"Chicago treating you well?" Alessandro’s question is innocent enough, but we both know what he's really asking. How powerful have you become? Are you here to challenge me?
"I built something good there," I say simply.
"Something good," Alessandro repeats, his head tilting, his eyes narrowing like he’s trying to read my mind. "After abandoning your responsibilities here."
What a fucker. My exile wasn't voluntary. He knows that.
But his version paints me as the deserter. The disloyal son. Fine. I don’t give a shit.
Uncle Matty clears his throat. "What matters is that Luca's home now. When the family's under attack?—"
"Is it, though?" Alessandro interrupts. "Or did Luca come running back because he smelled opportunity?"
I flex my hands and do my best to play it cool. He can’t rattle me. "I received a letter."
This catches his attention. Something flickers across his face. I can’t decide if it’s surprise or concern. Maybe both.
"From whom?" he demands.
"Anonymous. Telling me to come home."
Murmurs ripple through the room. Alessandro's gaze sweeps the faces around us, searching for a confession no one offers.
"Interesting," he says. "Someone wanted you here badly enough to go behind my back."
The implication settles heavily in the air. Someone in this room doesn't trust Alessandro's leadership.
Someone wanted the second son to return.
I have no intention of taking my brother’s place, but I can’t deny that I enjoy watching him squirm about it.
I meet my brother's stare. "I'm not here to take what's yours."
"Everything here is mine now," he responds, and there's no mistaking the warning. "Including the consequences of what father built. The enemies he made."
I understand the game now. I've been summoned as either an ally or a sacrifice. Alessandro hasn't decided which yet.
And in the calculating depths of his eyes, I see he's wondering if I've already chosen my own role in whatever comes next.
“Well, as wonderful as this welcome home has been, I’m going to my room to clean up.” I don’t bother waiting for my brother to dismiss me. He’s not the boss of me.
I’m my own boss.
Have been one for seven years.
Seven years longer than my brother, and he knows it. So does someone else who seems to want me to usurp my brother. This trip home has gotten a lot more interesting.
I find my room looking the same as it did when I left, which is surprising.
I figured my family would have washed away all traces of me when they forced me out.
I wash up and change and then grab a drink before heading out into the garden for some fresh air.
“Vic is right. You have Everest-size balls to come home.” Valentina joins me in the spot where we used to smoke cigarettes when she was too young and I was supposed to know better.
She's not a child anymore, though.
The little sister I left behind has become a woman with our father's shrewd eyes and our mother's grace.
