand huddled near the back of the estate. My father is there too, his expression hard as he stares at something dark in the snow. As I get closer, my blood turns to ice.

It’s Matteo’s little tuxedo jacket crumpled on the ground near the edge of the yard.

I grab it, flipping it inside out. I need to be sure. Maybe this is just a coincidence? But the lovingly embroidered initials on the inside collar confirm my worst fears.

My legs give out beneath me, and Dante catches me before I hit the ground. His arms are strong around me, but I barely register them. All I can think about is my son.

He’s gone.

Tears stream down my face, and I turn to Dante, my voice barely a whisper. “They took him. Oh my God, they took him.”

Dante’s face is a mask of fury, his eyes blazing with a fire I’ve never seen before. He pulls out his phone, barking orders into it as the rest of the family scrambles into action.

But all I can do is stand there, numb and shaking, the weight of what’s just happened crashing down on me.

Matteo is gone.

And it’s all my fault.