But who? And why?
I stood in the office, surrounded by my father's things, and felt the careful certainty I'd been clinging to start to crumble.
Quentin's name was on everyone's lips. The family had decided he was guilty. Filomena had "sources" that confirmed it. We were moving toward war with the Vanettis because we all believed he'd ordered the hit.
But the evidence in this room—the security override, the cryptic notes, the mysterious meeting—told a different story.
Someone in the family was lying.
Someone in the family had secrets.
And maybe—just maybe—someone in the family had killed my father.
My phone buzzed. A text from Carlo:Where are you?
I typed back quickly:Had to pick up something from my apartment. Then I’m headed to the airport.
Be careful, Sorella. Situation dangerous. Watch your back.
Will do.
I couldn't tell him I was here. Not yet. Not until I understood what I'd found. Not until I knew who to trust.
I took one last look around the office, committing every detail to memory. Then I slipped out, reset the alarm, and stepped back onto the street.
A chill wind cut through my jacket as I walked, but I barely felt it.
All I could feel was the weight of what I'd discovered pressing down on me.
The weight of doubt.
The weight of betrayal.
The weight of knowing that the truth—whatever it was—was going to destroy everything I thought I knew about my family.
Chapter 20
Quentin
Monday mornings were used for cleaning up the messes made over the weekend.
The Comet Club, and establishments like it, typically bring in seventy-five percent of the revenue between Friday and Sunday. The bulk of that comes on Friday and Saturday nights.
Not all my operations had this issue, but enough did that Monday mornings became essential for spotting weekend problems—the kind that only showed up when counting the cash.
Dealing in cash meant strict controls were required to ensure money wasn’t being siphoned off, lost, stolen, or otherwise unaccounted for on the books. Partners needed to be paid. Cops, lawyers, snitches, and my massive staff all counted on money being where it was supposed to be.
I’d spent time over the weekend trying to track down any clues about Serenity’s vision. She’d gotten nothing at the bakery and neither had Stone. A dead end. Dino hadn't gotten back to me with the forensic report yet, so I still didn't know if the zeppoles had actually been poisoned.
Julia knocked on my open door and stuck her head into the office. “Are you free?”
“Come in.” I observed her walk confidently towards me, no fear, shame, or guilt apparent. That kind of attitude wasn’t easy for traitors to pull off around me. I normally sniffed out the disloyal from a block away. Still, I had to be cautious until we solved this mystery. “Take a seat.”
“I found something in this file I wanted to talk to you about.” She held up a manila folder labeled withThe Marrow Lounge.
“Put a pin in that.” A smile broke across my face before I could stop it. Seeing her after the weekend hit me harder than it should have. I'd missed her—thought about her constantly. Wished I'd taken her to dinner, gone dancing, done all the normal things people did when they were falling for someone. But with a potential assassin out there, which could very well be her, normal wasn't an option. I pushed the longing aside. “We need to discuss what we've found so far.”
Julia nodded. “And what’s that?”
