Chapter 9 - Julia’s BargainThe next twenty-four hours taught me something unexpected about Alessandro Marchesi.
He did not confuse protection with incompetence.
He argued.
Frequently.
He hated approximately seventy percent of my suggestions.
But once he accepted that I would be part of the exchange, he stopped treating me like an object that needed to be moved out of danger.
Instead, he explained everything he knew.
The legal authorities had already been investigating Vittorio Caruso’s network.
Not the romanticized version people whispered about in restaurants.
The real one.
Financial corruption.
Extortion.
Political influence.
Businesses pressured into cooperation.
Vittorio’s power had weakened over the years, but his reputation remained larger than the organization itself.
“The box matters because it connects old crimes to current companies,” Alessandro said.
We stood around the dining room table with Matteo, Teresa, two attorneys, and a retired investigator named Paolo who had worked with Daniel Reed decades earlier.
“So we give copies,” I said.
Matteo shook his head.
“Vittorio will inspect them.”
“The originals stay safe.”
“Yes.”
“And we record the exchange.”
Paolo nodded.
“If possible.”
I looked at Alessandro.
“He wants me alone.”
“You will appear alone.”
“Appear?”
“I will not be beside you.”
“That sounds like creative interpretation.”
“It is.”
Teresa muttered, “He gets that from his father.”
Alessandro’s face tightened.
The room fell awkwardly silent.
I touched his hand beneath the table.
Only briefly.
His fingers closed around mine.
Then released.
Marco had disappeared.
When Alessandro called him after Gabriel’s warning, his phone was off.
His apartment in Palermo was empty.
His New York residence had been cleared.
That looked terrible.
Yet something bothered me.
“Marco warned me,” I said.
Everyone looked toward me.
“When?”
“On the terrace.”
Alessandro’s expression darkened.
“He told you what?”
“That the real traitor was inside the family.”
Teresa frowned.
“He was manipulating you.”
“Maybe.”
I looked at Matteo.
“Gabriel said Marco visited Vittorio six months ago.”
“Yes.”
“But then he said Marco wasn’t the person feeding information now.”
Alessandro nodded slowly.
“So who is?”
No one answered.
I looked around the table.
Teresa.
Matteo.
Paolo.
Two lawyers.
Alessandro’s men.
All people who knew pieces of the plan.
Any of them could tell Vittorio.
Then a thought struck me.
“Why did Vittorio know I was at Bella Notte?”
Alessandro frowned.
“Marco was there.”
“Yes, but Gabriel specifically said someone saw us.”
“So?”
“Who knew I understood Sicilian before that night?”
“No one.”
“Who knew my mother’s surname?”
Again, no one.
I stood.
“Vittorio only became interested after someone connected Julia Bellini to Lucia Lombardo.”
Matteo’s face changed.
“Yes.”
“So whoever recognized the name had access to something.”
“The restaurant reservation?” Teresa asked.
“No.”
I thought back.
Table 7.
Four men.
Alessandro.
Marco.
Two others.
I had barely considered them since.
“Who were the other two men at dinner?”
Alessandro straightened.
“Dario and Nico.”
“Last names?”
“Dario Ferrante. Nico Russo.”
“What do they do?”
“Nico handles property development. Dario handles imports.”
Imports.
Caruso Atlantic Imports.
A cold sensation moved through me.
“Dario.”
Alessandro was already reaching for his phone.
“Why?”
“The man who broke into my apartment was collected by a company owned by Caruso Atlantic Imports.”
“Yes.”
“Who monitors companies entering your supply network?”
His face became still.
“Dario.”
Everyone stopped moving.
Alessandro called.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
He immediately contacted security.
Two minutes later, confirmation arrived.
Dario Ferrante had boarded a ferry for Naples that morning.
Marco had not betrayed Alessandro.
Dario had.
The realization brought no relief.
Only a new problem.
If Dario had known the plan, Vittorio might know everything.
“We change it,” I said.
Alessandro nodded.
“How?”
“We don’t bring the box.”
Matteo frowned.
“Then Vittorio may hurt Luca.”
“We bring something better.”
“What?”
I picked up my mother’s letter.
“Me.”
Alessandro’s expression became instantly furious.
“No.”
“You said you were done treating me like I can’t make decisions.”
“I said I would respect decisions that are not suicidal.”
“Vittorio believes I’m Gabriel’s daughter.”
“Yes.”
“He spent years believing I was his granddaughter.”
“Yes.”
“And now he knows that probably isn’t true.”
“Probably?”
I looked at Teresa.
“Does he know Daniel was my father?”
“No.”
“Then we use that.”
Alessandro understood.
“No.”
“He wants the box because of the evidence. But he also wants to know what Lucia told me.”
“No.”
“If he believes I know where the rest of the original evidence is, he will talk.”
“Julia.”
“We need him talking.”
Paolo slowly nodded.
“She is right.”
Alessandro turned on him.
“She is not bait.”
“I’m not bait.”
I stepped closer.
“I’m the person he wants.”
“That is the definition of bait.”
“No. Bait doesn’t get to choose.”
His eyes met mine.
The room disappeared again.
Not romantically this time.
Emotionally.
“You cannot ask me to stand outside while other people solve my mother’s life.”
“I am asking you not to risk yours.”
“My mother risked hers.”
“And she died knowing you were safe.”
The words hit.
Hard.
He regretted them instantly.
“Julia—”
“No.”
I walked outside.
He followed.
Of course he did.
The lemon trees moved gently in the wind.
“Julia.”
I turned.
“My mother spent my whole life making sure I was safe from a truth I didn’t even know existed.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what that gave me?”
He waited.
“Fear without a name.”
My voice shook.
“She checked every lock twice. Changed our phone number every few years. Panicked if I posted locations online. Refused to let me study abroad.”
I swallowed.
“I thought she was anxious.”
Alessandro said nothing.
“She was terrified.”
“Yes.”
“I inherited that terror without the information needed to understand it.”
My eyes burned.
“I’m done.”
He stepped closer.
“I don’t want you hurt.”
“I know.”
“I don’t think I could—”
He stopped.
“What?”
His jaw tightened.
“Say it.”
He looked at me.
There was no armor left.
“I don’t think I could watch something happen to you.”
My anger disappeared.
Not because the problem disappeared.
Because beneath all Alessandro’s control was something painfully simple.
He cared.
I reached for his hand.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you either.”
“That does not solve the problem.”
“No.”
I smiled faintly.
“You really are terrible at romantic moments.”
“So you’ve said.”
“Then trust me.”
His fingers tightened around mine.
“That is not the same as agreeing.”
“It’s a start.”
That evening, we prepared a new plan.
The port was crowded enough that Vittorio could not isolate the entire area.
Authorities would remain out of immediate sight.
Alessandro would stay farther away than either of us liked.
A copy of Caterina’s box would be delivered separately.
I would wear a small recording device.
No dramatic secret weapons.
No reckless confrontation.
The goal was simple.
Keep Vittorio talking.
Confirm Luca’s location.
Leave.
At 10:40 p.m., I entered an old warehouse near the port.
Alone.
At least it looked that way.
My heartbeat was so loud I could barely hear the sea.
Vittorio Caruso sat behind a wooden table.
Seventy-something.
Silver hair.
Perfect suit.
He looked like someone’s distinguished grandfather.
That was the most unsettling part.
Luca sat several feet behind him.
Alive.
His face was bruised but he was conscious.
When he saw me, confusion entered his eyes.
Vittorio smiled.
“Giulia.”
I stopped ten feet away.
“You knew my mother.”
“I knew many women.”
“You were afraid of mine.”
His smile disappeared.
Good.
“I have the box.”
“Where?”
“Safe.”
“You were told to bring it.”
“You were told I don’t accept charity either.”
His eyes narrowed.
The line had no meaning to him.
But somewhere far outside, Alessandro would hear it.
I needed the reminder.
I was still Julia.
Still the waitress who had looked four dangerous men in the eye and answered in their own language.
Vittorio leaned back.
“You have Lucia’s arrogance.”
“She called it determination.”
Something flickered.
Memory.
“You look like Daniel.”
That was confirmation.
My chest tightened.
“So you knew.”
“Eventually.”
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“Riccardo Marchesi did.”
“By mistake.”
Vittorio smiled coldly.
“Does mistake matter to the dead?”
“No.”
I thought of Alessandro.
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Where is the box?”
“Where is Gabriel?”
Vittorio’s expression changed.
“My son made his choices.”
“He protected me.”
“He humiliated me.”
“You thought I was your granddaughter.”
“For twelve years.”
“Did you ever look for me?”
“Yes.”
My skin chilled.
“Why?”
“Because blood belongs with blood.”
“You just said I wasn’t yours.”
His eyes hardened.
“But Luca is.”
The man behind him lifted his head.
Confusion.
“Who is Luca?” he asked.
Vittorio smiled.
“You.”
Luca stared.
I felt sick.
Vittorio continued.
“Your mother was Caterina Marchesi.”
Luca shook his head.
“No.”
“Your father is Gabriel Caruso.”
“No.”
Behind Vittorio, another door opened.
A man entered.
Dario Ferrante.
So we had been right.
He glanced at me.
Then at Vittorio.
“She came alone.”
Vittorio smiled.
“No.”
My blood went cold.
He tapped the table.
A phone lay there.
On its screen was a photograph.
Taken minutes earlier.
Alessandro outside.
Vittorio looked at me.
“The Marchesi prince never learned patience.”
I tried to keep my face still.
Then Dario’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked toward Vittorio.
“There’s a problem.”
“What problem?”
Dario’s face had gone pale.
“The police are already inside the perimeter.”
Vittorio stood.
“How?”
No one answered.
Then a familiar voice came from the warehouse entrance.
“Because you trusted the wrong traitor.”
Marco stepped into the light.
I stared.
Vittorio’s expression transformed.
“You.”
Marco smiled without humor.
“My father spent twenty years being blamed for your lies.”
Dario reached inside his jacket.
Everything happened at once.
Authorities moved from the side entrance.
Someone shouted.
Luca dropped behind the chair.
Marco lunged toward Dario.
Vittorio stepped backward.
And a single sharp sound cracked through the warehouse.
Alessandro appeared in the doorway.
His face changed.
May you like
I looked down.
A dark stain was spreading across the side of my coat.
