Chapter 412: Insane Goal

Whitney’s greatest regret after leaving the island had been walking away without a proper goodbye. She had carried that weight every single day since, and when she heard news of his death, it had broken something open in her. Now, knowing he was alive, she was not going to let herself leave that kind of wound unhealed again.

Vito leaned forward, his head bowed, his hands tightening slowly around her waist. When he spoke, his voice was entirely his own no performance, no careful distance. Just quiet, steady concern. “Take care of yourself. Don’t give me a reason to worry.”

Whitney’s fingers curled into his shirt, trembling. Her tears fell without restraint. “I will,” she whispered.

He drew back gently and cupped her face in both hands, wiping her cheeks with his thumbs. Her small face looked almost fragile held like that, the contrast between his hands and her features stark and tender. His gaze moved over her slowly, carrying things he didn’t say aloud. “You’ve lost weight again. Eat well. Stay healthy. Live your life fully.”

More tears came even as he wiped them away. She looked up at him, her voice breaking. “And what about you?”

“I still have work to do.”

He reached into his pocket and drew out a necklace strung with threads of different colors, placing it carefully around her neck. Whitney let out a small, wet laugh. “You, of all people, putting faith in something like this?”

“If it means you’re safe, I’ll bow to every altar I find.” His voice went softer. “Whitney. I have to go.”

“Vito.” Desperation threaded through her voice. “Don’t you dare die. You owe me your whole life.”

He rested one hand lightly on top of her head, offering a smile that barely covered everything underneath it. “I’ll remember that.”

Her fingers released his shirt slowly, reluctantly, like they were making a decision her whole body disagreed with. He adjusted his coat, then turned and walked toward me. His voice dropped low. “Keep an eye on Sera.”

Then he raised it again, shifting back into the professional calm of Dr. Mervin as he moved toward the door. “Mrs. Hale, Ms. Morrigan needs rest over the next few days. Light meals, no drafts, no pushing herself.”

“Thank you, Dr. Mervin,” I said. “We’ll be in touch if anything changes.”

He nodded once and walked out without looking back, medical bag in hand.

..

I stepped into Whitney’s room and closed the door. From the corner of my eye I caught Sera near the window, her gaze fixed on something outside. Whitney had her hands and face pressed against the glass, watching Vito’s figure grow smaller until the dark swallowed him entirely. He must have felt her eyes on his back. He didn’t turn around.

Sera stood quietly, her expression composed, unreadable. Whatever she was thinking, she kept it behind her face. Her silence about the pregnancy, about everything it accumulated in a way that was hard to ignore.

Whitney had followed him barefoot from the room to the balcony without realizing she’d done it, drawn forward by something that moved faster than thought. The look on her face was the kind of sorrow that didn’t ask permission.

Twenty years of shared life creates something that runs deeper than affection. It becomes the water you breathe without knowing it. Whitney had spent years wanting to be free of it, and the moment she’d thought it was gone, she’d discovered she couldn’t survive the absence. The fish doesn’t know what the water is until it lands on dry ground gasping.

“Whitney,” I said gently. “Your fever just broke. Come inside.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

She returned to bed and lay down, her fingers tracing the threads of the necklace automatically, like they needed something to hold onto. “I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” she said quietly. “He’s the one who hurt our family. And yet ”

I ran my fingers through her hair. “That’s not mine to judge. If you looked at it from the Blackwells’ side, we’d be the ones who caused harm. Stop measuring yourself by the past. Just live in a way you won’t regret.”

Her eyes were uncertain. “He’ll be alright, won’t he?”

“He will,” I said firmly. “He’s working in the shadows while everyone else is exposed. That’s an advantage, not a weakness.”

Something shifted in her expression the uncertainty settling into something quieter and more resolved. “Can you book me that appointment with the therapist?”

I blinked. “Are you planning to drive him to early retirement?”

“No.” She almost smiled. “The organization needs to believe the Blackwells are really gone. Luther keeps appearing because he thinks he can use me to draw Vito out. My being sick only makes the story more convincing. We go back to acting like we know nothing you make the appointment, I perform grief, and we let them see exactly what we want them to see.”

I looked at her for a long moment. “Whitney. You’re brilliant.”

She laughed tiredly. “Is the therapist actually as good-looking as you said?”

“Absolutely.”

We shared a quiet laugh small, exhausted, real. A brief pause in the middle of everything pressing down on us.

..

When I came out of her room, Sera appeared from the hallway, her expression arranged into careful concern. “Aunt Elena Ms. Morrigan hasn’t left her room in days. Is she alright?”

“She got caught in the rain, caught a fever, and it just broke. She’s still weak.” I kept my tone easy. “It’s more her heart than her body, honestly. Someone close to her passed away recently. That kind of pain doesn’t respond to medicine.”

Sera’s brow softened. “Poor thing. She’s already so thin.”

Julian walked in before she finished the sentence. We acknowledged each other with a brief nod we shared a house, but not much else. “Aunt Elena,” he said stiffly.

“You’re back,” I replied, and went upstairs.

From the landing I heard Sera’s voice shift into something softer as she moved toward him. I paused just long enough to see Julian pull his hand away from hers without breaking stride. “I’m going to my room,” he said, flat and final.

“Julian…” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

I didn’t watch the rest. I’d already seen enough. She stood in the courtyard alone, watching him walk away, her small figure carrying more than it should have had to.

..

Lewis was freshly showered when I came in, the clean faint scent of him settling over me as he pulled me close. “Is he gone?”

“Yes. He told me to watch Sera.” I leaned into him. “I’ve been watching. Nothing obvious yet.”

Lewis guided me to sit beside him. “What about Sheila? Do you think she noticed something, even back then?”

I thought about it. Without Sheila’s connection to Wisteria, certain truths might have stayed buried entirely. “What are you getting at?”

His expression was serious. “I don’t think the organization is only after the Hales.”

The implication landed slowly, and then all at once. “You think there are others. Women placed inside powerful families, like Wisteria was placed with the Hales.”

“Exactly. Take the Hudsons one of Jaford’s most influential bloodlines. What if Sera was originally positioned there, and ended up as a contingency when Wisteria failed? Her real mission might be to finish what Wisteria couldn’t.”

I sat with that. If it was true, this wasn’t just a few ruthless individuals running a scheme. This was organized, far-reaching, and patient in a way that was genuinely frightening.

“Money might only be part of it,” Lewis said quietly. “What they might actually want is control. Over the most powerful families, their resources, their influence. All of it.”

The scale of it made something in my chest go cold. Their ambition wasn’t just dangerous.

It was the kind that had no natural ceiling.

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