After a beat, I shifted the focus away from myself.
“So what happened to Matteo? Did Vincenzo make him pay for kidnapping me?
A slow, dark satisfaction crept across Renzo’s face.
“Oh, he certainly dealt with Matteo,” Renzo said, leaning back, as if settling into a story.
“First thing he did... he made sure Matteo would never walk on those legs again. They were cut off—precisely, all the way to the waist.”
A shiver ran down my spine, but I couldn’t stop the grim satisfaction curling in my chest.
“He didn’t stop there,” Renzo went on. “While Matteo was still reeling, trying to survive after both of his legs were snatched, Vincenzo torched his two biggest warehouses and his three private ports — irreplaceable assets. He burned everything to ash.”
“No witnesses. No evidence. No trail. He vanished without a trace, refusing to give the Spanish any reason to escalate into open war.”
He added quietly,
“On the surface, it looks like pure bad luck. Internal failure. Or perhaps sabotage from a rival that no one can prove is even real.”
The room went quiet again.
“Vincenzo could’ve finished Matteo, and no one would have stopped him. The only reason he only took Matteo’s legs instead of ending his life outright,” Renzo added, his voice lowering, “is because of Violet.”
I looked at him.
“Because of her,” I said.
Renzo nodded once.
“Even if Violet never learns that Vincenzo killed her father... losing him alone would shatter her. Vincenzo knows how delicate Matteo and Violet’s bond was, and for her sake, he let Matteo live.”
He exhaled softly. “For all his ruthlessness... he would never hurt Violet.
My mood plummeted the moment her name slipped into the air.
Violet.
It didn’t matter how casually it was said, how neutral the context—her name always landed the same way.
Heavy. Inevitable.
Like something I could never outrun.
Violet.
The invisible axis every decision in Vincenzo’s life seemed to turn on.
Swallowing the pain, I asked, “Where’s Vincenzo been?” I tried to keep my voice steady, though it came out softer than intended. “I haven’t seen him around today.”
As I asked about him, the revelation that I carried his child settled in my chest, heavy and unrelenting.
I knew I would have to tell him when I saw him.
“He’s been buried in meetings,” he said finally. “Cleaning up the Matteo situation. Tightening things. Making sure nothing comes back to bite us.”
His tone was casual, but I caught the edge beneath it.
This wasn’t just cleanup.
