"Marcello Orsi?" a stranger's voice greets me on the other end of the phone. Distracted, I watch the men set the contraptions up in the corners. I wonder what they could possibly be doing until I remember Violet'shumanetraps. Fuck.
"Yes, who is this?" I'm still a bit sidetracked.
"Enzo Carbone," the stranger announces, getting my full attention.
"I was about to call you," I say, walking into my office and closing the door behind me. My voice is calm, clipped. I've been waiting for this conversation.
"You found them," Enzo says, no question in his voice. Just quiet certainty. "My children."
"They're not your children," I reply, keeping my tone level. "You gave up that right when you let Bianca disappear with them. When you left them to their fate and let the world think they were dead."
"I didn'tletanything happen," he growls. "She ran. She stole everything from me—my name, my money, my blood." He exhales sharply through his nose. "And I paid for it. Every damn day."
I lean back in the chair behind my desk. "You're telling me this like I'm supposed to give a shit."
There's a beat of silence. A rustle, maybe him shifting in his seat.
"I don't want trouble with you, Marcello. I know who you are. I know what you're capable of. But I'm still their father. All I want… all I've wanted for years… is to see my kids again."
"You have a funny way of showing it," I snap. "Sending men to gun them down in a restaurant? Because that's what happened yesterday. Violet almost died."
A sharp inhale. "That wasn't supposed to happen. They were only supposed to bring her and the others in. Alive. My men got… carried away after you started shooting at them."
"You think I care about your excuses?" I slam my palm down on the desk, hard enough to rattle the pens. "They could havekilledher."
"I told themnotto hurt her!" Enzo barks, his mask of calm cracking. "I told them to bring her back to me. Herandher siblings. That's all I asked for."
"And what about Bianca?" I ask. "Did you tell them not to hurt her, too?"
"No," he says flatly. "Her, I want dead."
Of course he does. There's no hesitation in his voice, no remorse. And, I can't say that I blame him. If half of what I suspect is true, Bianca Carbone is a walking curse.
"I don't care about Bianca," I admit. "But your kids? They'reminenow. Violet is mine. And if you want any sort of contact with her—or the others—you'll have to go through me."
"I don't want a war, Marcello."
"You won't get one," I say, voice low. "Unless you force my hand. If you do, I'll end you, Enzo. And I'll sleep like a baby after."
He chuckles dryly. "You sound like me when I was your age."
"I'm not like you," I growl. "I don't let what's mine get taken from me."
"I never meant for them to get hurt," Enzo says again, and this time I hear something real behind it. Regret. Maybe even grief. "I thought they were gone. For so long, I mourned ghosts. And now they're breathing again. Laughing. Living. And I wasn't part of any of it."
"They don't need you now," I say. "Especially not Violet. She's strong because of what she survived, not because of you."
"I still want to see her."
"Well, that's going to be her decision. Not mine. Not yours.Hers."
Silence stretches across the line, heavy and simmering.
"I'll be in touch," Enzo finally says.
"You do that. But in the meantime, stay the fuck out of my city," I say, then hang up before he can reply.
I sit there for a long moment, staring at the silent screen in my hand, feeling a storm churn in my gut. This is just the beginning of my day.
