I crouch down so we're eye level. So he can't look away.
"That brother is still in there somewhere. But this person you've become? This angry, bitter, cruel person who hurts everyone around him?" I shake my head. "I don't know him. And I don't think I want to."
Bruno stares at me. His hands have stopped gripping the armrests. They just hang there now, limp and useless.
Behind me, Pietro and Nico say nothing.
Then Bruno wheels himself backward. Once. Twice. He turns without a word and disappears down the hallway toward his room.
Dmitri
I sit in the study adjacent to his bedroom, laptop open, spreadsheets glowing in the dim light. Shipment schedules. Distribution routes. The mundane machinery of empire that doesn't stop turning just because the emperor is dying.
The numbers blur. I rub my eyes and reach for the vodka I poured an hour ago, still untouched. Can't afford to be drunk. Can't afford to be anything but ready.
Through the wall, I hear the soft beep of monitors. The shuffle of Nurse Katya's shoes. My father hasn't spoken since yesterday morning, when he grabbed my wrist with surprising strength and saidYelena.
I should go in there. Should sit beside him, hold his hand, say something meaningful. Tell him I'll make him proud.
But I don't move.
Because what if he looks at me with those fading eyes and sees exactly what he created?
My phone rings. Yuri's name flashes on the screen.
"Da."
"Boss." Yuri's voice carries that particular tension I've learned to recognize. Bad news incoming. "We have a situation."
I minimize the spreadsheet. "Talk."
"Vittoria Sartori. She's having dinner with James Rogers tonight."
The vodka glass shatters in my grip before I realize I've squeezed it. Crystal shards bite into my palm. Blood wells up, warm and red against my skin.
"What?"
"Megan just confirmed. Dinner at Bellini's. Eight o'clock."
I stare at the blood dripping onto my father's antique desk, watching it pool on the wood grain. "When did this happen? Why am I only learning this now?"
"That's the thing." Yuri pauses. "They didn't discuss it openly. No family meetings, no formal announcements. Megan says the past two days, things have been intense at the compound. Something happened between Vittoria and Bruno. Big argument. But Megan wasn't present, so she doesn't know the details."
I grab a handkerchief from the drawer, wrapping it around my bleeding palm. The pain barely registers. All I can see is Vittoria sitting across from thatboy, his smug smile, his wandering hands?—
"She agreed to this?"
"Apparently. Megan overheard her telling Amanda she has a 'plan.' Whatever that means."
A plan. Of course she does. My little sun, always thinking she can outmaneuver everyone.
But Rogers isn't just some lovesick fool. His family wants the Sartori connection. They'll push. They'll pressure. And if Vittoria thinks she can handle him alone?—
"What time?" I ask again, needing the specifics, needing something concrete to hold onto.
"Eight. Bellini's on Michigan Avenue."
I check my watch. Six-thirty. Ninety minutes.
