Izzy’s hand flies to her mouth. “Oh.”
Cat blinks twice, then she looks like she's recalibrating. “That makes… several things make more sense.”
Violet doesn’t speak. Her eyes soften—understanding slotting into place.
I give them the shape of it. Not the veins, just the bones: how it fits with the timelines, the whispers, the way doors opened that shouldn’t have. How the edges around Raffael’s life suddenly look less like luck and more like a shadow that had a name.
Violet clears her throat once. “There’s something I have to add.” She looks… uncomfortable, a nurse breaking a confidence she wishes didn’t exist. “When Marcello killed Donna Margarita?—”
“Wait.” The word leaves me in a gasp. “She’s dead?”
Violet nods, small. “Yes.” She pauses, takes a deep breath, “Some of what she said before—some of what shespilled—wasn’t meant to die with her.”
The room goes still again. Cat's eyes tick to the door, then back, reading the air.
Violet glances at me for permission. I nod. “Say it.”
“She said Igor Pavlov was her brother,” Violet says quietly. “Not a myth. Not a rumor. Her blood.” She exhales. “And he wasn’t just an enforcer. He was aninsurance policy. The kind that opens doors and closes mouths.”
Scarlet sits back with a low whistle. “So the bedtime story was real.”
Gigi’s brows knit. “Where did Margarita even come from? Who or what turned her into the kind of monster she was?”
We all shake our heads. No one knows. No one ever has.
“I’ll have Leo or Raffael dig into it,” I say. “They can check for… what? Birth records. Marriage licenses? Church registers? Whatever she scrubbed, there will be fingerprints.”
Scarlet clears her throat, looking uncomfortable as well, "We found out that Margarita had something on Edoardo. That’s how she forced him to marry her daughter, Isabella.”
“Leverage,” Cat murmurs, approving of the logic. “What kind?”
Scarlet shrugs, "We don't know yet."
"I bet it has something to do with Leonardo's death," I theorize the same thing Raf and I had last night. "If she helped Edoardo get rid of Leonardo, it would make sense that she blackmailed him."
"Let's not guess, let's find out for sure," Gigi cautions, and she's right. Theorizing is all good, but sometimes you come up with a narrative that you want to fit all the pieces in without realizing a square peg won't fit into a round hole.
Izzy recovers enough to find her pen. “So… ledger, letters, records. The Ghost as brother. Isabella as leverage over Edoardo.” She glances up. “Anything else we’re missing?”
Cat lifts her voice, "Margarita was the one running the Giordano family for years. She set Giovanni up to be killed by Enrico to cause trouble and to deter people from looking at her. That's why she had Izzy kidnapped by the Ghost. She thought she could control Roberto better," she sends an apologetic look Izzy’s way and gives her an assuring smile.
We fall quiet, then Gigi snorts, sudden and wicked, cutting the tension. “Look at us. Badass secret parliament, going behind our men’s backs.”
Scarlet tips her glass. “For their own good.”
“Foreveryone’sgood,” Violet corrects, a laugh warming the edge.
Izzy grins, nerves easing. “The neck turns the head.”
“Feathered neck,” Gigi reminds her, and we all laugh, a bit nervously, because none of us wants to betray our men. But we also want to keep them alive—safe from each other.
I catch my reflection in the window, women in a circle, drinks in hand, shadows at the doors, the Strip blazing below like a dare, and feel it click: this is my tribe. Raffael is my life, yes. But these women are my spine.
Violet exhales, tension unwinding in her shoulders. “We’re not trying to outplay them,” she says, half to herself. “We’re trying to make sure the people we love don’t get playedbythem.”
“Exactly,” I say.
Our phones light up again—meeting running late.
