Bruno hesitates before slowly lowering his gun. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Conti.”
She waves him off, then levels us all with a piercing look, her voice thick with frustration. “Hasn’t there been enough bloodshed?”
Dom exhales sharply and shoves the knife back into the block. I don’t release Elio—not yet. His lip is split, blood trickling down his chin, but his eyes still burn with pure hatred.
I clench my fist tighter around his shirt. “You mention my mother again, and I’ll end you. Regardless of what my father’s wishes were.”
Elio scoffs. “What’s your father got to do with this?”
The room falls deathly silent.
Rose’s mother pulls her mask away, her gaze landing onElio. Anguish flashes across her face. “Because, Elio… he was your father too.”
The words slam into me like a bullet. I don’t move. Can’t move. The whole room tilts, the weight of what she just said pressing down on me like a collapsing building. My ears ring, my heartbeat a brutal, unsteady drum against my ribs.
“No. No fucking way.” Elio stares at me with the same shock, the same disbelief, the same stubborn refusal to accept what we’ve just been told flickering in his eyes. My father? His father? The same man?
My head screams no, but I see it for the first time. The resemblance. He has the same features as my son. I thought it was through Rose, but it’s me.
I stumble backwards, trying to form words, but my throat is tight, locked down by the thick and suffocating weight of her words.
Elio lets out a sharp, humourless laugh, but it’s jagged and broken. “You’re lying.” His voice is raw.
Rose’s mother shakes her head, her frail hands gripping the blanket over her lap. “No, Elio. I should have told you years ago, but I?—”
“Shut up.” His voice cracks on the words, but he covers it up with anger, turning it into a weapon. He rises from the table and jabs a finger at her, his entire body trembling with fury. “Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t you dare try to rewrite history. You’re just saying this to protect them.” He whips towards me and Dom, his chest heaving, his jaw clenched so tight I think his teeth might crack. “Ain’t no fucking way I’m a Bianchi.”
I swallow down the bile rising in my throat, threatening to choke me. One word on the tip of my tongue, but I’m too afraid of the answer. If he’s my blood, does that mean…
“Rose?” I blurt out. Acid coats my mouth as I wretch, my hand flying to my mouth, holding my breath. Not Rose. Is that why the tests said I was a good match for her? My eyesflick to our son. Our perfect son that we made out of love. She can’t be my…
Lucia shakes her head. “Rose belongs to my husband. There’s no doubt.”
I let out a breath, leaning over the sink, needing a drink of water. Some tension leaves my body, making the weight on my shoulders a little lighter. Turning around to face them again, I check on my son, his frame glued to his nonna’s side. It’s like history repeating itself. So many lies have been told over the years. Is this how he felt when he found out I was his father?
“She’s lying,” Elio says again. “Tell them.”
Lucia drops her head with tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. Deep-set wrinkles across her brow tell a story of struggle.
I wish she were lying.
I wish this were just some manipulation tactic, some power play, some sick, twisted game.
But I know it’s not.
I see it in her eyes. In Dom’s wide-eyed stare. In the way Elio is standing there, unravelling in real time.
My stomach twists, rage battling internally. I take a breath, but it’s ragged. “You’re my brother.” The words taste wrong on my tongue. Like poison and betrayal.
Elio’s throat bobs, his expression fragile for a brief moment. “Fuck you.”
He shoves past me, storming out of the kitchen as if he can outrun this truth.
A heavy silence lingers in his wake.
Rose’s mother exhales, sagging into her chair as if the weight of her own secret has drained the last bit of strength from her. “I never meant to hurt him.”
Dom folds his arms, his face as conflicted as mine. “Well, this explains a lot.”
