Chapter 12 - Bruno was tied to a chair in the old wine cellar.
I disliked the scene immediately.
Not because Bruno did not frighten me.
He did.
But because rooms containing restrained men and armed guards had a way of making everyone believe cruelty was already justified.
Niko felt my hesitation.
“Untie his hands.”
Gennaro looked at him.
“Boss.”
“Do it.”
Bruno’s wrists were released.
He rubbed them and looked at me.
The arrogance I remembered from the corridor was gone.
Fear had taken its place.
“You wanted me.”
I stood opposite him.
“Yes.”
“Then speak.”
He looked at Niko.
“No.”
Niko’s expression did not change.
Bruno swallowed.
“I speak to her alone.”
“No,” Niko said.
I turned.
“Niko.”
“He threatened you.”
“Months ago.”
“That does not expire.”
Bruno laughed nervously.
“You see? That’s the problem.”
Niko moved toward him.
I placed a hand against Niko’s chest.
He stopped.
Not because I had physical strength capable of stopping him.
Because he allowed me to.
“Give me 5 minutes.”
His jaw tightened.
“Door stays open.”
“Fine.”
“Gennaro outside.”
“Fine.”
“If he moves toward you—”
“I know.”
Niko looked at Bruno.
The warning required no words.
Then he left.
Bruno waited until his footsteps faded.
“You changed him.”
“No.”
I pulled a chair forward.
“He changed himself. Speak.”
Bruno looked at his hands.
“Marco paid me.”
“For the supplements?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Before your wedding.”
The words landed exactly where expected and still hurt.
“What did he ask you to do?”
“Replace packets in the boss’s office. Sometimes add drops to whiskey.”
My stomach turned.
“You poisoned Niko.”
“I didn’t know exactly what it was.”
“That makes you feel better?”
“No.”
Good.
“At first he said it would only make the boss tired.”
“And later?”
“I knew it was something else.”
“When?”
“After the wedding.”
“Why continue?”
“Money.”
There are evil explanations so complicated that people spend years studying them.
Then there is money.
I hated its simplicity.
“Why did you grab the housekeeper?”
Bruno looked away.
The scene returned.
His fingers around her wrist.
The paper.
I understood.
“She touched something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“A delivery receipt.”
The air changed.
“You were afraid she had seen Marco’s supplier.”
“Yes.”
“And Niko expelled you.”
“Yes.”
“Why were you able to return?”
Bruno laughed bitterly.
“Because Don Vittorio rehired me.”
I became still.
“What?”
“He didn’t know what happened in the corridor. Marco told him the boss had dismissed me over a personal disagreement.”
Anger moved through me.
Vittorio again.
Every weakness in this family seemed to grow from secrets passing through partial truths.
“What does Marco want?”
“The succession.”
“We know.”
“No.”
Bruno finally looked directly at me.
“You don’t.”
Something in his face frightened me.
“What else?”
“He doesn’t want to become Don after Niko.”
“Then what?”
“He wants the Santoro family gone.”
Silence.
“Why?”
“His father.”
I knew almost nothing about Marco’s father.
“He died.”
“Killed.”
“By whom?”
Bruno’s mouth tightened.
“Don Vittorio.”
The cellar seemed to lose oxygen.
“Why?”
“I don’t know the whole story. Marco says his father discovered Vittorio was using Moretti pharmacies to move money during the old wars. Alessandra objected. Marco’s father threatened to expose everything.”
“And Vittorio killed him?”
“That’s what Marco believes.”
“When?”
“Before Marco’s mother stayed at the estate.”
The timeline shifted.
Marco’s father died.
Marco’s mother moved into the Santoro estate.
Alessandra’s poisoning began.
Revenge.
Not merely succession.
“What does Marco believe happened to his mother?”
Bruno became silent.
I leaned forward.
“What happened to her?”
“She isn’t in Taormina.”
My skin went cold.
“What?”
“She never was.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bruno.”
“I swear.”
Fear entered his voice.
“She disappeared 6 years ago. Marco continued sending letters in her name so Vittorio wouldn’t search.”
“Why hide that?”
“Because she wanted to confess.”
“To what?”
Bruno looked toward the open door.
Then at me.
“To poisoning Alessandra.”
I sat back.
The entire structure changed again.
Marco’s mother had done it.
Perhaps.
“Why would Marco hide her confession?”
“Because if Vittorio learned, he would kill her.”
“Where did Marco put her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is she alive?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said Marco wants the family gone.”
“He blames Vittorio for his father. Blames Alessandra because she stayed with Vittorio. Blames Niko because Niko inherited everything Marco believes was stolen.”
“And me?”
Bruno looked at me.
“You were supposed to leave.”
The words were quiet.
“What?”
“Marco believed if you failed to conceive and Vittorio humiliated you enough, you would leave Niko.”
My chest tightened.
“Why did that matter?”
“Because the boss became harder to control after marrying you.”
For 1 absurd second, I almost laughed.
“Explain.”
“Before you, Niko wanted the chair.”
I thought of the man at the altar.
Cold.
Controlled.
Absent.
“He lived for the family,” Bruno continued. “Everything was succession, territory, alliances. Marco understood him.”
“And after?”
Bruno looked at me.
“After, the boss started saying no.”
My throat tightened.
“No to what?”
“Deals he would have accepted. Violence he considered unnecessary. Your university. The widows. Staff rules. Things Don Vittorio called weakness.”
The woman in the corridor.
The garden.
The separate room.
The opened gate.
“You changed his priorities.”
“No,” I whispered.
Perhaps I had.
Not by fixing him.
By giving him something outside the crown.
Marco’s plan required Niko to remain exactly the man he had always been.
Then I arrived.
“How does Marco intend to destroy the family?”
Bruno looked afraid again.
“The anniversary.”
“What anniversary?”
“Alessandra’s death.”
My stomach turned.
It was 5 days away.
“What happens then?”
“Every family head attends Mass at Santa Caterina.”
I knew the tradition.
Niko had mentioned it once.
Vittorio gathered every major ally each year.
“Marco plans an attack.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who does?”
“Dante Bellomo.”
Of course.
The man who had touched my arm.
Provoked Niko.
Watched.
Waited.
Bellomo had never been a random rival.
He was Marco’s partner.
I stood.
Niko entered immediately.
He had heard enough from the doorway.
His face was terrifyingly calm.
“Dante.”
Bruno closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Niko walked toward him.
I stepped between them.
“Niko.”
“Move.”
“No.”
“He poisoned me.”
“Yes.”
“He helped destroy my mother.”
“Yes.”
“He—”
“And he just gave us the anniversary.”
Niko’s breathing was controlled with visible effort.
“If you kill him now, we lose information.”
“I don’t need him.”
“You do.”
His eyes were on Bruno over my shoulder.
I placed both hands against Niko’s face.
That finally made him look at me.
“Don’t become the easiest version of yourself.”
His expression broke by a fraction.
I knew exactly what I was asking.
Violence was not difficult for Niko.
Mercy was.
“Lock him somewhere secure,” I said. “Then we stop the attack.”
He stared at me.
Finally:
“Gennaro.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Take Bruno upstairs.”
Bruno nearly collapsed with relief.
When he was gone, Niko remained in the cellar.
I lowered my hands.
“You were right.”
“About what?”
“You changed me.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t make you choose.”
“No.”
He approached.
“You made me realize there were choices.”
The difference silenced me.
Footsteps came down the stairs.
Don Vittorio.
Tommaso behind him.
Niko repeated Bruno’s confession.
Vittorio aged visibly during the telling.
When Marco’s father was mentioned, he closed his eyes.
Niko saw it.
“You killed him.”
Not a question.
Vittorio sat.
“Yes.”
The word echoed.
“Why?”
“He was selling our routes to the Bellomos.”
“Marco believes you killed him to hide financial crimes.”
“He believed what his mother told him.”
“Did Alessandra know?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She begged me to exile him instead.”
Niko became still.
“You killed him anyway.”
“Yes.”
“What did my mother say?”
Vittorio’s voice broke.
“She said one day the blood would return to us.”
No one spoke.
There it was.
Not prophecy.
Consequence.
The Santoro family had spent decades calling consequences fate.
“What happened to your sister?” I asked.
Vittorio looked at me.
“I don’t know.”
“Bruno says she disappeared.”
“What?”
The shock appeared genuine.
“6 years ago.”
“No. I receive letters.”
“Marco sends them.”
For the 1st time, Don Vittorio looked afraid of his nephew.
Not angry.
Afraid.
Tommaso spoke.
“We need to find her.”
“After the anniversary,” Niko said.
“No,” I replied.
He looked at me.
“If she is alive, she is evidence. More importantly, she may know the attack plan.”
Tommaso nodded slowly.
“Marco may have kept her somewhere he controls.”
“Properties?” I asked.
“Several.”
“Medical facilities?”
Tommaso looked at me.
“Why medical?”
“If she wanted to confess and he needed her silent, he wouldn’t necessarily kill his mother.”
Stella’s earlier words returned in my head.
Psychopaths were rarely simple.
“He might declare her incompetent.”
Tommaso immediately opened his tablet.
We searched private clinics connected to Marco’s businesses.
Nothing.
Then Morelli Healthcare.
Marco’s wife’s family.
There were 6 facilities across Sicily.
One specialized in long-term neurological and psychiatric care.
Outside Taormina.
Vittorio stood.
“I’m going.”
Niko blocked him.
“No.”
“She is my sister.”
“And you are the target of an attack in 5 days.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
The words landed between father and son.
Vittorio looked at Niko.
Something unspoken passed through them.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
Perhaps recognition.
“I’ll go,” I said.
Every man in the room said no.
Even Tommaso.
I folded my arms.
“Excellent. Now that the choir has finished, listen.”
Niko looked exhausted already.
“You are not entering a facility connected to Marco.”
“Not as Eveina Santoro.”
“What does that mean?”
I smiled slightly.
“I’m still enrolled at university.”
“So?”
“So Stella’s cousin works for a nonprofit conducting patient-rights inspections.”
Niko stared.
“You cannot be serious.”
“I can enter legally with a university research group.”
“No.”
“You asked whether I wanted to speak with Bruno.”
“That was different.”
“It was 10 minutes ago.”
“Exactly. I’ve learned from the experience.”
Despite everything, Tommaso laughed.
Niko gave him a look capable of producing a funeral.
I stepped closer.
“If you send armed Santoro men, Marco knows immediately.”
Niko said nothing.
“If I enter with Stella and legitimate inspectors, we can confirm whether Marco’s mother is there.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Niko.”
“No.”
I inhaled.
Then stopped.
I did not argue.
That surprised him.
“All right.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“I said all right.”
“You’re agreeing?”
“Yes.”
He looked suspicious.
“You terrify me when you cooperate.”
“Good.”
I walked toward the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
“To bed.”
“Eveina.”
I turned.
“Yes?”
“You’re planning something.”
“Probably.”
His eyes closed.
“Christ.”
I smiled.
Then went upstairs.
At 7 the following morning, Niko entered the breakfast room holding a folder.
He placed it before me.
“What’s this?”
“Authorization.”
“For?”
“A patient-rights inspection at Morelli San Luca.”
I looked at him.
He sat opposite me.
“If you go, you go legally.”
My chest warmed.
“You changed your mind.”
“No.”
“Then?”
“I still believe it’s dangerous.”
He poured coffee.
“But you were going to find another way.”
“I would never.”
“Eveina.”
“Fine.”
He slid another sheet toward me.
“Gennaro will pose as a driver. 2 women from Tommaso’s office will join the inspection team. No visible weapons.”
I stared at him.
“Niko.”
“What?”
“This is trust.”
His expression softened.
“No.”
He reached across the table.
His hand stopped beside mine, allowing me to choose.
I turned my palm upward.
His fingers closed around it.
“This is me trying.”
I squeezed his hand.
“That’s enough for today.”
At the clinic, we found Marco’s mother.
She was registered beneath another surname.
Lucia Morelli.
Room 312.
She was 67.
Thin.
Gray-haired.
Completely lucid.
When I entered, she was sitting beside the window reading a newspaper.
She looked up.
Her eyes immediately went to my wedding ring.
I had put it on that morning.
Not for Niko.
Not entirely.
Because Marco’s mother needed to know who I was.
“You’re his wife.”
“Yes.”
“Nicolò’s?”
“Yes.”
She closed the newspaper.
Then she began crying.
No confusion.
No hesitation.
Just tears.
“I wondered how long it would take that family to find me.”
I sat.
“My name is Eveina Santoro.”
“I know.”
“Did you poison Alessandra?”
The directness shocked Gennaro behind me.
The woman looked toward the window.
“Yes.”
The room became silent.
“Why?”
“Because my husband died.”
Her voice trembled.
“Because Vittorio killed him. Because I wanted Vittorio’s line to end. Because I was young enough to believe grief gave me permission to become evil.”
I swallowed.
“Did Marco know?”
“Not at first.”
“When did you tell him?”
“After Alessandra died.”
“Did you kill Alessandra?”
Her face changed.
“No.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“Marco?”
“No.”
The certainty surprised me.
“How can you know?”
“Because Marco was with me when the ambush happened.”
I felt cold.
“Then who?”
She shook her head.
“Bellomo, perhaps. Vittorio had many enemies.”
“Marco is working with Dante Bellomo.”
Her eyes closed.
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because my son decided I failed.”
“What does that mean?”
“I wanted revenge on Vittorio.”
She looked directly at me.
“Marco wants extinction.”
I leaned closer.
“There is an attack planned at the anniversary Mass.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“He visited me 6 weeks ago.”
“What did he say?”
“That after the Mass there would be no Santoro family left to hate.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“How will he do it?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know details.”
“Think.”
“He said the Santoros had survived bullets because they always expected bullets.”
A pause.
“This time, they would die while kneeling.”
My skin became ice.
Church.
Mass.
Not guns.
Something else.
An explosion?
Poison?
Gas?
I stood.
Gennaro was already reaching for the telephone.
Then Lucia grabbed my wrist.
Her grip was surprisingly strong.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
Her eyes dropped to my stomach.
“Marco believes Nicolò can never have children.”
“We know.”
“No.”
She shook her head urgently.
“You don’t understand.”
“What?”
“The compound I used on Alessandra was not permanent.”
The room stopped.
“What are you saying?”
“She recovered after stopping it.”
My heart began pounding.
“The 2nd pregnancy after the contamination?”
Lucia nodded.
“She did not miscarry.”
I stared.
“What?”
“She carried the child long enough to hide it.”
Every thought disappeared.
“Where is the child?”
Lucia released me.
“I don’t know.”
“Boy or girl?”
“A girl.”
Niko had a sister.
A living Santoro heir no one knew existed.
Before I could ask more, an alarm began screaming through the clinic.
Red lights flashed above the door.
Gennaro looked into the corridor.
“Fire alarm.”
Lucia became terrified.
“No.”
“What?”
“He knows.”
“Who?”
“Marco.”
Smoke began entering beneath the door.
Not gray.
White.
Chemical.
Gennaro slammed the door shut.
“Everyone away from the vent!”
I grabbed Lucia.
The woman coughed.
Somewhere beyond the door, people began screaming.
My phone rang.
Niko.
I answered.
“Eveina?”
“We found her.”
Then an explosion shook the far end of the building.
Glass cracked.
Niko’s voice changed.
“Where are you?”
“Room 312.”
“Listen to me. I’m 4 minutes away.”
Smoke thickened.
Gennaro dragged a chair beneath the window.
“We don’t have 4 minutes.”
Niko heard him.
“Gennaro.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Get my wife out.”
I looked at Lucia.
“And his aunt.”
Silence.
Then Niko said:
“Both.”
The window opened toward a courtyard 3 floors below.
No fire escape.
Smoke filled the ceiling.
Gennaro looked down.
Then toward a maintenance balcony approximately 2 meters to the right.
“We jump across.”
Lucia shook her head.
“I can’t.”
I took her face between my hands.
“Yes, you can.”
She stared at me.
“You’re a Santoro,” I said.
The words surprised me.
Perhaps because I finally understood what they could mean when separated from blood and pride.
Not cruelty.
Not destiny.
Survival.
“We don’t die kneeling.”
Outside, sirens approached.
Somewhere below, Niko was coming for me.
This time I did not wonder whether he was coming to save me or destroy me.
I knew.
And as Gennaro climbed through the window and reached toward the opposite balcony, I realized something else.
I had returned to the Santoro estate because of danger.
I had put the ring back on because of strategy.
But neither was why I wanted to survive.
I wanted to survive because I was no longer deciding whether I loved Niko Santoro.
I did.
Completely.
Angrily.
With full knowledge of every lie and flaw I had discovered so far.
The only question left was whether our love could survive the truth still waiting for us.
Because somewhere in Sicily, Niko had a sister he had never known existed.
Someone had hidden her for nearly 20 years.
May you like
And if Marco discovered her before we did, the war over the Santoro bloodline would no longer be about the child I could not give Niko.
It would become a war over the daughter Alessandra had managed to save.
