Lorenzo's absence tonight feels like a physical gap in the compound's architecture. He and Sophia moved out. Bought two floors in a high-rise downtown, all sleek glass and modern lines.
Good for him.
I mean it. Mostly.
My brother spent fourteen years frozen solid after Luna's—his ex— betrayal. Watching him thaw for Sophia, was the closest thing to hope I've felt in years.
But Lorenzo carried secrets.
Our father had another family. A whole other life none of us knew about. Lorenzo discovered it years ago and kept it buried. Aria will never know unless Bruno decides to weaponize the information during one of his cruel episodes. And Bruno?—
My jaw tightens.
Bruno kept secrets too. The argument between him and Lorenzo some weeks ago nearly brought the walls down around us.
"Scale of one to ten, how boring will tonight be?"
Vittoria appears beside me. She's wearing green with her dark hair swept up in an elegant twist. She looks beautiful. She looks like she's holding herself together with hairpins and willpower.
"Eleven," I tell her.
"Fantastic." She adjusts her clutch, checking her phone for the fifth time. "At least there's an open bar."
"You don't drink."
"Tonight I might start."
I study her profile. The slight tension around her eyes. Vittoria is twenty-three years old, and she's already lost her father and her oldest brother. Watched Bruno transform from the golden heir into something bitter and broken. Seen Lorenzo move out, Pietro become Don, our mother retreat to denial.
She's drowning, and she keeps pretending she can swim.
"Vic."
"Don't." She turns to face me, that false brightness firmly in place. "I'm fine. I'm always fine. Tonight will be fine. We'll smile at strangers, make small talk about charity initiatives we don't care about, and be home by eleven."
You're not fine. None of us are fine.
I don't say it. What would be the point? We all play our roles in this family. Pietro is the reluctant Don. Lorenzo is the diplomat who escaped. Bruno is the broken heir. And Vittoria is the princess who holds us together by pretending everything's normal.
Me? I'm the one who watches. Who sees the cracks spreading through the foundation.
Who does nothing to stop them.
"Mother's taking forever," Vittoria says, checking her phone again. "I texted her ten minutes ago."
"She's probably still with Bruno."
Vittoria's expression flickers. Just for a moment. Then the mask slides back into place. "He didn't want visitors today. I tried this morning."
"I know."
"Do you think he'll ever..." She trails off.
Be the brother we remember? Stop punishing everyone for his own pain? Forgive himself for surviving?
"I don't know."
It's the most honest answer I can give.
