Page 89

“Hmm.” I rise to my feet. “I came here, practically an orphan.”
They watch me, curious about the direction of my recount. I smile. “And you pretended to love me. You-”
“No one pretended to love you, you ungrateful child,” Nonna Isadora interrupts sharply, her eyes narrowing darkly. “We all loved you. We took you as our own because you were ours. You are our blood.”
“Yes, you loved me, but ask them if they did.”
“Now you’re just making stuff up,” Giuseppe mutters evasively.
“One evening when I was twelve years old I woke up from an afternoon nap and went in search of mybrothers.” I make an exaggerated quote in the air when I say the word brothers. “Mybrothersdidn’t hear me coming because they were… plotting my death.”
“What?” Zio Marco asks, a confused expression on his face.
Giuseppe, though, has turned white with guilt.
“I was outside the door and I heard them planning to poison my drink because they hoped that if they killed my father’s only child, as my father’s nephews, they would inherit his empire of sin.”
Nonna Isadora ages right before my eyes. I have never seen her look so small or so shriveled.
“The plan was to offer me a poisoned drink after we finished playing our nightly board game. That night it was scrabble. I couldn’t believe they would go through with it. But that night they did it. I held on to the glass while my dear blood brothers kept persuading me to drink it. Eventually, I took a gulp but kept it in my mouth. When no one was looking I spat it into a flower vase. It was the last time I ever accepted an open drink or trusted any of them again.”
Giuseppe clears his throat, but he doesn’t refute my words. God knows I’d have fucking punched him right there if he made me look like a liar. I’ve held on to this story for years, preparing to take it to my grave. But I won’t let them act like I’m the monster when they made me this way.
“Giuseppe?” Nonna Isadora glances at her son. “Tell me this isn’t true,” she pleads. I’ve never heard her sound so lost and defeated.
Zio Marco hasn’t said anything, but his shock is evident.
“Tell me it isn’t true!” Nonna yells suddenly.
“It’s true!” Giuseppe shouts back. “But we were just kids and we didn’t understand the consequences of what we were doing. We were jealous of him. You showed him more love than you did to us. You pretended it was because he was a poor motherless kid, but he was clearly your favorite. He could do no wrong.”
Zio Marco looks at him despairingly. “You’re a disappointment. A disappointment. All of you. Valentino is your brother. How could you?”
“He was cocky and arrogant,” Giuseppe fires back. “He still is, but we’ve all learned to live with it. When we were children, it was unbearable.”
“So you plotted to have him killed?” Zio Marco shook his head. “Oh Dio!”
“I was not cocky and unbearable,” I say to Giuseppe. “You just wanted what was mine. You still do.”
“No, I don’t,” he denies hotly.
I laugh with disbelief. “Don’t tell me you don’t want La Terra De Barbieri.”
“Everyone wants that,” he snaps back angrily.
“There you go, but no worries. You don’t deserve it, but you’ll get a piece of it.”
“Valentino, you must find it in your heart to forgive and forg-” Nonna Isadora starts.
I shake my head. The hurt I felt that day has never gone away and made me distrustful of people. “Don’t worry, Nonna. Nothing has changed. You called me an ungrateful child so I showed you why I am this way.”
“Valentino,” Zio Marco walks towards me. “Please. Let’s?—”
My phone beeps in my pocket and I take it out to see Vance’s name on the screen. I immediately turn away from Zio Marco and take the call.
“Vance.” My voice is sharp and urgent. I’d told him to let me know when Francesca leaves our bedroom, and I’m certain that’s why he’s calling.
“Your wife has come down to the kitchen.”