"It's fine," I manage, because I need this to end.
The tension breaks slowly. Conversation resumes, awkward and forced. Dad's watching Axel with an expression I can't read.
I excuse myself the second dessert is served.
The terrace is blessedly empty.
I lean against the railing, breathe in the night air. My hands won't stop shaking.
He made a joke about Mom. Actually made a joke about her murder.
And I'm supposed to marry this absolute bastard in three months.
"You okay?"
I don't need to turn around. I would know that voice even in my dream.
"I'm fine, Axel."
"You're crying."
I touch my face, and yeah, he’s right. I didn't even realize I was crying.
"She died when I was eight," I say quietly. "Shot by the Kozlov family. My father retaliated, killed every single one of them. But it didn't bring her back, nothing can bring her back to us."
Axel's quiet for a moment. Then: "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It was a long time ago."
"That doesn't make it hurt less."
He's right. It doesn't.
I turn to look at him. He's standing in the doorway, backlit by the house lights, and there's something in his expression that makes my chest ache.
"Thank you," I say. "For earlier. You didn't have to—"
"Yes, I did."
"He's going to be worse now. You embarrassed him in front of everyone."
"I don't care."
"You should. He's your son."
"He's a bastard who needs to learn respect." Axel steps onto the terrace. "And you don't deserve to be treated like that."
"I'm going to be his wife. I'll be treated however he wants." I shrug.
"No." The word come out snappy and annoyed. "You won't. Not while I'm around."
I shake my head and laugh because what else can I do at this point? "You can't protect me forever, Axel. Eventually, you'll have to let him—" I stop. Can't finish the sentence.
"You don't have to marry him."
I turn to look at him. Is he joking right now? "And what choice do I have, Axel?"
"Tell Luca. Tell him the baby's mine. We'll figure something out."