“Did she look happy?” The questions tumbled over one another, the room suddenly alive with hope and nerves, every eye fixed on Cesar for the answers we all needed.
Cesar lifted his hand, and the room instantly quieted, the barrage of anxious questions fading into an expectant hush. Every eye was fixed on him, drawn by the hope that he held answers they desperately needed. The oldest Vitale brother glanced down at his phone once more, searching for any new messages, his expression steady and reassuring. Finally, he looked up, his voice bringing a sense of calm to the charged atmosphere. “Luca just said she looks tired but good. She’s not giving anything away,” Cesar reported, his words offering a measure of comfort, though the tension beneath the surface remained unbroken.
Guilio’s lips curled into a confident smile, his certainty evident. “She passed,” he declared, his eyes dancing with pride. “I know she did. She knew every answer I threw at her.” His words were filled with the conviction of someone who had witnessed her dedication firsthand.
Aurelio nodded in agreement, his tone reflecting a shared experience. “We all walked around with those cards for weeks, testing her every time she was around.” The memory brought a brief moment of levity, recalling the countless hours spent quizzing her, making sure she was prepared for every possibility.
Emanuelle offered a knowing smirk, glancing toward me. “You know, Massimo, if she passes—and I know she did—she’s going to be gone a lot more. I hear residency isn’t a joke. Long hours, and more studying.” His words, though teasing, carried a note of truth about the challenges that lay ahead.
Guilio’s expression shifted as he reflected on his own experience. “My residency damn near killed me,” he admitted, a grimace flashing across his face. “It was grueling. My attending was not nice and treated me as if I were a moron.” Then, unable to resist, Guilio broke into a grin. “But he got his in the end. I made his life a living hell.” The laughter that followed eased the tension, if only for a moment, as we waited for her return.
The anticipation in the room built with every passing minute, the silence punctuated only by nervous glances and half-formed whispers. Each of us clung to the hope that Luca’s update was all we needed, desperate to believe that the hardest part was finally behind her. Somewhere deep inside, a sense of pride flickered—she had faced every challenge, and now, our family waited together for her next chapter to begin.
The sharp ring of Cesar’s phone cut through the tension in the room. Without hesitation, he picked up and answered, his tone direct and expectant. “Well?” The question seemed to hang in the air, drawing the attention of everyone present.
As Cesar spoke, I found myself barely listening to the conversation, my focus instead fixed on the windows, hoping for any sign that she was finally home. Still, Cesar’s words drifted clearly across the room, catching my attention. “And her choice of residency?” The question was loaded, hinting at decisions and futures yet to unfold.
At that moment, I turned to fully face my brother, catching the smile that spread across his face as he listened to the caller. “Thank you, Dean Fugato. I will have the donation dropped off before the end of the business day. Yes. I am happy as well.” With those words, Cesar ended the call and rose from his seat, his smile broadening.
There was no need for my brother to say anything further.
His expression alone said it all.
She passed.
A few hours later, I found myself sitting on the edge of our bed, quietly observing her as she moved with deliberate care, rolling the black silk stockings up her legs, every motion slow and precise. It was a private moment I cherished, one of countless others since we started this journey together and something I would never admit too. The memory of the day after our wedding lingered vividly in my mind, marking a clear line between the life she had known and the one we now shared. Those first three days were a blur of passion and discovery as I kept her close, teaching her the rules that governed my world, savoring every second we spent together behind closed doors.The mere recollection of that time stirred something deep within me, an ache that refused to be ignored or denied.
I would be lying if I said she surrendered easily. That was never her way. The stubborn woman challenged me constantly, resisting at every turn, refusing to yield simply because I demanded it.
In the end, it was not about one of us prevailing over the other. Instead, we reached a place of mutual understanding, a truce that acknowledged both our strengths and our stubbornness.
My word remained law, yet I allowed her the illusion of freedom she so fiercely protected. This delicate balance became the foundation of our life together—a constant push and pull, defined by respect, desire, and the silent agreements only we could understand.
While my wife spent her days at school and her nights studying at the library or at home with her medical books, my brothers and I searched for the missing pieces that would clear our family name.
Each night, as I watched my wife pore over her studies, I felt both admiration for her dedication and a growing frustration at the secrets that haunted our family. We knew it was her grandfather, Armando Pisano, who gave the order to eradicate our family, but we still didn’t know why. And as Cesar had said many times,the why was what mattered most.
The truth about my wife’s identity was a secret my brothers and I protected with almost desperate fervor. To everyone beyond our tight-knit circle, Miranda Williams Vitale was merely the beloved adopted daughter of Leeroy and Roxy Franks—her actual history carefully concealed behind that gentle fiction. My wife never questioned the validity of what she knew, never suspected there might be more lurking beneath the surface. But I knew—perhaps better than anyone—that secrecywas only ever temporary. Sooner or later, she would unearth the truth about who she was... and about the part I played in orchestrating her path into my life. And that possibility haunted me.
My fears weren’t rooted in mere embarrassment or the unraveling of a single lie—they were far more profound. If Miranda uncovered the real story before my brothers and I could expose the rest of those responsible for our parents’ deaths, the fragile trust we’d built with her would shatter. She was fiercely loyal, but her sense of justice burned even brighter. Hurt by betrayal, she could devastate us—not just by leaving, but by dismantling every safeguard we’d labored to construct. Cesar’s position on the Italian Council, the legitimacy of our family name, all the hard-won alliances could collapse with a word from her lips. She held the power, whether she realized it or not, to bring down everything we had sacrificed for.
That knowledge gnawed at me daily, guilt weaving itself through my every interaction with her. I’d watch Miranda laugh with Cesar around the kitchen table, her eyes shining as she teased him about his old-world manners, and I’d feel a hollow ache inside. Anxiety pressed against my chest when she reached for my hand in the dark, her trust a weight I wasn’t sure I deserved. As the lie between us grew heavier with every passing day, I wondered how much of us would survive its exposure.
I often found myself recalling the night my brothers, Miranda, and I sat together sharing a rare moment of peace beneath the stars. We’d laughed until tears ran down our faces, passing a bottle of wine and memories between us, secure in the illusion of being whole, being safe. That night, I remembered thinking that happiness was possible, even after all we’d lost. But every time I looked at my wife now, I was reminded of how fragile that happiness truly was.
If Miranda discovered everything before we were ready—before we had justice for our parents and could finally tell her the truth ourselves—then our family might not survive. Not just the trappings of power and position, but the love and sense of belonging we had fought so hard to keep alive. That was the real cost of my deception, and it was a price I was terrified to pay.
A phone ringing made me look up as Miranda smiled warmly, answering it as she placed her phone on her dresser, hitting the speaker button. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Likewise, sis. I miss you,” I clearly heard her brother, Jackson, on the other line and stiffened.
“Is everything alright?” he asked, his tone worried.
“Everything is perfect, Jackson. I’m studying for my upcoming finals, and I’m thinking of joining a sorority. It’s all so surreal, but amazing,” she replied, glancing at me before quickly changing the subject. “What about you?”
I hated that she had to lie to her brother, to her family, but with everything going on in the biker world and with the threat to her still lingering here in Chicago, Cesar and I agreed the less her family knew the better. It wasn’t right, and she detested lying, but in the end, she agreed for the safety of her family.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just wanted to check in with you. Needed to hear your voice.”
