“And if she knows,” Carlo said slowly, “then she was involved.”
I nodded.
“She was part of the ambush.”
Carlo’s jaw tightened.
“Your own blood.”
“My father’s blood,” I corrected. “Not mine.”
I stood and walked to the window, looking out over the sprawling gardens.
Sofia and Elena were outside. Sofia sat on a stone bench while Elena chased butterflies through the flowers.
The sight of them together — safe, alive, smiling — did something strange to my chest.
“I want the house prepared,” I said. “Every entrance monitored. Every staff member accounted for. And I want evidence. Everything we have on Giulia. Financial records. Communications. Anything that ties her to the ambush.”
“I’ll have it ready by tonight,” Carlo said.
He left without another word.
I stayed by the window and watched Sofia lift her daughter into her arms, spinning her around until the child’s laughter echoed across the garden.
For fifteen years, she had lived in fear.
Tonight, that would end.
Giulia arrived precisely at eight, dressed in a sleek black dress and carrying a bottle of wine.
She smiled when I opened the door.
“Lorenzo,” she purred, leaning in to kiss both my cheeks. “It’s been too long.”
“Come in,” I said.
I led her through the foyer and into the study, where a fire crackled in the hearth and two glasses of wine waited on the table.
She settled into the chair across from me, crossing her legs elegantly.
“So,” she said, lifting her glass. “What’s this about?”
I didn’t touch my wine.
“I want to know why you told Renata to get rid of Sofia Marchetti.”
Her smile didn’t falter, but something flickered in her eyes.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie to me, Giulia.”
Her smile faded.
She set her glass down carefully.
“Lorenzo,” she said slowly. “I think you’re confused. I’ve never heard that name before.”
I reached into my jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
I slid it across the table.
She unfolded it.
Her face went pale.
It was a phone record. Calls between her number and Renata’s. Dozens of them over the past three weeks.
“Still don’t know what I’m talking about?” I asked.
Her hands trembled as she set the paper down.
“I was trying to protect you,” she said quickly. “That woman is dangerous. She’s connected to the people who killed your father. I thought—”
“You thought you could finish what you started fifteen years ago.”
Her breath caught.
“What?”
I leaned forward.
“You were part of the ambush, Giulia. You helped plan it. You thought you could take control of the family if my father was gone.”
“That’s insane—”
“Is it?”
I pulled out another sheet of paper.
This one showed financial transfers. Large sums of money moving from her accounts to a shell company in Eastern Europe.
The same company that had employed the men who ambushed my father.
Her face crumpled.
“Lorenzo, please—”
