CHAPTER 54: WHERE THE LIGHT NEVER CHANGED

They reached Sabbia Bianca by the time night settled over the coast. The city was just as Vincent remembered.

Houses climbed the slope of the old dormant mountain, each tier lit softly from within, each higher step offering a view of the ocean stretching into the darkness.

Tourists drifted through the winding streets even at this hour, the glow of storefronts settling over them like a warm veil.

It was exactly this beauty, and the steady flow of outsiders, that kept the place neutral ground. Lucero, Lunox, the smaller crews, all of them stayed civil here.

Except for Dominus, they were never included in these agreements, but they never followed anyone’s rules anyway.

Vincent pulled the car up in front of a modest two-story house. Nothing impressive, nothing loud. Just quiet, familiar warmth.

He crouched by the flowerpot near the door, fished out the old key, and let himself inside. Everything looked untouched.

He paid someone to clean weekly, but still, the stillness of the place always hit him the same way.

He switched on the lamp. "I’m home..."

His voice filled the empty space, and as always, nothing answered back.

In the bathroom, he filled a bucket, carried it back outside, opened the car door, and dumped the whole thing over Victor’s face.

The Giant jolted upright with a choking inhale, eyes wide and unfocused. Vincent couldn’t stop the small laugh that slipped out.

"We’re in Bianca. Get up. Go inside."

He headed back toward the house while Victor cursed under his breath, half-asleep and half-annoyed.

Inside, Victor paused just past the doorway, taking in the cozy furniture and soft lighting. It felt like he’d just stepped into a grandmother’s living room.

"Whose place is this? Lucero’s guys aren’t gonna sniff us out, right?"

"They won’t." Vincent opened one of the bedroom doors and leaned on the frame.

"This is my mother’s house. As far as I know, no one ever cared enough about her to keep track."

He pointed toward the living room. "You can take the couch. Just don’t break anything."

Victor rolled his eyes but wandered toward it anyway, muttering something inaudible as Vincent’s gaze followed him, sharp as ever.

After making sure Victor had collapsed on the sofa with the television playing softly, Vincent slipped into his own room. His childhood room. It looked exactly the same.

The walls were still painted with the ocean he grew up beside, a ship resting quietly at the docks, a slow sunrise warming everything in gentle orange.

His mother’s brushstrokes were everywhere, steady and hopeful.

He dropped onto the bed that was now far too small for him and stared at the ceiling. The stillness of the room tugged an old memory to the surface.

They’d been having a special dinner that day. Lobster, clams, risotto. A rare treat.

Then they suddenly hear knocks, loud enough to shake the doorframe. His mother froze for a second before forcing a smile.

"Vincent, can you go to your room first? I have an important visitor."

He remembered the slump of disappointment in his shoulders. Cold risotto was a tragedy. But he went anyway.

From behind his door, he only caught pieces of the conversation, the parts loud enough to cut through the walls.

"Bianca! You can’t stay hidden here forever. You need to fulfill your responsibility!"

The voice was sharp and angry. Little Vincent had gone rigid.

"I don’t want to. Leave me and my child alone!"

His mother’s voice shook, though she still tried to stand her ground.

The man laughed, cruel and careless. "So it’s your son that’s in your way? I just need to get rid of it, then?"

"Don’t involve him! He has nothing to do with this!"

"Then do what your old man wants and stop whoring yourself!"

Vincent remembered the sharp intake of his mother’s breath. "I never did that. I’m just a waitress—"

Then everything fell apart. Glass shattering. Furniture crashing. His mother was shouting back. Fear was rising like a storm inside him.

He couldn’t stay still anymore. He threw the door open and planted himself in front of her, arms spread as wide as he could make them.

"Don’t bully my mother!"

What came next happened fast. A shove, violent and sudden, sent him crashing into the wall. His mother screamed, ran to him, and held him tight.

"Don’t hurt my son!"

"Then do what you’re told. You hear me?"

The man snapped before storming out, leaving behind a broken room and two people holding each other on the floor, crying as the home they loved quietly collapsed around them.

Vincent exhaled slowly on the small bed, eyes fixed on nothing. "I still don’t remember their faces. I was too cowardly to look at them."

The past sat heavily on him, but it was unchangeable. For years he’d thought those men were from Lucero.

Now he knew better. They weren’t. They were from Bianca’s father. His own grandfather.

He gripped the sheets, grounding himself, steadying his breath. His eyelids were already dragging, exhaustion settling into every part of him.

Better to rest than to burn in old anger, he told himself.

He finally closed his eyes.

.

.

.

"Vincent, stay by my side and become my right-hand man. Forget your stupid business," Lucien said, swirling whiskey in his glass before taking a slow sip.

They were alone in the private bar, Damien late as usual.

The two of them sat at the counter while Lucien’s favorite bartender worked on a drink, the shaker clicking rhythmically in his hands.

The bar perched on the top floor of the tallest building in Cisili. From up here the world looked soft and endless, sky meeting ocean in the distance.

When the weather was clear, even the mountains stood proud in the far horizon. But tonight the view was a field of city lights, glowing like scattered fireflies.

Vincent stiffened a little and rubbed the back of his neck, caught off-guard by the offer.

"Huh? You sure? You know I’m an outsider, right? They won’t let me stand in a position that high."

Lucien laughed outright. "So what? I’m a beta. I’m practically destined to be the most disgraceful Don in the history of Lucero."

He lifted his glass with a smirk. "If you become my right-hand man, we’d be the disaster duo. Those old men would turn the color of boiled lobster and drop dead from pure outrage."

Vincent couldn’t help laughing at the picture. That was what he admired about Lucien.

Anyone else in his situation would lie low, hide, or compromise. Lucien faced the world head-on, and he did it with chaos and confidence.

"So?" Lucien slid a drink toward him. "You in?"

Vincent picked it up. "Count me in."

"That’s my brother!" Lucien grinned and raised his glass.

They hooked arms, drinking from each other’s glasses at the same time. It was a tradition, an oath, the Lucero way.

After a while, the conversation drifted into laughter and familiar warmth, until Lucien suddenly went quiet.

"I’m sorry I didn’t attend your mother’s funeral," he said. "And our parents’ funerals shouldn’t have been separated the way they were."

"It’s fine. I know you weren’t in charge yet—"

"No. I should’ve done better." Lucien stopped him. "Bianca was a brave woman and a good mother."

"I’m glad she was my stepmom, even for a short time. I’m glad she brought you into the De Luca family... brought you to me."

.

.

.

The dream faded like smoke.

Vincent’s eyes opened in his childhood bedroom. He shut them again as a bitter taste lingered on his tongue.

"Lucien..."

The door flew open. Victor barged in without a hint of shame.

"I’m hungry. Let’s get food somewhere." He squinted at Vincent. "Are you crying?"

He immediately burst out laughing. "Man, you’re really crying about everything that happened today?"

Vincent inhaled sharply and wiped at his cheeks, startled to find tears actually there. "What the hell, no!"

He ruffled his hair in annoyance while Victor kept laughing.

"Shut up," Vincent snapped, standing.

"We’re going to Costa. They’ve got good seafood." He walked past Victor, who was still chuckling like an idiot.

"Relax. It’s fine for a man to cry sometimes," the Giant said, following him out. "Though I’d never do it."

"Shut up."

They stepped outside into the cool night. The city was still bright and lively, the streets humming with life as they headed toward the hall and the restaurant beyond.