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Tears well in her eyes, but she presses her lips to my palm, eyes shining with something that looks too much like love to name.

"Then make sure you come back to us, Luca. Don't you dare die tonight."

Us.

The word echoes through me like a benediction and a threat combined. No longer just Bianca and me. A family. Something I'd buried the possibility of when I watched them lower my mother into the ground.

"Lock the door," I repeat, pressing a fierce kiss to her mouth. "Trust no one until I return."

The weight of the recording in my pocket has changed. It's no longer just evidence of past sins, but protection for a future I will do anything to protect.

I kiss Bianca and turn my back.

The walk to Vito's wing feels like crossing a battlefield. Guards straighten as I pass, sensing something has shifted. They're right. Everything has changed.

I am no longer just Luca Ravelli, heir to a blood-soaked empire.

I am the father of the next generation. The protector of a legacy that now extends beyond vengeance and power.

The thought doesn't make me softer. It makes me even more fuckingdangerous.

My father's study door stands ajar when I arrive, yellow light spilling into the dimly lit hallway. I push it open without knocking, the hinges creaking a warning I ignore.

But when I enter…

The room is empty.

Vito's oxygen tank sits beside his favorite chair, but the man himself is absent. The desk—where he's conducted family business for decades—remains pristine, papers arranged in careful stacks, crystal decanter reflecting lamplight.

I cross to the desk, trailing my fingers across the smooth mahogany. How many deaths has this surface witnessed? How many lives bought and sold, ended with the stroke of a pen?

My mother's, for one.

But of course the fucker isn't here tonight.

I remove the phone from my pocket, placing it on the desk's center. Ready to play the recording that will end Vito's reign once and for all. Ready to confront the man who orchestrated Elena Ravelli's murder for the sake of control and power.

"Looking for Father?" Nico's voice startles me from the doorway. "He left with Matteo about an hour ago. Something about his medical treatment."

The convenient timing of his absence burns like acid. It's nearly the middle of the fucking night. I don't care how much power he has, a medical appointment at this time?

Yeah. I'm calling bullshit.

After fifteen years of waiting, the confrontation is delayed because my father sensed what was coming. He's always had an uncanny ability to disappear when confrontation looms.

"How convenient," I mutter, slamming my fist on the desk. "When is he expected back?"

"No telling." Nico steps into the room, hands sliding into his pockets with well rehearsed nonchalance. "I did hear them talking this morning. The doctors say his lungs are failing faster now. The end is coming."

I don't fucking care. Not anymore.

This is still too easy. Too convenient.

Before I can respond, Alessio appears behind Nico, his broad shoulders tighter than when I left him earlier this afternoon.

"Luca," he addresses me directly, bypassing Nico entirely. Nico notices and rolls his eyes at my clear superiority. "I thought you might be here. We have confirmation of the matter we discussed this afternoon. Your suspicions are correct. The warehouse leak was an inside job."

Nico's eyebrows lift, a flash of genuine surprise lighting up this dark night. "What?"