One word, that's all it takes. Bruno breaks immediately, his shoulders sag, his eyes close. "It started years ago," he says quietly. "She was a kid."
I see my father's expression harden, and Giovanni straighten.
Bruno swallows. "Fourteen."
The word hangs in the air, nobody speaks or moves.
"At first I thought it would just go away. That she'd lose interest."
"But she didn't."
He shakes his head. "No, she didn't." A bitter laugh escapes him. "She was smarter than I was."
I don't think that's saying much.
"She started asking questions. About meetings, about business, about things she shouldn't have known."
"And you told her,” my father snaps.
"Not at first, but then she threatened me."
The room falls silent.
"She said she'd tell everyone, Cesare, her father, everybody." His eyes flick toward Cesare. "She said she'd tell them I'd been sleeping with her since she was fourteen."
My jaw tightens. "You kept sleeping with her?" I ask.
Bruno nods, slowly. He looks utterly defeated. "She owned me after that. Every time I thought it was over, she'd ask for something else. Money, information, favors, names, meeting locations, business details. Anything she wanted.”
"And you kept giving it to her?" My father asks in disgust.
"What choice did I have?"
The second he says that Giovanni takes a step forward. "The choice not to sell out everyone around you."
Bruno doesn't answer.
I hold his gaze. "The peanuts."
His face drains of color. "She contacted me a few weeks ago."
"When?"
"Two weeks ago. She planned it all out, said that it was to be when everyone was at dinner. She wanted everyone to witness it." He winces as I step back a step. "A few weeks before, she said Quinn was becoming a problem. She told me to make it look accidental."
I feel something cold settle inside my chest.
"She said everyone knew about the allergy, she said nobody would question it."
I laugh bitterly. "And you believed her."
Bruno's eyes fill with panic. "I didn't think?—"
"That's the fucking problem, Bruno." My voice is quiet. "You didn't think at all."
“Did you know she was pregnant?” I say.
He goes pale. "I swear to God, Lorenzo, I didn't."
