"And he'd kill you in a heartbeat if he knew who you really were," Filomena continued. "Quentin Vanetti murderedyour father, Julia. And you've compromised everything—your mission, your family, yourself—for a man who would put a bullet in your head without hesitation."
I choked—actually choked—on the words I needed to say. "He didn't kill Papa."
"You're wrong."
"I've seen the evidence, Aunt Filomena. The business deals. The timeline. He had no reason to kill Papa—every reason to keep him alive. Papa's death cost Quentin millions."
"You're missing the bigger picture."
"What picture?" Frustration bled into my voice. I wanted to accuse her of killing my father, but I couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe I could get her to confess? "What am I missing? Please. Is there something I need to know?"
She was quiet for a long moment, studying me.
"Did you tell him? Does he know who you are?"
My body betrayed me. The flinch. The catch in my breath.
Filomena's eyes widened. "You told him."
No. No, no, no.
"Yes." The word escaped before I could stop it. "I told him everything. At dinner. And then—"My voice broke. "Then Carlo texted and Silvio pulled me out before I could explain. Before I could—"
"Before you could what? Beg him to believe you?" Filomena's voice was harsh. "Julia, he probably thinks you're playing him. Or worse—he knows you're a threat and he's planning how to eliminate you."
"No, he's not like that—"
"You don't know what he's like!" She leaned forward, gripping my arm. "You've been with him for a month and you still don't know the real Quentin Vanetti. The man who killed your father in cold blood."
"He didn't—"
“He did." Her grip tightened. "And now that he knows who you are? Julia, you can't go back there. It's too dangerous."
My chest constricted. "I have to. Carlo gave me one week—"
"Forget what Carlo said. The situation has changed. You've been compromised." She released my arm. "I'm going to recommend he send Silvio instead."
"Recommend all you want." I met her eyes, forcing steel into my voice. "But Carlo is the don. He gives the orders. Not you."
Her eyes flashed. "Don't be stupid, Julia."
"I'm not being stupid. I'm following orders." I straightened my spine. "Carlo gave me seven days. Until he tells me otherwise, that's what I'm doing."
"Even if it gets you killed?"
"Even then." My voice didn't waver. "I'll do whatever Carlo commands. If he pulls me from the assignment, fine. If he sends Silvio, fine. But until he does—I'm seeing this through."
Filomena studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable.
"You really think you can go back there?" she asked quietly. "Walk through Quentin's door after confessing everything? After running away?"
"I don't know." The honesty hurt. "But I'm going to try."
"And if he kills you?"
"Then I die following Carlo's orders. Like a good soldier." I swallowed hard. "Isn't that what you taught me?"
Something flickered across her face—pain, maybe, or regret.
