"You don't. But I'm a businessman, Cesare. I get what I want, you get your brother. Everyone walks away."
"And if the documents don't satisfy you?"
"Then Piero dies. And I'll come for the rest of your empire piece by piece. So I suggest you make sure the paperwork is in order."
After the call, the team moved into high gear.
Rocco created convincing fake documents—transfer agreements that looked real enough to pass initial inspection.
Giulio positioned backup teams around Pier 76—snipers, extraction vehicles, medical on standby.
Matteo, still in custody, was questioned about Viktor's security protocols, his typical protection details.
Everything needed to be perfect. One mistake and Piero died.
I watched from the sidelines, hand unconsciously drifting to my stomach. There was a life growing inside me. In the middle of all this violence and chaos and danger—new life.
The irony wasn't lost on me.
Cesare approached as the sun set. "You should rest. Tomorrow will be—"
"I know. Dangerous. Possibly fatal. Standard Tuesday."
A ghost of a smile. "Standard Tuesday."
I touched his face. "We're going to survive this. All three of us."
"I'm holding you to that."
That night, I couldn't sleep despite the exhaustion.
Too much adrenaline. Too much fear. Too much at stake.
I got up carefully, not wanting to wake Cesare, and moved to the living room windows. The city glittered below—millions of people living normal lives, unaware of the war being waged in the shadows.
I placed a hand on my stomach. "I promise," I whispered to the tiny life inside me. "I'll keep you safe. We both will."
Behind me, a voice: "Talking to the baby already?"
I turned. Cesare stood in the bedroom doorway, shirtless, watching me.
"Couldn't sleep," I admitted.
He crossed to me, wrapped his arms around me from behind, his hand covering mine on my stomach.
We stood like that, looking out at the city, holding our secret between us.
Then Cesare's phone buzzed on the coffee table. A text from an unknown number.
He picked it up, read it, and went completely rigid.
"What?" I asked.
He showed me the screen. A photo. Piero, tied to a chair, beaten worse than the last time we’d heard him, barely conscious.
And the message beneath:9 AM. Don't be late. And Cesare—come alone. If I see anyone else, your brother dies before you reach the pier.
Alone. Viktor wanted Cesare to come alone.
