I detail my rescue, Shelby coming for me, and the choice I made to help the Boyles bring our father to justice.
When I finish, Isabella is pale.Her untouched water glass sweats condensation onto the white tablecloth.She drains the Bordeaux from the wine glass.
“I had a feeling things were wrong,” she whispers.“Father hasn’t been the same since Mom passed.But this...”She shakes her head.“Trafficking.Children.How could he?”
“I’ve been asking myself the same question.”I take a sip of wine, washing away the bitterness of disillusionment.“The man who tucked us in at night and sobbed at Mom’s funeral—how did he become a monster?”
The waiter returns with our desserts.Neither of us moves to eat.
“The trial is tomorrow,” I say finally.“The founders will judge him.You know what that means.”
Isabella’s jaw tightens.“Execution.”
“If they find him guilty.Which they will, because the evidence is irrefutable.”I pause, letting the weight of those words settle between us.“I gathered that evidence, sis.I’m the reason our father will die.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing patterns on the tablecloth.When she speaks, her voice is surprisingly steady.
“You’re not the reason he’ll die.He is.His choices.His crimes.”She looks up, meeting my eyes.“You didn’t make him traffic human beings.You didn’t make him sell Lucia Rossi to some monster.You just shone a light on what was already there.”
The absolution in her words loosens the steel bands that have been crushing my heart.I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear them until now.
“What happens to us?”Isabella asks.“After.What happens to the DiLorenzo name, the family business?”
“I’ve been thinking about that.”I push my Tiramisu around with a fork.“The legitimate businesses can survive.The oil company, the import business, the real estate holdings—those are clean.We can rebuild on that foundation.”
“But the Syndicate connections?The power?The influence?”
“Gone.”I don’t sugarcoat it.“At least temporarily.Joe will have to earn back whatever trust the families are willing to extend.It could take years.”
“Joe.”Isabella’s expression shifts, a seriousness beyond her years moving behind her eyes.“Has he accepted the truth about Father?”
“I think so.He didn’t want to believe it at first.None of us did.But the evidence is overwhelming.”I hesitate.“He’s been talking to Dave Boyle, working through the political implications.I think he’s trying to figure out how to hold what’s left of our family together.”
“While you testify against our father.”
The words hang between us, heavy and sharp.
“Yes.”I don’t look away from her gaze.“While I testify against our father.”
Isabella reaches across the table and takes my hand.“I’m not going to pretend this isn’t complicated.He’s still our father.Part of me will always love him, even knowing what he’s done.”Her grip tightens.“But Serena, if our positions were reversed, if I had found that evidence, I hope I would have your courage.”
“It’s not courage.”My voice breaks slightly.“It’s survival.It’s choosing love over fear.”
“That sounds like courage to me.”
We sit in silence for a moment, two sisters bound by blood and broken by the same lies.The DiLorenzo daughters, raised to be weapons in their father’s arsenal, finally turning that training toward justice.
“Lying in that dungeon, chained to a bed, wondering if Shelby would find me before Father decided I was more useful dead than alive—you develop clarity about what matters.”
“What do you mean?”
“Love.”The word comes out without hesitation.“Trust.Choosing the people who choose you back, even when it costs everything.”
“Shelby.”
“Shelby.”I allow my lips to curve into a grin.“He came for me.When Father had me locked away, Shelby came for me.No hesitation.”
“He loves you.”
