“No.”
“But she’s becoming one.”
I don’t respond. Because that depends on how one defines a problem.
“She chose to stay,” he adds.
“I’m aware,” I say.
“That changes things.”
“Yes.”
“How far will you let it go?”
“As far as necessary,” I say.
Salvatore watches me for a moment longer, then nods. Not in agreement. In understanding.
He leaves.
Marco waits until the door closes. “The council sees it.”
“Yes,” I say.
“They’ll push again.”
“Yes.”
“And her?”
“She continues.”
Marco hesitates, only slightly. “That creates risk.”
“Yes.”
“Is that acceptable?”
I meet his gaze. “It is.”
He nods once.
That’s enough.
Chapter 11
The Crack Widens
POV:Evie
The shower is the only room I trust. Not because it’s safe. “Safe” is a childish word people use when they want doors to feel moral. I trust it because I’ve checked properly, thoroughly, without rushing. Every angle, every seam, every place a camera might hide if someone cared enough to install one.
There’s nothing. No visible lens. No decorative vent positioned at an ambitious angle. No mirror with suspicious depth. No electrical fitting where electrical fittings don’t belong. No hollow echo behind the tile that suggests something hidden just beyond it.
If the Vitale family has invested in waterproof espionage, it’s better than anything I’ve seen before. The window is too high to reach, too small to matter, and sealed into the wall like a decision that won’t be undone. The glass is frosted into uselessness. The drain is ordinary. The vent hums badly enough to be real.
The lock is simple.
