CHAPTER 98: NOT MY BOY

Chapter 98

NONNA POV

Sleep never came. Not after a night like this.

I’d left Katya’s room and stayed beside ragazzomio in the infirmary long after the nurses stopped moving, long after the lamps dimmed and the house fell silent.

Watching him breathe. Watching the boy who once clung to my skirts now lie still beneath white sheets, his chest rising slow, fragile.

"Even now, you fight in silence," I whispered, brushing my wrinkled hand across his hair. "Just like your father."

He didn’t stir. He only slept — the kind of sleep that felt like distance, like a place too far for a grandmother’s prayers to reach.

When the faintest sign of dawn touched the window, I finally wheeled back from his bedside.

My hands trembled on the armrests, not from weakness, but from the weight pressing on my chest. I’d told the nurse I’d only rest a little.

Just a few hours before returning again. I had nothing to do so why not stay with the only person I live for.

The hallway outside was still, holding its breath. My wheels rolled quietly across the marble floor.

I was nearly at the elevator when I heard it, the click of heels. Slow. Careful. Coming from the stairs.

I paused.

No one used the stairs at this hour. Not up here.

When the sound reached the landing, I lifted my gaze.

"Miss Stella?"

She froze mid-step, one hand gripping the rail. Her eyes widened, not in surprise, but something sharper. Something like she’d been caught1.

"Signora," she said quickly, recovering her smile. "You’re awake early."

"So are you," I murmured, narrowing my eyes gently. "Why are you coming to the infirmary at this hour, dear?"

Her fingers tightened around the rail before she let go, smoothing her dress. "I... I came to see the doctor. I’m not feeling well."

"Not well?" I frowned, guiding my chair closer. "What’s wrong? You should have sent word."

She shook her head, too fast. "It’s nothing serious. I just... didn’t want to worry anyone. I thought I’d ask for something before the day begins."

"Then I’ll come with you," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. "It’s too early to be alone, especially if you’re unwell."

Her smile wavered, but only for a heartbeat. "Of course, Signora."

We moved together down the corridor. Her steps neat and precise, my wheels gliding softly beside her.

She kept glancing around, eyes flicking to the corners, the shadows, as though searching for something unseen.

When we reached the infirmary wing, she paused outside the doctor’s office. "Thank you, but... you don’t need to wait," she said gently. "It might take a while."

"I’ll wait," I said simply, folding my hands in my lap. "Take your time."

Something flickered across her face — unease, perhaps — before she nodded and slipped through the door.

The latch clicked softly behind her.

I sat there in the quiet hall, staring at the closed door, the faint hum of machines in the distance.

My heart gave a slow, uneasy twist. Miss Stella had always been loyal. Gentle. Constant.

But tonight, her eyes looked like someone carrying a secret she didn’t want found.

I shook my head softly. What was I thinking? Why was I now doubting a woman who has stood by this family for so long?

My thoughts shifted to Katya — cara

mia.

The poor girl had looked so small when she told me everything. Her voice had trembled, but her eyes... her eyes never wavered. They held a pain too old for someone her age. A kind of sorrow I knew all too well.

I had seen it before — in the mirror looking back at me.

When she spoke of her father, of the cruelty he dressed as love, I felt something twist deep inside me. The kind of ache that comes from remembering. From knowing.

I believed her. Every word.

Because monsters1 didn’t always live outside the home. Sometimes, they sat at the dinner table. Sometimes, they shared your last name.

And though she carried the blood of the man — Boris — who ruined everything, who took my son, who tore our family apart, she was nothing like him.

I could see it in her eyes, in the way her hands shook when she spoke of the things she’d endured.

Children were not the sins of their parents. I had learned that lesson the hardest way.

And God help me, I wouldn’t let her suffer for the sins she didn’t choose.

No one — not even a daughter of an enemy — deserved to live shackled by fear.

Katya had already been through enough. Too much. And yet, she still smiled. Still cared.

So yes, I would stand by her. No matter what the others whispered. No matter what bloodlines said.

Because I knew what it was like to be trapped in a house that felt more like a cage. To be punished for breathing. To be told that love came with bruises and silence.

If I could shield her from even a fraction of that pain, I would.

If fate was cruel enough to weave our stories together, then perhaps it was giving us both a chance to heal — her from her past, and me from mine.

"Doctor Isabella!"

A sharp shout echoed down the hall, jarring in the stillness. My heart gave a violent jolt.

The nurse barely slowed as she rushed past me, coat flaring, eyes wide with panic.

"What—" I began, but before the words could leave my lips, the office door burst open.

Doctor Isabella stepped out, face pale, eyes alert. The nurse spoke in hurried whispers, her hands trembling as she gestured down the corridor.

Then both women took off, going deeper into the infirmary, their footsteps fading fast.

My chest tightened. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

The door beside me swung open again, and Miss Stella emerged. All traces of her calm gone.

Her eyes darted toward the direction they’d gone.

"Stella," I called out, my voice taut. "What happened?"

She hesitated only a moment before rushing toward me. "It’s Romeo," she said breathlessly. "The nurse said—" She swallowed hard. "He’s... he’s acting up in his coma."

The world tilted. For a heartbeat, all I heard was the rush of blood in my ears.

Then instinct took over.

I didn’t ask again. Didn’t wait.

My hands flew to the wheels, pushing hard, the chair gliding faster down the corridor.

"Dio mio," I whispered, heart hammering. "Hold on, ragazzo mio. Hold on."

Miss Stella hurried alongside me, her heels clicking urgently against the marble as the hallway blurred past.

Every turn felt longer. Every breath heavier.

Please, not again. Not him. Not my boy.

††

Soooo, nonna’s pov huh.

Btw we are getting closer to 100 Chapters wow. What a mini milestone lol

What do you think would happen in the next Chapter and what do u think is going on with Stella.

Thank y’all for your support muah 😘

Sounds familiar? heheI truly wish people with abusive parents finds peace and all the love they deserve 😭