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Ginerva appears at the doorway with a steaming cup on a small tray. "Your tea, Miss Melania."
"Thank you," I say, offering her a grateful smile as she sets it beside my laptop.
She pats my shoulder gently before leaving, a maternal gesture that nearly breaks my composure. I wrap my hands around the warm cup, drawing strength from its heat.
The burner phone sits silent and dark on the desk. I stare at it, willing it to ring, to vibrate, to show any sign of life.
"He'll call," Alessio says quietly, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. His touch anchors me, keeps me from spiraling into worry.
I nod, sipping my tea. The chamomile is soothing but nothing can fully calm the storm of anxiety inside me.
The burner phone remains silent as we wait, four people united by a common enemy, counting the minutes until Leo's call.
CHAPTER 32
The minutes crawl by with excruciating slowness. I check the time on my laptop—ten-thirty. Half an hour past when Leo said he'd call.
My stomach twists into knots. I twist my mother's ring faster, the metal warm against my skin from the constant friction. The chamomile tea sits half-finished beside me, no longer steaming.
"Perhaps he's reconsidered," Damiano says, breaking the heavy silence. His voice is measured but I catch the edge of irritation. "Your brother may have decided family loyalty outweighs?—"
"No," I interrupt, shaking my head firmly. "Leo wouldn't?—"
The burner phone vibrates against the desk, the screen lighting up with an incoming FaceTime call. My heart leaps into my throat as I snatch it up, fingers trembling as I accept the call.
Leo's face fills the screen, his features rigid but composed.
"Leo," I breathe out, unable to hide the emotion in my voice.
"Sorry for the delay," he says, his voice low and urgent. "Father left late. Some issue with Raymond's security team." His eyes dart around, checking his surroundings. "I'm in his office now."
I glance up at Alessio, who has moved closer to watch over my shoulder. Damiano and Enzo approach as well, forming a half-circle behind me.
"You're alone?" I ask Leo, scanning what I can see of the background—the familiar dark wood paneling of my father's private sanctuary.
Leo nods. "I've asked Santiago to keep everyone out. If Father returns he'll text me immediately." He smooths his palm over his perfectly-styled hair, a rare tell of anxiety from my usually composed brother. "We need to move quickly. The safe is behind the Caravaggio."
My breath catches. The Caravaggio—a priceless painting of Saint Jerome that my father acquired via means I never dared question.
I lean forward, studying the safe through the camera as Leo shifts his phone to give us a better view.
"It's a Mosler Double Guard Pro," Leo says. "Father upgraded last year. Said it was the most secure model on the market."
My pulse tumbles. I start searching for details of the model.
"Biometric plus digital code plus network monitoring," I read aloud, my mind already tearing through possibilities. "And it has WiFi capability."
Alessio's hand settles on my shoulder, a silent question. I glance up at him.
"Can you crack it?" he asks, his dark eyes vivid.
"Maybe," I say, my fingers already flying across the keyboard. "The manufacturer keeps emergency override codes in their database. If I can access their network..."
Leo's voice cuts through my concentration. "Mel, even if you hack in, we still need Father's fingerprint."
I shake my head, not looking up from my screen. "Not necessarily. These systems have backdoors—emergency access protocols in case the primary authentication fails."
My fingers leap across the keys, bypassing firewalls and security protocols with practiced ease. This is what I trained for in London, what I secretly studied while my father thought I was wasting time on frivolous computer games.