The second article went on about the wedding, the A-list guests that were expected to attend, how much the wedding of the year was going to cost. I clicked that off, too. I couldn’t read an article about their wedding after I’d just imagined their horrendous deaths.
The third and final article gave details about Vittorio’s death. It was all speculation, though. No one really knew what had happened to him, but I could tell the article hinted at his father and brother, but the writer was too afraid to come out and directly say it.
Vittorio Lupo Scarpone had become an urban legend, in a sense. Some people, the article claimed, didn’t think he was dead. They thought that after his attempted murder, he took hidden money and lived on a private island somewhere, to escape the evil clutches of his family.
Like 2Pac. Or better yet, Niccolò Machiavelli. The root of the 2Pac theory. Even Elvis. All of those “is he or isn’t he dead?”magazine headlines.
“Fucka me,” I said.
I sat there for a minute, biting my lip, until I took my rosary out. I settled some after rubbing the pearls, but not entirely. My anxiety rose even higher after I searched for Noemi Ranieri Scarpone. She was even more beautiful than Angelina. Black hair. Blue Eyes. Tan skin. Thin. Big smile. The very first article spoke about her killing herself. It was rumored that she had a long history with a mental disorder.
I scrolled down a bit, familiar with the story, but what I hadn’t known was that she had left a note behind for Vittorio.
The article claimed that no one had ever seen the note, but it was rumored to have said:Marry for loyalty, not for love. Love kills the soul quicker than a sharp dagger to the heart.
Even though it didn’t make me feel any better, if Noemi had left that behind, it explained so much about my husband’s aversion to love.
“Looking for something?”
I made anahh!noise, jumped, and the computer flew through the air, my knees liftoff point. We both scrambled to get to the computer at the same time, but he was quicker. It didn’t matter anyway; we had to have this conversation sooner or later.
I thought he was going to look at what I’d been looking at, but instead, he handed me the computer. Then he took a seat on the bed, his back to me. Instead of the computer, I grabbed the rosary, worrying it between my fingers.
Time. So much time went by—ten minutes? Which felt like a lifetime to me. Finally, I couldn’t stand the tension any longer. “Why didn’t you tell me who you are, Vittorio?”
“I gave you permission to call me any name you’d like. You even named me. Capo. But that name…that one is off limits. It belongs to someone else.”
“A ghost,” I said.
“A ghost.”
“You killed my parents,” I whispered.
“There was no other choice.” He sighed. “I didn’t mind killing your father, but I didn’t want to take your mother away from you. She was a good woman, but she married the wrong kind of man. She knew I had to. She begged me to. If I didn’t kill her, give her an easy death, Achille would’ve been sent in my place.
“He’s stupid in some ways, but when it comes to locating someone, he’s relentless. He would’ve sniffed her out eventually. Too many people knew her face. Even in Italy they would’ve found her. They have connections there, too. At that point, your parents had little money. They’d been hiding from Arturo for a while. What I did to her was a mercy compared to what Achille would’ve done. The only thing better for Achille would’ve been making your father watch as he did it.”
“He never found me.” I squeezed the rosary, hoping it wouldn’t pop from the strain.
“There’s one person who’s better at tracking than him. Better at hiding, too.”
“You.”
“I was certain they wouldn’t find you. They didn’t. I even went as far as renaming you in the blood database.”
“How did—how did they know you let me go?”
“A man playing two sides of the game was hiding in your parents’ place that night. He was getting information from your father and then delivering it to Arturo. If Arturo seemed like he was worried about something, or growing weaker, the rat would tell your father. He didn’t know who to place his bets on. You were an unforeseen circumstance that I didn’t bargain for. I should’ve checked the place twice but didn’t. I wanted to get you out. The rat came to me the next day, telling me what he’d done—he told Arturo that I didn’t kill you, that I hid you. I killed him after, but it was too late. He’d already ratted to Arturo and Achille.”
“Your father had you killed because you let an innocent child go?”
“Yes and no.” He sat forward some, pressing his palms together. “Yes. In that world, you leave no member of a rival family alive. For example, if you would’ve found out later on what I’d done to your parents, you might’ve wanted revenge. If you no longer existed, that takes care of that. The yes also includes disobeying his orders. I was instructed to make your father watch as I killed you and your mother in front of him. Arturo wanted him to suffer for challenging him, for trying to slit his throat. Your father had that same ruthless streak about him. He was hungry to lead and thirsty for blood. He wanted Arturo’s place in that world. If I wouldn’t have killed Palermo, even knowing you and your mother were in danger, he would’ve gone after Arturo again.”
“Why else?” I said when he stopped talking. “You said yes and no. You gave me the yes.”
“It was only a matter of time before I did something to get myself executed. Achille wanted the throne for himself. Time and time again, I proved myself as ruthless as him, even smarter, and he couldn’t stand it. No matter what I did, he’d run back and tell Arturo how I somehow fucked it up. I was ‘too pretty to rule.’ No one would take me seriously.Arturo gave me an out, and I refused to take it. I even told him I’d challenge Achille to a fight, if that’s what it took. He told me there was no need to fight Achille. I’d rule beside the king, and after he was too old to rule, the kingdom was mine.
“Then one night we were at a party. All of these powerful political figures were there. Arturo had been out to get this one guy in his pocket but never could. Arturo saw the two of us talking and came over. Political told Arturo that he wanted someone like me to work for him. I was smart. Had a plan. ‘As charming as they come.’
