Since Luna is back—and alive—the house no longer feels like it's holding its breath.
It's louder again.
Not peaceful.
Just… active in a way that almost resembles normality.
Almost.
But nothing about what happened has been forgotten.
Not by me.
Not by my family.
And definitely not by hers.
Now, the mansion feels less like a home and more like a controlled meeting ground.
A strategic space.
Tonight, that becomes even more obvious.
They arrive one by one.
My father first.
Then my mother.
Then my grandfather.
Each of them stepping into the Gambino mansion like they own part of its silence.
Because in a way, they do.
Luna is somewhere upstairs.
Safe.
Watched.
Alive.
And that alone changes the reason for this meeting.
No longer survival.
Now… planning.
We sit in the main hall.
A long table.
Too polished.
Too formal.
Like we're not discussing a life, but a contract.
My father speaks first.
"The engagement incident cannot be left without response."
My grandfather leans back slightly. "It already sent a message. Weakness invites repetition."
I don't react outwardly, but I understand what they mean.
The attack during the engagement party wasn't random.
It was a signal.
And Luna became the target of that signal.
My jaw tightens slightly.
Adrian walks in halfway through the discussion.
No greeting.
No hesitation.
Just presence.
He takes a seat beside the table, glancing once at everyone.
"I assume this is about my sister," he says flatly.
My father nods.
"It is about stability," he corrects.
Adrian scoffs quietly. "Same thing in your language."
No one argues.
Because he's not wrong.
My mother speaks softer, but with weight.
"The engagement still stands," she says carefully. "But it cannot remain exposed. The next public move must be controlled."
My grandfather nods. "Bigger event. Stronger security. Clear dominance. No vulnerabilities."
A pause.
Then my father adds, "And proper timing."
All eyes shift slightly toward me.
Because this part always circles back to me.
To Luna.
To what she represents now in this structure.
Not just a person.
A connection between two families that now needs to be reinforced publicly.
A union that cannot appear shaken.
Not after blood was spilled.
Not after she was targeted.
Adrian breaks the silence.
"You're talking about her like she's a political asset."
The room stills slightly.
My grandfather doesn't deny it.
My father doesn't either.
That's answer enough.
I finally speak.
"She is not an asset," I say evenly.
Adrian looks at me directly. "Then stop planning her life like one."
A pause.
Heavy.
Controlled.
No one interrupts.
Because this isn't just emotion.
It's structure versus reality.
My grandfather studies me for a moment. "Sentiment does not protect her."
"I know," I reply.
"And neither does isolation," he adds.
That lands harder than expected.
Because it's true.
The distance I kept after the attack didn't protect her.
It only created space.
Space she noticed.
Space she questioned.
Space I didn't explain.
My mother folds her hands. "We are not repeating the same exposure risk. The next engagement event must be larger. Controlled media presence. Stronger alliances visible. No gaps."
Adrian leans back slightly. "So, distraction."
My father nods. "Strategy."
Adrian gives a short laugh. "You people really romanticize damage control."
No one responds.
Because he's right again.
I finally stand slightly from my chair.
Not fully.
Just enough to shift the attention.
"The event will proceed," I say calmly. "But not at the expense of her safety."
My grandfather studies me.
"That is assumed," he replies.
But I don't miss the implication.
Assumed safety is still conditional.
And conditions are where things break.
For a moment, silence fills the room.
Then my father speaks again.
"She will need to appear stable publicly," he says. "Recovered. Present. Strong."
Adrian's eyes narrow slightly.
"And if she refuses?"
No one answers immediately.
Because that's the real question.
Luna doesn't follow structure easily.
She never has.
And now, after everything, she will resist even more.
I already know that.
My voice lowers slightly. "She won't be forced."
My grandfather's gaze sharpens. "Then she will need to understand the importance of cooperation."
A pause.
I don't like that phrasing.
Not even slightly.
Footsteps interrupt before the tension escalates further.
Everyone turns.
Luna is at the top of the stairs.
Barefoot.
Hair slightly messy.
Wearing something casual that somehow still looks like she owns the entire space without trying.
She looks down at the table.
At all of us.
At the seriousness.
At the silence.
Then she speaks.
"…why does it look like I walked into a villain meeting?"
Adrian exhales immediately.
My mother softens slightly.
My grandfather doesn't react.
And I just look at her.
Because she has no idea what she just interrupted.
Or maybe she does.
That's the problem.
She walks down slowly now, arms crossed.
"I hope nobody is planning my life without me again," she says casually.
Adrian mutters, "Too late."
She glares at him.
Then shifts her gaze to me.
Longer.
Sharper.
Waiting.
I don't look away.
Because I can't.
Not now.
Not when she's standing there again—alive, unbroken in the ways that matter, still somehow the center of everything without trying.
The room waits for my response.
But all I can think is—
this is no longer just protection.
No longer just politics.
Now it's balance.
And she's standing right in the middle of it.