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The crude language can't disguise the respect in his tone when speaking of his mother's choice. For someone who claims to honor his father's legacy more than his mothers, the time spent here at her villa in the Italian countryside, along with the drawings and stories I've heard from Maria… it's becoming abundantly clear.

Dante has unsolved trauma involving his mothers early death.

"And what about Luca? How did he feel about Nico?"

"Protective. Always protective." Dante's expression darkens. "The perfect firstborn caring for his baby brother. One more way Luca played the role my father wrote for him better than I did."

The picture suddenly becomes clearer. Three brothers bound by blood and betrayal, each assigned their role in Vito Ravelli's ruthless dynasty.

Luca the heir, Dante the enforcer, Nico the spare caught between them.

"This feels familiar," I say quietly.

Dante's eyes narrow. "What do you mean?"

"The secretive calls. The urgent meetings. The sudden decisions." I wrap my arms around myself, the chilled air from the storm raising goosebumps on my skin. "It reminds me of when my father was preparing to trade me. He was always on the phone, always whispering whenever I entered the room, always uncomfortable when I asked questions."

Understanding dawns in Dante's eyes. "You think I'm keeping something from you."

"Aren't you?" I challenge. "Three days barely emerging from your study. The attack at the ruins. Now a mysterious call from your estranged brother. What aren't you telling me, Dante?"

His hands grip my shoulders with barely leashed intensity.

"I am hidingnothing. Nothing, at least, that concerns you," he growls.

"Everything about you concerns me now," I snap back. "Or have you forgotten who I am? What I've become to you?"

His nostrils flare, jaw clenching tight. For a moment, I think he might push me away, retreat back behind his walls of silence and control. Just like Maria said he will. Just like he has ever since we were attacked and I was face to face with an attacked there for his blood, not mine.

Instead, he does something that steals my breath.

He tells me the truth.

"Someone has frozen my accounts," he admits, voice low and dangerous. "Millions, inaccessible. Accounts and details I've spent years establishing… cut in an instant."

My mind races through implications. "Luca?"

"Possibly. Or the Volkovs. I still don't know their true alliance." His fingers flex against my shoulders. "Without those funds though, certain operations become... complicated. Impossible, almost."

"Your move for the throne."

He nods once, the admission clearly painful for him. "I've lost significant leverage. Territory I thought secure is now vulnerable. And now Nico calls, offering information I can't ignore."

Understanding clicks into place. "You think he knows who's behind the financial attack."

"Or maybe… he's part of it." Dante's eyes burn with a darkness that makes my blood run cold. "Either way, I need to look him in the eyes when he speaks. I need to know if my own flesh and blood has betrayed me.Again."

The raw vulnerability in his voice catches me off-guard. Beneath the monster, beneath the criminal mastermind, there's still a boy deeply wounded by years of family betrayal.

I reach up, cupping his face between my palms. "Then we go to Rome. Together."

His expression softens, one hand moving to cover mine. "I hope you understand what you're agreeing to, Francesca. If Nico has turned against me—"

"Then we deal with it," I finish for him. "Like we dealt with those men at the ruins. Like we dealt with Luca in Paris. Like we'll deal with anything that threatens what we're building."

"Building?" he echoes, the word heavy on his lips.

I don't flinch from his gaze. "Yes, Dante.Building. Whether you intended it or not, this is no longer just about your revenge or my captivity. I'm not merely a symbol of power to you anymore. This is about us. Together."