"Information about your family. Your routines. Your weaknesses." Giovanni shifts in the chair, dried blood flaking from his chin. "She approached only me because—" He pauses, that broken laugh bubbling up again. "Because she said Riccardo was trusting me."
"What the hell does that even mean?" The words explode from me before I can stop them. Riccardo died six months ago. If Luna approached Giovanni around the same time...
"Means what it means." Giovanni's tongue probes his split lip again. "Your dead brother trusted the wrong people. Just like you're doing now."
Pietro's fist connects with Giovanni's ribs. The crack echoes off concrete walls.
"Where is she now?" I lean forward, close enough to smell the copper tang of his blood.
"I don't know."
"Bullshit."
"I don't." Giovanni wheezes through the pain. "She contacted me. Never the other way around. Different phones each time. Different meeting spots. The woman's a ghost."
"A ghost who pays well." Nico steps forward, tablet in hand. "Speaking of payment—who else bought information from you?"
Giovanni's good eye slides to Nico, then away. His jaw sets.
"Names," Pietro demands, grabbing Giovanni's hair and yanking his head back. "Every fucking name."
Silence stretches between us, broken only by Giovanni's labored breathing.
"The Corellis?" I prompt.
Nothing.
"The Benedettis?"
Still nothing.
"All of them." Nico looks up from his tablet. "Jesus Christ, you sold to all of them."
"Information is currency." Giovanni finally speaks. "And I've been rich for years."
"Names." I stand, looming over him. "Every contact, every buyer, every secret you sold."
"Or what? You'll kill me?" Giovanni laughs. "I'm dead already. Have been since you dragged me here."
"There are worse things than death."
"Like what? Torture?" He spits again. "I'm seventy-three years old, Lorenzo. My body's already torture."
I study him, this man who helped raise us, who sat at our table for decades while selling us out.
"Nico, how much would it take to destroy someone financially? Complete ruin?"
My brother's fingers fly across his tablet. "Depends on their assets. But with the right information?—"
"You have three children." I keep my voice conversational. "Seven grandchildren. College funds, trust funds, mortgages."
Giovanni goes still.
"Your oldest grandson just got into Harvard. Full ride would mean everything to your daughter." I pull out my phone, scrolling through files Nico pulled. "Your youngest son's restaurant is three months behind on rent. Your middle daughter's husband needs experimental treatment for his 'car accident'. Insurance won't cover it."
"You wouldn't."
"I'm not going to hurt them." I set my phone on the table. "I'm going to do nothing. Absolutely nothing. No protection, no money, no influence. They'll sink on their own."
