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Riccardo grunts. “It’s called noise.”

I let the exchange wash over me like background music.

I set my wine down. “So,” I say, calmly. “How did our father really die?”

Everything stills.

Alfio lowers his fork, just slightly. Enzo shifts in his seat. Omero glances at me, then away. Riccardo's eyes narrow as he stops eating.

“We told you,” Alfio says carefully. “Heart attack.”

“You told me what the doctor wrote,” I say. “That’s not the same.”

Enzo sighs, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Look… it happened fast. He was in his office. Next minute, he was on the floor.”

“Bellandi was the last one to see him,” Riccardo says, tone clipped. “It was him, I know it but they won’t listen to me.”

Bellandi is our uncle, and his relationship with our family was less than ideal. None of us trusted him, not even our father but he was a necessary evil.

Alfio tenses beside me. “You know nothing. We don’t have proof.”

“We don’t need proof to smell a rat,” Riccardo replies.

I sit back, absorbing each word without blinking.

“Bring me father’s call logs. Emails. Internal meeting notes. I want everything he’s touched in the last six months.”

Alfio meets my gaze. “You really think he killed—”

“I want it,” I say. “Tomorrow.”

Enzo exhales. “God, you’re not even sleeping first?”

“There’s time for sleep when things stop shifting under our feet.”

Riccardo smirks faintly. “Good to have you back.”

“Don’t get cute,” I say dryly. “We don’t know anything yet.”

Omero tilts his head. “You sure you don’t want to ease back in?”

“You all look like hell, worry about yourselves,” I say after a moment, slicing into the lamb.

“Speak for yourself,” Enzo grins. “You look like a born-again hitman.”

The air settles again, softened by the clatter of cutlery and the scent of roasted garlic and wine.

But I am not done yet.

“What’s happening with the business?”

Alfio is the first to respond.

“Southbank’s stable for now,” he says, chewing slower. “But we’ve lost three crews in the west side over the last two months. Two to rival recruitment, one to burnout.”

“Who’s been sniffing around?”

“I have no idea.”