No one breathes.
Alessandro lets the silence punish Giulio for three full seconds. Then, “Dante doesn’t return to operations.”
“The vote—” Giulio starts.
“I said operations.”
“That isn’t what was agreed.”
“I’m modifying the terms under my authority as head of this family.”
“You cannot ignore a majority council position.”
“No,” Alessandro says. “But I can decide how it is implemented inside my house.”
Salvatore says, “A residential return. No operational authority. No unsupervised movement. No access to accounts. No contact outside approved channels.”
Giulio exhales sharply. “You would bring him back as a prisoner?”
Alessandro says, “I would bring him back alive.”
That stops everyone. Including me. There are sentences that reveal more when voices are not raised.
I look at Alessandro through the gap. He still hasn’t moved, but the room has arranged itself around a fact none of them wish to touch.
Dante is dangerous enough that his father has to choose between his exile and containment.
And the council, in its wisdom, has chosen proximity. To me. To my children. To the ruin he made of my life.
I need to get away from here to process all of that. Luca and Marco say nothing as I walk away. I reach the south suite and close the door. Then lock it. The sound is small. Symbolic. Useless.
Eight exits. Main door. Dressing room. Bathroom. Service access. Terrace. Garden steps. Inner corridor. Window.
None of them solves Dante.
I stand in the center of the room and breathe carefully. In. Out. Again.
The twins shift. One of them low; the other higher, beneath my ribs. They don’t know the name Dante. They don’t know Seane Brennan is dead. They don’t know their grandfather arranged my marriage to a man who would destroy him, or that their father protected that man until the debt grew teeth, or that they are now the softest, most permanent things inside a war everyone will pretend is household management.
Lucky girls.
I press both hands against my stomach. The green dress stretches over them.
There’s a knock at the door before I can even really catch my breath. I don’t answer, but it doesn’t matter. It never has when it comes to Alessandro.
“Evie.”
“Go away,” I say.
“No.”
Naturally. “I’m busy.”
“With what?”
“Considering arson.”
A pause. “Open the door.”
