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"Luca won't come," I say, but I can hear the uncertainty in my own voice. "Not with everything that's happened."

The images of him standing behind Bianca surface in my mind.

"He'll come." Nico's certainty makes my chest ache. "It's Mom. He'll be there."

I study him carefully, searching for the manipulation behind his words. "Why does this matter to you, Nico? Elena wasn't even your mother. She wasn't your blood."

Pain flashes across his features, real and raw.

"Shewasmy mother," he spits angrily before correctly his tone. "When everyone else in that house looked at me and saw Vito's bastard, his mistake, she saw a child who needed love."

His voice catches. "She never distinguished between her blood sons and me. Never made me feel less than. She protected me from Vito's cruelty when she could."

Something shifts in my chest, an uncomfortable recognition of shared loss. Beneath the betrayal, beneath the rivalry, beneath the bloodshed, there remains this one irrefutable truth: we all loved Elena Ravelli.

"And Luca?" I ask. "He's agreed to this family reunion?"

"He'll be there regardless," Nico confirms. "Every year, without fail. I think... I think it would mean something to him, to have us all there."

I lean back, taking a long swallow of wine that suddenly tastes bitter in my mouth. The idea of standing beside Luca, unarmed, unguarded, for any reason... it goes against every instinct I've honed over sixteen years of hatred.

And yet...

"I'll consider it," I say finally. "Now, back to the matter of your betrayal."

Relief flickers across Nico's face at the temporary reprieve. "What do you want from me, Dante? Restitution? Territory? I can redirect my supply chains, merge operations."

"I want everything," I state coldly.

His eyes grow wide. "Dante, that's—"

"Every contact, every route, every account. Your entire operation, dismantled and absorbed into mine."

"That would leave me with nothing," he protests.

"Exactly." I lean forward and smile. "Perhaps you should have thought of that before you stole from me."

He studies me, weighing his limited options. "And if I comply? What then?"

I consider this, weighing justice against practicality. "Then maybe,maybe, you get to remain a Ravelli. Under my protection, my control. You'll serve me. No more independent operations. No more playing all sides."

"And Luca? The Volkovs?"

"I'll handle Luca," I promise, a cold smile curving my lips while remaining careful not to reveal too much. "As for the Volkovs... they made this personal when they took Antonio. When they killed his father. They'll be dealt with. Permanently."

Nico nods slowly, acceptance settling over him. "You've changed, Dante."

"Have I?"

"You're more... focused. Controlled." His gaze sharpens with assessment. "The Castellano woman suits you. Tempers your rage with strategy."

I shrug, not confirming or denying his observation. "Do we have an understanding? Your operation for your life?"

"We do." He reaches into his jacket, withdrawing a small thumb drive which he places on the table between us. "Everything is there. Routes, contacts, accounts. All of it."

I pocket the drive without examining it. "You'll stay in the west wing until I've verified this information. A comfortable prison until I decide your ultimate fate."

He accepts this with surprising dignity, rising from his chair. "And the cathedral? Tomorrow?"