Chapter 82: 82
"Sis, what do you think?" Liam asked, squatting in front of her.
Elisa’s eyes swept over the open field, her lips curving into a faint smile. Seeing so many people gathered at once felt strange and beautiful, a sharp contrast to the silence she’d lived in for so long.
She opened her mouth to respond but winced, clutching her side before letting out a soft chuckle.
"The baby seems happy about being here. But won’t Father be upset?"
At the mention of their father, Liam rolled his eyes.
"And when do I ever listen to him? You said you wanted to go somewhere lively and paint and I delivered." He pouted, folding his arms dramatically. "But it seems you’re not settled yet."
Elisa laughed quietly, shaking her head at his antics.
"Alright. But I’ll need a model."
"I’ll be your.." His words broke off when his gaze landed on someone in the crowd. His eyes widened.
"Sis, I’ll be right back!"
"Where are you going?" she called after him as he straightened his shirt and took off.
"To win your sister-in-law back!"
Elisa sighed, watching him disappear into the sea of faces. All she could do was hope he wouldn’t get them into more trouble. Ever since she woke up months ago, Liam had been her constant companion the only one who stayed by her side, talking to her even when she could barely respond.
She didn’t fully understand why he and their father were at odds, but she knew one thing: she couldn’t bear to lose either of them. Not now. Not with a child on the way.
Turning back to her supplies, Elisa reached for her paintbrush but accidentally knocked everything to the ground. Tubes of paint rolled away, brushes clattered, and she groaned in frustration, struggling to reach them from her wheelchair.
Then, a voice broke through her muttering.
"Let me help you."
She looked up, squinting against the sunlight. A tall figure crouched before her, gathering the brushes one by one. The glare hid his face, forcing her to lift a hand and shield her eyes.
When he held out the brushes, she reached to take them but his fingers didn’t immediately let go. The faint warmth of his skin lingered against hers. As he finally looked up, she caught her breath.
He was breathtaking. Dark hair framed a sharp, elegant face; his blue eyes gleamed like frozen glass. His features were calm yet unsettlingly intense like a deity who’d wandered by mistake into the realm of mortals.
"Car.." he started, his voice faltering.
"Hello," she recovered with a soft smile. "I’m Elisa. Would you... be my model?" She had no idea that her words struck something deep in him cracking open the fragile shell around a long-buried ache.
"Tomline," he said finally, standing to his full height. "But you can call me Tom." His gaze flicked to her rounded stomach before returning to her face, his smile gentling. "You’re an artist?"
"Not really. Just trying something new. My sister was the real artist."
"Was?" he asked quietly.
"She’s... traveled far away from us." The corner of her mouth trembled, but she held her smile. "Will you still be my model?"
"Of course," he said, pulling a nearby chair close. "May I sit?"
She nodded, and he studied her quietly as she dipped her brush in paint. Watching her move careful, graceful, although left-handed he couldn’t help comparing her to his lost Carmela.
"You’re left-handed?" he asked. She nodded again, too focused to answer. Minutes passed in silence until she suddenly beamed.
"I’m done! Want to see?"
Before he could reply, she turned the canvas toward him. Tomline blinked then burst into laughter.
On it were two hands drawn with a single unsteady stroke... and a round circle for a face with two uneven dots for eyes.
"What’s this, Elisa?" Tomline chuckled, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the drawing.
Elisa only smiled proudly.
"You’re slim, Tommy. This is the only way I can portray your image imagine me adding a few more strokes to you; it’ll ruin the whole thing."
His laughter faded, replaced by something softer, warmer. "Wait... what did you just call me?"
For a moment, something unexplainable stirred in his chest the way she said Tommy sounded too familiar, too intimate, almost like an echo from a life he couldn’t remember but somehow missed. It wasn’t just the nickname it was the way her voice wrapped around it, sweet and teasing, the kind of tone Carmela used to have when she was amused. His heart gave an involuntary lurch.
Elisa blinked in confusion.
"Tommy? I’m sorry if you don’t like it. It’s just calling you Tom reminds me of Tom and Jerry. And if you have to be Tom, who would be your Jerry? Your life’s going to be boring." She sighed dramatically, crossing her arms.
Tomline couldn’t help it he laughed, his eyes softening. The sound of her voice saying Tommy lingered in his mind, like a whisper he didn’t want to lose.
"It’s okay," he said quietly, still smiling. "Either way, are you here alone? Isn’t the father of your baby or anyone with you?"
"I’m here with my brother," she replied simply. "What about you?"
"It’s my uncle’s birthday," he said, a little too casually.
Elisa’s face lit up immediately. "Wait, you guys are having a birthday party?" Her big brown eyes gleamed with mischief, and Tomline found himself nodding even though the truth was the opposite.
"So there’s going to be a huge party with a huge cake, right?" she pressed, leaning forward eagerly.
He hesitated but nodded again.
Then, to his surprise, her smile faded.
"Actually, I’m being maltreated at home," she said in a theatrically sad tone, placing the back of her hand against her forehead like an actress on stage. Tomline’s brows furrowed, then he nearly laughed when she continued.
"As you can see, I’m a pregnant woman, but no one listens to me. I keep telling them over and over again that I want cake,chocolate, maybe a ice cream! But they lock me in a room because my dad isn’t around and my husband is far away."
She covered her face, fake-sobbing dramatically. "So, kind sir, would you take this lonely pregnant lady to your party and give her some cake?"
Tomline tried to hold back his laughter,he truly did but the sight of her pretending to cry while peeking at him through her fingers was too much. His laughter finally broke free, deep and genuine, the kind that echoed in his chest and startled Elisa into silence.
For a moment, she just stared at him, wide-eyed, a little stunned. She hadn’t expected his laughter to sound that alive.
"Mrs. Elisa," he said finally, catching his breath and straightening up, "you just want cake, right?"
She nodded immediately, her expression brightening like a child promised a treat. "Yes! Chocolate, to be precise."
"Alright," he said, standing to his feet. "I’ll get it for you."
"But what about the party?" she asked, tilting her head.
He paused mid-step and turned to her, offering a small, knowing smile.
"You’re a pregnant lady. Being in a crowded place wouldn’t be good for you," he lied gently before walking away.
The truth was, there was no party no cake waiting in some grand hall. But he could easily buy one from the nearby hotel. Bringing her with him, however, that was risky.
Because he didn’t know when he might run into Nix and with Elisa’s uncanny resemblance to Carmela, he didn’t dare to stir the storm that was barely sleeping beneath the surface.
Meanwhile, Nix stood afar, watching the scene unfold. It was his birthday though it didn’t feel like one. The laughter, the music, the colorful chaos of children running through the park all of it only deepened the ache inside him. He had everything and nothing at once.
He’d rented out the entire park that day, opening it to families for free parents, children, couples hoping their joy would fill the silence that haunted him. But even in the crowd, he was alone. Maybe it was because this was the second birthday he was celebrating without her beside him.
He took a slow drag from the cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily into the air as he scanned the playground. That was when his gaze caught Tomline, laughing freely, and unrestrained for the first time in months.
Curiosity flickered in Nix’s eyes. What could possibly make Tomline laugh like that again?
His answer came when his gaze dropped lower to the woman in the wheelchair. There was something oddly serene about her, a soft light that didn’t seem to belong in the noisy chaos of the park. The sight drew a faint chuckle from him.
"Another love story is about to bloom," he murmured to himself, half amused, half weary.
He exhaled smoke, flicking ash to the ground. For a brief second, the laughter of others faded replaced by the low hum of his thoughts.
Maybe I’ve been too busy fighting ghosts to notice my siblings finding life again.
He turned slightly, his sharp eyes scanning the perimeter. That was when he noticed them the lurkers. Men pretending to be part of the crowd, eyes shifting too often, hands buried too deep in their pockets.
Nix’s expression hardened. He had told himself they wouldn’t follow him all the way to Italy not after the bombshell he dropped on the Dynasty. But he should have known better. Shadows had a way of following him, no matter how far he went.
Then something subtle, but wrong.
A man near the vendor’s cart poured a small amount of powder into a paper cup of ice cream before handing it to a young boy. Nix’s eyes narrowed instantly. His instincts screamed. He watched the man kneel, whisper something into the child’s ear, then point directly toward the woman Tomline had just left.
"I’m not the one they’re after," Nix muttered under his breath, dropping the cigarette and crushing it beneath his shoe. His jaw clenched as he moved, swift and deliberate, through the crowd.
He reached her just as she lifted the spoon toward her mouth the ice cream half melted, her expression bright and unsuspecting. In one motion, Nix snatched the cup from her hands and tossed it aside.
"What was that for?" she half-screamed, startled.
He didn’t answer immediately his pulse was still pounding from the sudden surge of adrenaline. She glared at him, one hand pressed to her chest.
"Are you one of the spies my dad sent to watch me?" she snapped. "It’s just ice cream, not poison. I’m not.."
"You were about.."
Nix’s words died in his throat.
The rest of the world fell away the chatter, the children’s laughter, the sound of music in the distance. All gone.
For the first time in years, he couldn’t breathe.
Her face...
The slope of her nose. The curve of her lips. The softness of her eyes the same eyes that used to look at him in candlelight, whispering promises he never thought he’d lose.
He took a single step back, as though the sight of her had struck him physically. His hand trembled slightly, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
"Carmela..."
The name fell from his lips in a broken whisper half disbelief, half prayer.
But she only looked up at him, confused, unaware of the storm she’d just awakened.