Chapter 5 - Return to SicilyDominic’s private Gulfstream landed outside Palermo shortly before dawn.
Harper had expected Sicily to look threatening.
Instead, the island appeared heartbreakingly beautiful.
Golden light spread across distant mountains. Olive groves covered rolling hills. Ancient stone villages emerged from morning mist as though they belonged to another century.
It was difficult to reconcile such beauty with the violence carried inside the Russo name.
Harper sat beside Dominic in the armored SUV while four additional vehicles surrounded them.
He had argued against bringing her until the moment they boarded the plane.
Harper had refused to remain behind.
Madison had been taken because of her.
And Harper understood something Dominic was still learning.
Protection could become another kind of prison when it removed a person’s ability to choose.
“I should have brought more men,” Dominic said.
Harper looked at the convoy.
“There are thirty-two.”
“Thirty-four.”
“Obviously thirty-four changes everything.”
Dominic did not smile.
He had barely slept.
Elias sat across from them reviewing satellite maps.
“Matteo selected Corleone territory intentionally,” he said.
Harper looked up.
“Why?”
“The Russo family began in a village approximately twenty kilometers from there. Vittorio’s father left for New York in the nineteen-sixties.”
Dominic watched the countryside through tinted glass.
“Matteo was always obsessed with origins.”
“With tradition?”
“With ownership.”
Harper studied him.
“How much time did you spend here growing up?”
“Every summer until I was sixteen.”
“With Matteo?”
“Yes.”
There was something in his tone Harper had not heard before.
Not merely anger.
Memory.
“What was he like when you were children?”
Dominic remained silent for so long she thought he would not answer.
“He could be charming.”
Harper waited.
“That sounds worse than saying he was cruel.”
“It was.”
Dominic looked down at his hands.
“Matteo knew how to become whatever someone wanted. My father saw confidence. Women saw elegance. Soldiers saw courage.”
“And you?”
“I saw him drown my dog.”
Harper became still.
Dominic’s voice remained flat.
“I was eleven. He told my father it had escaped.”
“Why did he do it?”
“Because the dog preferred me.”
Harper reached for Dominic’s hand.
He let her take it.
“I knew then what he was.”
“Did you tell Vittorio?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Matteo said if I did, something would happen to my mother.”
Harper understood.
A frightened eleven-year-old boy had learned that love created targets.
Dominic had never forgotten the lesson.
No wonder affection terrified him.
No wonder he believed distance could protect her.
“You are not eleven anymore,” Harper said quietly.
His eyes met hers.
“No.”
“And he does not get to decide what you lose.”
Dominic turned his hand and interlaced their fingers.
The convoy entered the gates of a massive hilltop estate shortly after seven.
Villa Russo had belonged to the family for generations.
It was less luxurious than Harper expected.
Ancient stone walls surrounded an internal courtyard filled with lemon trees.
A chapel stood at one edge of the property.
Armed guards occupied every entrance.
Inside, faded family portraits covered the walls.
Harper immediately found Vittorio.
Then Dominic.
Then Matteo.
In a painting from nearly twenty years earlier, both brothers stood beside their father.
Matteo was smiling.
Dominic was not.
“You hated portraits.”
Harper turned.
An elderly woman stood behind them.
She wore black from neck to ankle despite the morning heat.
Her silver hair was pulled tightly back.
Dominic’s expression changed.
“Zia Rosa.”
The woman walked directly toward him and struck him across the face.
Harper gasped.
Every guard reached for a weapon.
Dominic raised one hand.
No one moved.
Rosa Russo looked furious.
“You stay away ten years and return only when death follows you.”
Dominic touched his cheek.
“It is good to see you too.”
The old woman pulled him into an embrace.
Dominic closed his eyes.
Harper suddenly understood that Rosa was family in a way few living people were.
When she released him, Rosa looked at Harper.
Her gaze immediately dropped to Harper’s stomach.
“So.”
Harper waited.
Rosa stepped closer.
“This is the American girl who taught the stone boy to smile.”
Dominic exhaled.
“Zia.”
“What?”
Rosa examined Harper.
“You are thinner than I expected.”
“Thank you?”
“You must eat.”
“She eats.”
“Not enough.”
Dominic looked toward Elias as if requesting rescue.
Elias wisely disappeared.
Rosa took Harper’s hand.
“Come.”
“Where?”
“To eat.”
“My sister—”
“Will still require saving after breakfast.”
Harper almost objected.
Then she recognized something in Rosa’s eyes.
Knowledge.
“What do you know about Matteo?”
Rosa stopped.
The warmth disappeared from her face.
“More than Dominic.”
Dominic stiffened.
“Then perhaps breakfast can wait.”
Rosa studied him.
“No.”
Twenty minutes later, Harper sat before enough food to feed fifteen people.
Rosa poured coffee for Dominic.
Then she placed both hands on the table.
“Matteo came here four years ago.”
Dominic’s cup stopped halfway to his mouth.
“You saw him.”
“Yes.”
“And said nothing.”
“He threatened the village.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“I would have protected you.”
“You were fighting your father’s enemies in America. I would not bring another war to your door.”
Harper almost laughed bitterly.
The Russo family appeared genetically incapable of telling each other dangerous truths.
Rosa continued.
“Matteo wanted documents.”
“What documents?”
“Your grandfather’s succession records.”
Dominic frowned.
“There are no succession records.”
“There are.”
Rosa looked toward the ceiling.
“Old families wrote everything down. Marriages. Children. Properties. Agreements.”
“What did he find?”
“Nothing.”
“Because?”
“I burned them.”
Dominic stared.
Rosa shrugged.
“Paper creates foolish men.”
Harper liked her immediately.
“But Matteo believes something exists,” Harper said.
Rosa looked at her.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Proof that Vittorio was never supposed to become head of the Russo family.”
Silence.
Dominic leaned forward.
“Explain.”
Rosa’s gaze moved to an old portrait on the opposite wall.
“Your grandfather, Alessandro, had two sons.”
“Vittorio and Carlo.”
“Yes.”
“Carlo died before I was born.”
Rosa shook her head.
“Carlo disappeared.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
Harper felt the pattern repeating.
“Another missing Russo?”
Rosa gave a humorless smile.
“Men in this family are very inconvenient about dying properly.”
Carlo Russo had apparently been older than Vittorio.
According to family tradition, he should have inherited.
But he vanished during a conflict with another Sicilian clan.
Vittorio later took control.
Years afterward, rumors claimed Carlo had survived and fathered a son somewhere in southern Italy.
Matteo became obsessed with the possibility that the Russo succession had been illegitimate for two generations.
Harper frowned.
“That would weaken Matteo’s claim too.”
“Logic does not interest Matteo,” Rosa said. “Only stories that make him feel chosen.”
Dominic stood and walked toward the window.
“Then why bring us here?”
“To prove himself.”
Rosa nodded.
“And to make you participate.”
A guard entered.
“Boss.”
Dominic turned.
“We found the church from the video.”
Harper stood immediately.
“Madison?”
“No movement visible.”
“Where?”
“San Michele. Abandoned since an earthquake damaged part of the village fifteen years ago.”
Dominic reached for his jacket.
Rosa grabbed his wrist.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“Matteo wants you there.”
“My sister-in-law is there.”
“Perhaps.”
Harper understood.
“The video could have been recorded earlier.”
Rosa nodded approvingly.
Dominic’s phone vibrated.
A message.
One photograph.
Madison sat beside the altar inside the church.
She held today’s newspaper.
Under the image were coordinates and one sentence.
COME WITH YOUR WIFE. NO SOLDIERS.
Dominic swore.
Harper reached for her coat.
“No.”
She looked at him.
“The message says—”
“I can read.”
“Then you know I am going.”
“No.”
“Dominic.”
“No.”
Rosa watched them with visible interest.
Harper stepped directly in front of him.
“You cannot leave Madison there because you are afraid for me.”
“I can leave thirty armed men around this villa while I retrieve her.”
“And Matteo sees you arrive alone?”
“He expects a trap regardless.”
“He specifically wants both of us.”
“That is precisely why you are not going.”
Harper lowered her voice.
“What if he kills Madison the moment you arrive without me?”
Dominic froze.
She hated using the possibility.
But it was real.
His eyes closed.
“I cannot take you into that church.”
“You are not taking me.”
Harper placed his hand against her stomach.
“I am choosing to go.”
Dominic opened his eyes.
Fear lived inside them.
Harper continued.
“We do it intelligently. Elias follows at a distance. Tracking devices. Drones. Whatever absurd spy equipment you own.”
“It is not absurd.”
“Good. Use it.”
Rosa smiled faintly.
Dominic gave her an irritated look.
“She is right,” Rosa said.
“Do not encourage her.”
“I am not encouraging her. I am enjoying you discovering that women do not become furniture after marriage.”
Harper almost smiled.
An hour later, Dominic and Harper drove toward San Michele in a black Alfa Romeo.
No visible escort followed.
Elias’s teams remained several kilometers away.
Harper wore a tracking device beneath her bracelet and another inside her shoe.
Dominic carried two concealed weapons despite Matteo’s instructions.
The abandoned village appeared at the end of a narrow mountain road.
Broken stone houses stood beneath overgrown vines.
The church bell tower leaned slightly against a cloudless sky.
Dominic stopped the car.
“Last opportunity.”
“To do what?”
“Stay inside.”
Harper opened the door.
He muttered something in Italian.
“What was that?”
“A prayer.”
“That sounded like profanity.”
“In my family they are often the same.”
They approached the church.
The wooden doors were open.
Inside, dust floated through beams of sunlight.
Madison sat near the altar.
“Harper!”
Harper moved forward.
Dominic caught her arm.
“Wait.”
A man stepped from behind a stone column.
Matteo.
No screen.
No photograph.
Real.
He wore a pale gray suit without a tie.
He looked relaxed.
Almost elegant.
Two armed men appeared beside Madison.
Harper’s entire body tightened.
Matteo smiled.
“Little brother.”
Dominic’s voice was ice.
“Release her.”
“You travelled thousands of miles and cannot even say hello?”
“Release Madison.”
Matteo looked at Harper.
“So protective.”
His gaze moved to her stomach.
“And there he is.”
Dominic moved in front of her.
“Do not look at my child.”
Matteo laughed.
“You still assume it is a son.”
Harper felt instinctive disgust.
“Why do you care?”
Matteo looked genuinely surprised that she spoke.
“Because blood decides everything.”
“No.”
Harper met his eyes.
“People like you say that because character would disqualify you.”
Dominic glanced at her.
Matteo’s smile disappeared.
Interesting.
Harper had found something beneath the charm.
Vanity.
Matteo stepped closer.
“You have courage.”
“I have met more frightening men.”
“Have you?”
“Yes.”
She looked at Dominic.
“My husband before breakfast.”
For half a second, Dominic’s mouth almost moved.
Matteo did not appreciate the joke.
“Madison goes free,” Dominic said. “Whatever this is, it is between us.”
Matteo nodded.
“Agreed.”
Harper did not trust the ease of it.
Matteo gestured.
One guard cut the restraint around Madison’s wrists.
She stood unsteadily.
“Walk,” Matteo ordered.
Madison hurried toward Harper.
Harper pulled her into an embrace.
“You’re okay?”
“I think so.”
“Go outside.”
Madison looked frightened.
“Harper—”
“Go.”
Dominic shifted slightly.
The tracker signal would tell Elias that Madison was moving.
Once she cleared the church, Russo men could collect her.
Matteo watched without interfering.
That frightened Harper more.
He wanted something else.
When Madison disappeared through the doors, Matteo reached inside his jacket.
Dominic drew his gun instantly.
So did Matteo’s men.
“Slowly,” Matteo said.
He removed an envelope.
“No weapons.”
He placed the envelope on the altar.
“Open it.”
Dominic did not move.
Harper walked forward.
“Harper.”
“I can open paper.”
She reached the altar and removed several documents.
The first was a DNA report.
The second was an old hospital record.
The third was a letter bearing Vittorio Russo’s signature.
Harper read the first page.
Her stomach dropped.
She looked at Dominic.
“What?”
Harper could barely say it.
The DNA analysis compared preserved genetic material from Vittorio Russo with a sample identified as Dominic’s.
Probability of biological paternity:
0.02 percent.
Dominic stared at the paper.
Matteo smiled.
“You spent your entire life believing you were Vittorio Russo’s son.”
Dominic looked at him.
“You are lying.”
“Science is difficult to intimidate.”
Harper read the hospital record.
Dominic Russo.
Infant male.
Mother: Elena Moretti.
Father field blank.
Later amended.
Vittorio Russo.
Her mind raced.
Matteo stepped toward his brother.
“You are not a Russo.”
Dominic did not move.
Matteo’s smile widened.
“You never were.”
The words struck the church harder than gunfire.
And for the first time, Harper understood Matteo’s real plan.
May you like
He did not need to kill Dominic.
He intended to erase him.
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