“All in favor of Alessandro Ricci serving as partner for the trials?”
Hands rise around the table.
Not unanimous, but enough.
“Motion carried.” Vitelli’s gaze moves between Bianca and me. “The first trial will take place in three days. You’ll receive details tomorrow morning. This meeting is adjourned.”
Relief floods through me as the formal pronouncement settles over the room.
I’m officially assigned as Bianca’s partner, which formalizes my protective role while keeping me close during what’s sure to be a dangerous period.
Whatever challenges the trials bring, at least I’ll be there to help her face them.
The dons begin filing out, their conversations shifting to private discussions and side negotiations.
But Matteo remains seated, his eyes fixed on Bianca with an expression that’s carefully controlled but determined.
“Bianca,” he says as she moves toward the door. “We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.” She doesn’t even look at him, her voice flat and dismissive.
“Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”
“I said no.” This time she does turn, and the coldness in her eyes would freeze hell. “You’re not my father, so stop acting like it.”
Matteo doesn’t even blink. “Iamyour father.”
“Save it.” She cuts him off with a gesture that’s pure dismissal. “I’m done taking orders from you, and I’m done pretending we’re family.”
The words are designed to cut, and I watch Matteo’s hands grip his wine glass tighter.
But his expression remains impassive, authoritative, even as I know the rejection is tearing him apart inside.
Bianca walks away, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she heads for the exit.
She doesn’t look back or show any sign that his obvious pain affects her at all.
I start to follow her, but movement in my peripheral vision makes me pause.
Dominic Calabrese is still seated at the table, his wine glass cradled in his hands as he watches the entire scene unfold with obvious fascination.
There’s something disturbing in his expression, something that suggests he’s filing away every detail of this family breakdown for future use.
The way his eyes track Bianca’s exit, the slight smile that plays at the corners of his mouth as he watches Matteo’s carefully maintained composure—it all screams of a man storing ammunition for later battles.
I make a mental note to keep a very close eye on Dominic Calabrese.
Whatever game he’s playing, it extends far beyond just testing Bianca’s worthiness.
He’s looking for weaknesses, fractures he can exploit, ways to destabilize the entire DeLuca power structure.
And right now, the fractured relationship between Matteo and Bianca is the biggest weakness he could ask for.
The instructions arrive at my hotel suite the next morning, delivered by a courier who disappears before I can even tip him.
The envelope is heavy, expensive paper with the kind of formal seal that screams old-world authority.
Bianca arrives twenty minutes later, her knock sharp and impatient.
