“So that’s it? The connection I never knew was there.” I take the phone from Colin, examining the screen myself as if staring at it longer might somehow change what I’m seeing. The betrayal is laid bare in texts and calls. All pointing to how Andrea found out about our wedding date.
Colin nods, his expression grim. “Looks like it.”
I scroll through the messages again, my blood turning to ice despite the tropical heat. The words are mundane, almost casual. But their implications tear through me like bullets.
“Fuck.” The word escapes through gritted teeth.
Colin shifts his weight, eyes scanning the horizon as if expecting threats to materialize from the endless blue. “What do you want to do about it, boss?”
I lock Andrea’s phone and slide it into my pocket. Evidence. Proof of how my life nearly shattered because… because fucking what?
“I remember breaking into Alina’s phone back in February,” I say, my voice quiet but sharp as a blade. “Her password was the date Sophia died. So fucking predictable. I thought then how people’s sentimentality makes them vulnerable.”
The memory of that night feels like it belongs to another lifetime. When she was just a debt to collect, not the center of my universe. Before I knew what it meant to feel that sinking horror of almost losing her.
“And now?” Colin prompts when I fall silent.
“Now I see her sentimentality struck again.” I stare out at the endless expanse of ocean stretching to the horizon. “But so did mine.”
The realization sits heavy in my chest. I brought Alina to the island—my mom’s sanctuary. The place Andrea knew meant something to me. My own sentimentality created the perfect target.
“I put her at risk,” I admit, the words tasting bitter. “By bringing her there. By thinking we could have something untouched by all this shit.”
Colin knows better than to offer empty reassurances. Instead, he waits, solid and steady, as I pull out my phone and dial Matteo.
He answers on the first ring. “About fucking time,” he gripes. The entire family already knows everything thanks to the daily updates they demand. “How’s our little baker?”
“Recovering.” I keep my voice neutral, aware of Alina napping below deck. “Listen, I need you to handle something.”
I explain what needs to be done. Luckily, Matteo doesn’t need everything spelled out. He understands the language of retribution as well as I do.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks when I finish. I can almost see him running a hand through his hair, his mind already mapping out the most efficient path to destruction. “We’re talking about—”
“I’m sure,” I cut in. “The evidence is clear.”
“Raven and Piper will want in on this,” Matteo says after a pause. “You know how they get when one of their own is threatened.”
Actually, I don’t know. But I have no trouble imagining it.
The thought of my cousins’ wives—especially heavily pregnant Raven—involving themselves in this mess makes me grimace. But I also know better than to underestimate either woman.
“You’d allow Raven to be involved?” I ask.
Matteo scoffs. “If it were up to me, fuck no,” he growls. “But I know she won’t take lightly to being excluded, which will upset her, and then I’ll have to spend weeks paying for it. Seems easier to go together.”
“Fine,” I concede. “But they follow your lead. This stays contained.”
“I’ll get them, myself, and Enzo on it right away. Remus is in Rome taking care of Andrea’s estate and all that shit.”
I forgot about Remus leaving after assuring me he’d make sure everything was handled. As a Russo, Andrea was supposed to be buried in the family crypt. What a shame there was no body found to do anything with.
“Good.” The yacht dips slightly as a wave passes beneath us.
“And you?” Matteo asks, his tone knowing. “What will you be doing while we’re taking care of the dirty work?”
I watch a seagull circle overhead, diving occasionally toward the water. A predator patient for the perfect moment to strike. “I’ll handle this personally when we get back. But first, I need to talk to Alina.”
“She doesn’t know yet?”
