Chapter 50: Chapter 50

Mason watched her quietly from his desk as he tried to piece together the puzzle that was Elnora. The night had been long, filled with too many thoughts, too many worries, and a lot of tossing on her end. It was expected. She would be restless for a while. The doctor had cleared her, but Mason knew better. Wounds like hers weren’t physical—they ran deeper, and they festered in the silence.

Donni, on the other hand, was a different story. He was still clinging to life in the ICU, and the crippling fear that he might lose him ate away at Mason. Donni had been more than a lieutenant; he was the closest thing Mason had to a brother, and the thought of a world without that vicious bastard was unbearable. He scratched his brow with a small groan, trying to push away the grim thoughts that threatened to consume him. He couldn’t think like that—couldn’t afford to. Donni was too stubborn to die, and Mason needed to believe that.

But more than anything, Mason was intrigued—no, concerned—about what had happened between Elnora and Marcy. He’d noticed the friction between them, the way their conversation had become heated back there. Elnora hadn’t said a word about it since they’d returned, but he could guess. She must have confronted Marcy about being one of Elias’s girls, about being the reason they were tracked down. He wondered what else was said.

She stirred, reaching out for him on the bed, only to find an empty space beside her. A small smile tugged at his lips as he leaned forward on the desk, waiting for her to notice him. When she did, she smiled back, a tired, almost resigned smile, before flopping back onto the bed.

“~Buongiorno, bellezza~,” he greeted.

She mumbled a greeting in return, sitting up against the headboard, her eyes still heavy with sleep. He couldn’t wait to take her away from Eden, to bring her to his private residence where she would be safe—where they could be safe together. He had already commissioned a server room and workstation specifically for her, knowing she would fight him on it. But it didn’t matter. She was not going back to Neon Security without Mateo and Benny watching her every move, and she was never leaving his sight unless every possible security measure was in place. He wouldn’t allow it, not after everything that had happened.

But there were still loose ends to tie up, and the biggest one was the truth about her father. He knew he couldn’t keep it from her much longer, didn’t want her to think he was withholding it deliberately. He wondered how much more she could take before she broke.

“What are you working on?” she asked, her voice pulling him from his thoughts.

Mason’s eyes followed her as the black duvet slid off her body, revealing the full glory of her naked form. His breath hitched, the sight of her so casually standing there, completely unguarded, was almost too much. She wiggled her brows at him with a mischievous smile before strutting into the bathroom, leaving him with the tantalizing memory of her perfect ass swaying as she walked away.

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to focus on his work, but the urge to join her in the bathroom enticed him. She was a distraction he couldn’t resist. She was everything he’d ever wanted, everything he couldn’t afford to lose, and that terrified him.

But he stayed where he was, forcing himself to look at the files on his screen, to focus on the work that needed to be done. There would be time for her later, he promised himself. Time to tell her everything, to hold her, to protect her from the world he’d dragged her into. But for now, he had to get back to work, had to resist the pull of her, even as every fibre of his being screamed at him to follow her.

A taste of her own medicine, he thought with a smirk.

Mason forced himself to turn back to the files Gia had uncovered, and his eyes drifted to the image on his screen—a photo of Elnora’s father. He scrutinized the man’s features, trying to find some trace of Elnora in them. But there was nothing. No resemblance, no shared traits that might have linked them by blood. It didn’t add up. He had seen Elnora’s mother too—an equally unlikely match to produce someone like Elnora, an Afro-Latina beauty from two purely Caucasian parents. Adoption was the only explanation that made sense.

When Elnora stepped out from the bathroom in a beige silk robe, his thoughts scattered like ashes in the wind. His gaze was immediately drawn to her, tracing the curve of her body beneath the fabric. The files on his screen faded into the background as she crossed the room and slid onto his lap. Her fingers threaded through his hair as she kissed him, the taste of her lingering on his lips as she smiled into his eyes.

“How are you?” he asked, for what felt like the hundredth time since they’d returned to Eden.

She laughed softly. “Aren’t you tired of asking me that already?”

“Not until I’m sure you’re really all right, ~bella~.”

Her smile widened, and it was impossible not to return it. “I love the way you say ~bella~, but hearing you say my name? That’s something else entirely.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Elnora it is then.”

“Hmm.” Her arms tightened around his shoulders, her body warm and soft against his. “There’s the stuff.”

His heart pounded as he held her, a war raging inside him between the need to talk and the desire to keep her close, to lose himself in her. But he couldn’t afford to keep this from her any longer. She needed to know. As if sensing his hesitation, she glanced at the computer screen, and he felt himself tense. Her gaze lingered on the image of her father before she turned to him.

“Did you find out something about my father?” she asked, reaching for the mouse to scroll through the documents without waiting for an answer.

“It isn’t good, El,” he admitted.

Her hand stilled on the mouse, and a sudden rush of panic coursed through him.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” she murmured. “That’s why there’s no trace of him. The De Lauros killed him.”

Mason took her by the waist and gently turned her to face him. The look in her eyes nearly broke him. “Amelia killed him when he refused to give her the formula for a drug that would have made Xor rich. El, I’m so sorry. My family did this to yours. I understand if you hate me for it.”

She stared at him, her expression hardening, then slipped off his lap and walked into the living room. He watched her go, torn between giving her the space she needed and wanting to be there for her. After a moment, he pushed himself up from his desk and followed her, finding her standing by the window, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she stared out the window.

Mason approached her cautiously. “El…”

She stood with her back to him, staring out, her reflection a faint outline against the glass. The silence between them was suffocating, a void filled with everything left unsaid.

“I’m here,” he said softly, the words hollow and desperate. He knew they weren’t enough, but he didn’t have anything else to offer. Watching her, he felt his guilt and the inevitability of her rejection crushing him. He had been prepared for the truth to hurt her, but seeing the devastation in her eyes made him hate himself for being the one to shatter her world.

“El, please… say something,” he urged. “If you want nothing to do with me any more, I understand.”

She turned to him slowly, a smile curling on her lips, but it wasn’t the smile he loved. It was a mask, delicate and exquisite, hiding the storm beneath.

“Why do you feel so guilty about something you didn’t do?” she asked.

He sighed, the heaviness in his chest growing unbearable. “No matter what, I was a De Lauro. I’ll always be a constant reminder of what my family did to yours.”

She tilted her head slightly, studying him with a curiosity that unnerved him. “That’s something I haven’t quite figured out. Were you adopted by the De Lauros?”

He chuckled. “Amelia was my stepmother. I was her husband’s son from an affair with a woman in Ordridge. My mother had me, handed me off to my father, and then disappeared. I’ve never met her, never known anything about my maternal family except for their name—Dimitri.” He hesitated, the bitterness in his voice betraying him. “I never tried to find her. If she cared, she wouldn’t have given me away.”

Elnora nodded. “I’m glad Amelia got what she deserved—for my father.” There was a hint of cold satisfaction in her voice, but it quickly faded. “Still, I wonder if Ric knew about my father.”

The thought twisted something dark in Mason’s gut. “What good would that do?” He couldn’t hide the unease in his voice, the dread that she might want to confront Enrico, to open old wounds that had barely begun to heal.

“Nothing at all.” She sighed. “I appreciate you finding this out. It’s good to finally know.”

Mason watched her, searching for something in her eyes, something that would tell him where she stood, what she was feeling. “You don’t want revenge?”

She laughed softly, but there was no humour in it, only a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. “I’m tired of revenge and plotting, Mason. They only lead to more chaos, and no matter what I do, it won’t bring my father back. The person who killed him is already dead. Who else am I going to hurt? Ric? You?”

The raw truth in her words left him speechless. He wanted to say something, to offer comfort, to tell her it was okay to want justice, but all he could do was nod, accepting the hard reality she had laid bare. Maybe, he thought, she’d feel differently once she had time to process everything.

Mason watched her approach, her smile warm. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, knowing full well that nothing he could offer would erase the damage done.

“Yes.” She nodded. “I want a fresh start. But first, I want to know everything—about you, Amelia, Enrico—how it all spiralled into this mess.”

His heart tightened at the thought of dredging up those buried memories. He’d spent years trying to lock them away, but he’d promised her honesty. This was what she wanted, and he couldn’t refuse her.

“Anything you want,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against her cheek, committing to this path. He already knew where he would begin—at the very place where her presence first unsettled the cold, methodical world he’d built.

“Good,” she said. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead.” Elnora moved past him, heading toward the bedroom.

“What work?” Mason followed her, a mix of concern and curiosity in his voice. “El, you need to rest up and heal. You’ve been through a lot.”

She paused beside the bed, her back to him. “There’s no time for that. We have an underground to rebuild, networks to establish, a collective to reorganize. And I need to get back to Neon. There’s too much to do.”

He reached her in two strides, gently turning her to face him. “Tell me what happened with Marcy.”

Elnora rolled her eyes, and he smiled. Even now, that small, defiant gesture reminded him why he was so utterly captivated by her.

“Elnora, come on.”

“Fine,” she relented, a giggle escaping her lips—a sound that he cherished. “You remember Mr. Elias, don’t you?”

He stiffened at the mention of that name, recalling the fury he felt when he found Elias speaking to her at l’Eclipse. The nerve of that man, thinking he could demand her as part of a business deal.

“Yes, I remember him. The scum.” His voice was taut. “Did you find out she’s one of those orphan girls he sponsors? The ones he uses for his own twisted purposes?”

Elnora’s eyes widened at him, but not because he was aware of it. “So it’s a business for him?”

“One of his most lucrative. It’s how he got into bed with the Germain syndicate and established his place in the underground.”

“But Marcy isn’t an orphan,” she countered, frowning.

Mason shook his head. “If she’s under Elias’s thumb, she’s as good as. He finds these girls, usually around five or six years old, ensures they have no living family, then ‘cleans them up.’ Gives them everything they could want—a fake family, luxury, the works and plants them into jobs and positions that he can exploit. But they’re tethered to him for life. Their handlers control every aspect of their existence. There’s no escaping it.”

She whipped her hair as she turned on him. “But Marcy—there has to be a way out. He’s been using her to steal my work at Neon! There is no forgiving that!”

Mason leaned in, his hands framing her face, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. “We’ll figure something out. So far, I haven’t had any reason to cross paths with Elias, but for you, I will.”

He pulled her into a hug, feeling her frustration ease as she settled into his embrace. The thought of tangling with Elias was anything but appealing. They’d just gone to war with the Russians, but the Germans? That was a different beast entirely. He wasn’t keen on burning bridges with a power like that.

But getting Elias to release Marcy from his clutches? That might be possible, especially with Elnora’s skills as a bargaining chip. Elias wanted her expertise, and maybe—just maybe—there was room to negotiate.

“I’m curious,” Mason murmured as he studied Elnora. Her eyes met his, guarded but curious. “Did she know who Joe was?”

She nodded, a bitter smile playing on her lips. “The whole time.”

“So she lied to you. The entire time.”

Elnora moved to the edge of the bed, sitting down with a heavy sigh. “Our whole friendship was built on lies.”

He hesitated, knowing what he needed to say might shatter whatever fragile balance was left. “El, even if she wanted to tell you the truth, she couldn’t. Both of you could’ve ended up dead. In her twisted way, she was trying to keep you safe.”

She turned to him, scepticism flickering in her eyes. “Whose side are you on?”

He allowed a small, sad smile. “Yours, always. But think about it—your friend has been trapped in this mess since before she could think for herself. You can’t imagine what that’s like. If she didn’t care about you, she wouldn’t have tried to protect you. So, ask yourself, would you rather spend your time hating her or trying to help her?”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re on my side,” she replied.

Mason crossed the room to stand beside her, taking her hand in his. “I’m always on your side, but I’ll also tell you the truth. You love Marcy, and despite everything, she’s the only person you’ve ever called a friend. I don’t want you to lose that because of something she had no control over.” He lifted her face to his, his voice dropping to a gentle command. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll move heaven and earth to make it happen.”

He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”

Her eyes searched his, a sparkle breaking through the haze of confusion. “I want my best friend back.”

He nodded, his lips brushing the back of her hand in a soft, reverent kiss. “Consider it done,” he promised.