The cursor blinks at me accusingly.
My father would be disappointed. Giuseppe Sartori raised me to be smarter than this. To see threats before they materialized, to never let emotion cloud judgment. He'd sit in his study for hours, teaching me chess when I was barely tall enough to see the board, explaining how every piece had a purpose, every move had consequences.
"Vittoria, mia stella,"he'd say, tapping his temple."The game is won up here. Never let your opponent see what you're thinking."
I loved him so completely it felt like breathing. When he died something inside me shattered. I was thirteen and suddenly the world made no sense anymore.
Then Riccardo stepped in.
My oldest brother, fifteen years my senior, who'd always seemed more like an uncle than a sibling. He took over as Don, yes, but he also took over as my anchor. He'd show up at my door with gelato when I couldn't stop crying. He taught me to code when I needed something to occupy my mind besides grief. He never tried to replace our father.
Just quietly filled the empty spaces Giuseppe left behind.
And then he died too.
Everyone I love leaves.
I shove that thought down where it belongs, in the same locked box where I keep the other secret. The one that makes me want to scream every time I look at my mother's face.
Giuseppe Sartori, the man I worshipped, had another family. A whole other life none of us knew about. A woman. Children. Years of lies.
Everyone knows now.
Mamma doesn't.
We all agreed that telling Aria would destroy her. She's already lost her husband and her oldest son. Learning thatGiuseppe betrayed her for decades? That his heart was never fully hers?
It would kill her.
So I smile at family dinners when she is in Chicago and pretend my childhood memories aren't tainted. I watch my mother light candles at Giuseppe's portrait and bite the inside of my cheek until I taste copper. I carry this secret like a stone in my chest, getting heavier every day.
My phone buzzes against the desk. I glance at the screen, grateful for any distraction from the spiral my thoughts have taken.
Nora:Pietro needs you in his office. Something about the security system you worked on last month. He wants to show it to someone.
Nora O'Sullivan. Pietro's secretary and, somehow, the woman who managed to crack through my brother's titanium walls. She walked into Sartori Import & Export as a temp replacement. Now she's practically family.
I still remember the first time I caught Pietro staring at her. The ruthless Don of the Sartori family, reduced to stolen glances at his secretary.
It would be hilarious if it wasn't so terrifying.
Because Nora came with her own secrets. Irish mob princess turned fugitive, hiding from another family that wanted her dead. Pietro found out and instead of using the information, he burned down half of Boston's underworld to keep her safe.
Love makes monsters of men,our father used to say.And fools of the rest of us.
I type back a quick response.
Vittoria:On my way.
No point in arguing. When Pietro summons, we come. That's how this works.
I push back from my desk and catch my reflection in the dark monitor screen. Hair in a messy bun, oversized MIT hoodie, leggings. Not exactly boardroom appropriate, but Pietro's seen me in worse.
The walk from my room to Pietro's home office takes three minutes. I've counted. The compound is massive. Marble floors, vaulted ceilings, artwork worth more than most people's houses. All of it designed to intimidate.
I grew up here and it still works on me sometimes.
Pietro's office door is closed. I knock twice and push it open without waiting for a response. My brothers stopped expecting politeness from me years ago.
