“You sure? You haven’t slept.”
“I said I want to be there.”
He nods. Doesn’t push. Smart man.
Movement at the wall. Renzo. A fraction of a shift, but I’ve known him all his life. When Renzo moves, it means something.
“What?”
He nods toward the door.
Footsteps. Zio Pietro appears, expression wiped clean.
“There’s a situation at the gate.”
“Handle it.”
“I tried.” A pause. “She’s insisting on seeing you. No one else.”
She.
My blood cools. Elena. Coming back. Coming to explain, apologize, beg. Two days too late, and I don’t have the patience for whatever performance she’s rehearsed.
“Send her away.”
“She won’t leave.” His eyebrows rise. “And it’s not Elena.”
The room shifts.
Romano’s call trails off. Renzo straightens from the wall. His hand moves an inch toward his hip. Reflex. Good.
“Not Elena,” I repeat.
“Cassia. Umberto’s other daughter.”
The other daughter.
I search for a face and find edges. Dark hair bent over ledgers during meetings. A voice I’ve never heard above a murmur. She was part of the furniture. Background. Forgettable.
I never looked twice.
“What does she want?”
“She won’t say.” Zio’s mouth curves. He’s enjoying this. “But she drove here alone this morning and told the guards she’s not leaving until you see her.”
Alone. At dawn. Refusing to leave.
Umberto didn’t send her. If he had, he’d be standing next to her with his hat in his hands, begging. This is something else.
My mind runs the angles. The Benedettis could be using her. Send the other daughter as a distraction while they move on ourshipping routes. Or Umberto’s making a play of his own, offering a replacement bride to save his family’s position.
Or this girl walked here on her own, and that’s either the bravest or the most reckless thing anyone’s done this week.
I should send her away. Another Neri. Another complication.
The smart play is to let Zio escort her back to whatever quiet life she crawled here from and deal with the real threats stacking up on my desk.
“Let her in.”
