My tongue runs along the back of my teeth as I weigh the familiar urge to omit the truth out of habit. It isn’t that I don’t trust Elena, at least not in this aspect when it comes to protecting Luca, but telling her everything would mean admitting that she and our son have now become targets to menwho would gladly trade their lives for the chance to use that as leverage against me.
Unnecessarily frightening her feels… cruel.
These aren’t burdens she should ever have to carry. Despite being Giovanni Vitale’s daughter, she didn’t choose this life. She never swore loyalty to my family’s syndicate or accepted this as the cost of marrying into it. All of this was never supposed to touch her so directly.
Bringing her into this world was never meant to be an option. Even when she was set to marry Matteo, my brother had been careful, protective in his own way. He kept the details vague, the dangers abstract. He respected her too much to stain her with the truth of how dangerous our business could be.
I’d done the same.
When Elena and I had crossed lines we never should have and her curiosity had turned relentless, I’d finally given in. Even then, I’d only given her fragments of what was happening at the time, enough to satisfy her questions but never enough to truly endanger her. If she wanted to know more, she was free to interrogate her father.
Then again, now that choice has already been stolen from her altogether. Tonight has made that painfully clear. Whether I like it or not, she is involved now and she and Luca are standing squarely in the line of fire. Keeping her in the dark won’t protect her. It will only leave her unprepared the next time something like this happens.
And therewillbe a next time. The Bellantis have never been the type to back down easily when met with resistance.
Tonight has changed everything.
I exhale slowly, my gaze drifting briefly to Luca before returning to her.
“There’s a… syndicate I’ve been dealing with recently,” I say carefully. I don’t want to lie, but I won’t be reckless either. “The Bellantis. They operate out of Palermo. So far, it’s been mostly posturing… disrupted shipments, missed deliveries, pressure tactics. Annoyances that I’ve been handling. They’ve never crossed a line like this before.”
Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t interrupt me. She watches me instead the way she always has. I’ve never been able to hide much from her for long. Not my anger or fear. Not even the moments when something inside me starts to crack and I’m left feeling more vulnerable than ever.
Whatever she sees now makes her expression sharpen with quiet understanding. “In my father’s ledger… he mentioned Don Carlo Toselli’s syndicate. They’re based in Palermo too. Right?”
“Yes.”
She studies me for another long moment, her grip on Luca tightening just slightly. “You think the mole is connected to both the Bellantis and the Tosellis. You think they’re working together?”
I hesitate. Then I nod.
“I think that whoever wants the Cosenza name to fall has ties to my father’s consigliere.” I drag a hand down my face, exhaustion finally bleeding through the iron control I’ve been holding onto all night. “If that ledger is accurate, which at this point I’mstarting to believe I have no reason to believe itisn’t, it would be foolish of me not to start there.”
I hate the thought even as I say it out loud.
My father’s inner circle has been a constant in my life for as long as I can remember. When I took over, they stepped back into advisory roles just as tradition demanded. Men who had helped raise, guide, and shape me into what I am now after having nothing to work from because I was never supposed to be head of our family to begin with. They’ve influenced decisions, yes, but never overtly. Never enough for me to accuse them of manipulation or treachery outright.
Especially not my father’s consigliere, Enzo. He has always been practically family.
Before Giovanni’s ledger surfaced, I’d assumed their restraint was due to respect, deference to new leadership. We were all at an understanding that the transition had been violent and sudden with none of us prepared to suddenly set in and out of the roles we’d already been given. I believed they were giving me space to find my footing, allowing me to come into my own despite the circumstances.
Now I don’t know what to think.
What if they weren’t stepping back out of respect at all? What if they were waiting, letting me exhaust myself under the weight of a fractured empire, seeing if the grief and rage turn me into something volatile and easier to control or remove entirely?
The thought coils in my gut.
What if the plan had never been to rule alongside me… but to outlast me? To watch until I either followed my father andbrother into an early grave or broke enough to hand the family over willingly, convinced I was unfit to lead?
And if that’s the case… what do I even do? For the first time since I took my father’s seat, I don’t have an immediate answer. Strategy has always come easily to me, violence even more so. But this… this is rot at the core and there is no clean way to cut it out without killing the body along with it.
What can I do, realistically?
I could gut the family, tear it apart from the inside out. Drag out every man who ever stood at my father’s shoulder and make an example of them regardless of whether I believe they are within the conspiracy or not.
It would feel decisive.
But it would be suicide.
