"I've been looking at venues. Haven't booked anything yet."
"Good. Book something nice—traditional Italian, private room. Then ask Filomena to handle the payment. Make it seem like an honor, like you're trusting her with something important for my wedding."
"How do I explain which account to use?"
"Tell her to use 'the family account.' The special one Papa set up for big family occasions. If she has the authorization code, she'll know exactly which one you mean. If she doesn't..." I swallowed hard. "She'll ask for clarification."
"And if she uses it, you'll know."
"Forrest's setting up monitoring now. The second someone processes a transaction with that code, I get an alert with all the details—who, when, how much."
Carlo was quiet for a long moment. I could almost hear him thinking, weighing variables.
"You really think it's her," he said finally. Not a question.
"I hope I'm wrong." My voice broke. "But everything points to her. The security override from inside the house. The way she pushed to blame Quentin without ever showing her evidence. That meeting Papa had the night he died with someone whose name started with F."
"If it's her..." His voice went hard. "If our aunt killed our father..."
"Then she'll face family justice," I said. "But we need proof. Real proof. Not suspicions. And I’d really like to know why. Why would she do this? It makes no sense."
"I agree. Papa never mentioned a word of trouble to me. If he would have, maybe I could have done something to save him." I heard him exhale slowly. "Okay. I'll book the venue this week. Make it natural—shop around, compare menus, like a Don planning his sister's wedding would. Then I'll call Filomena and ask for her approval. Tell her that if it meets her high standards to book it and handle the payment. Tell her it would mean a lot to you."
"That's perfect. Asking her like that doesn’t seem suspicious."
"Jules?" His voice softened. "You sure you want to know? Once we have proof, there's no going back."
I closed my eyes, thought of Papa hiding that number in my favorite book. Leaving me breadcrumbs because he knew—he'd known someone close to him was stealing, maybe worse.
"I need to know," I said. "For Papa. For Quentin. For all of us."
"Then we'll know soon enough." He paused. "I'll let you know the minute she agrees. Try to enjoy the wedding planning between now and then."
"Yeah," I whispered. "I'll try."
"And Jules? Whatever we find out—I’ll handle it. I’m the don. It’s my burden to carry, not yours."
Tears pricked my eyes. "Thank you."
I ended the call and stood there for a moment, staring at nothing.
Walking back into the conference room, everyone glanced at me.
"It's set," I said quietly. "Carlo's booking the venue this week, then he'll ask Filomena to handle the payment. We should know within two weeks."
"I've got the monitoring live," Forrest said. "Your phone's set up. Any transaction on that account using the authorization code, you'll get an immediate alert."
"Good." I sank into a chair, suddenly exhausted. "Now we wait."
Quentin pulled another chair close, took my hand. "You okay?"
"No." I looked at our joined hands, the engagement ring catching the light. "But I will be. Once we know the truth."
"What if it's not Filomena?" Serenity asked gently. "What if it's Dominic or Silvio?"
"Then at least we'll know." But even as I said it, I knew. In my gut, in my bones, I knew who it would be.
The woman who'd taught me to cook. Who'd taught me to stand up for myself in a room full of men. Who'd held me at Papa's funeral and promised everything would be okay.
