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"Yes. While my father was occupied with his affairs, including the woman who would later give birth to Nico, my mother was secretly gathering evidence." Bitterness colors my words. "Elena had tolerated Vito's cruelty for years. But discovering his connection to the Volkovs' darkest business broke something in her. She became determined to take us away."

I lay out surveillance photos, intercepted messages, and finally, the most damning evidence… Elena's journal, retrieved from within the mansion by Nico himself.

"She was planning to expose the Volkovs' operation and take Luca and me away," I continue, the words cutting my throat like broken glass. "Away from Vito's world. From the violence and manipulation that shaped us. She believed there were secrets about the Volkovs that could protect us, information she'd gathered over the years."

Francesca's hand covers mine where it rests on the journal. "And Vito found out."

"He discovered her plans three days before they were set to leave." I turn from the evidence, moving to the straight razor in its central display. "He arranged her assassination on the cathedral steps. Made it look like Volkov retribution for a business dispute."

I remove the razor from its case. "This was Vito's. The one he used for his morning shave every day of his adult life."

Francesca watches me as I continue.

My thumb tests the edge, still sharp after all these years.

"He said a true Ravelli should know how to wield both elegance and brutality, even with the simplest of devices. That I would need both of these things as hisenforcer."

"Why keep it separate from the others?" Francesca asks softly.

"Because it represents the duality he created in me." I replace the razor in its case, a twisted symbol of my inheritance. "He sculpted me into the monster who would execute his will without question, while giving Luca the throne I craved. The great irony is that in death, Vito still controls us. Still pits brother against brother while our mother's memory fades with each passing year."

I turn to face Francesca fully, allowing her to see what few have witnessed... the raw truth behind the darkest of souls.

"Years later, the same pattern repeated with Bianca's parents. Her father Alexei Petrov was Dmitri Volkov's nephew who defected to the Ravellis. When he fell for Bianca's mother andtried to escape that life, Vito had him killed too." I shake my head, the parallel striking me now. "My father murdered anyone who tried to break free of the life he built. Anyone who chose love over power."

Francesca's eyes meet mine, recognition dawning in their golden depths. "That's why the Volkovs are so interested in Bianca and her baby. It's not just about bloodlines—it's about revenge for Alexei."

"And control of the future generation," I add. "A child with both Ravelli and Volkov blood would give them the perfect puppet to rule once they've eliminated the competition."

"Do you know why I brought you here? To this room specifically?"

She shakes her head.

"Because I haven't entered it since the night you arrived." I gesture to the collection of violence and death surrounding us. "Haven't felt the need to remind myself of the monster Vito created. Theattack dogeveryone sees when they look at me."

Understanding softens her features when I spit the words thrown at me the other night at the opera.

"Including my father."

"Your father. The Volkovs. Luca. Even Nico in his way." I step closer, drawn to her like gravity. "Everyone sees me as that person… Everyone… exceptyou."

"What do you think I see?" she challenges, chin lifting in that defiant gesture I've come to crave.

"A monster still," I acknowledge. "But one you've chosen. One you understand."

Her lips curve into the faintest smile. "I see more than that."

I reach for her face, cradling it between hands that have dealt death and destruction without remorse. "Francesca, you make me want to be better than what Vito made me. Better than the second choice that I've always been."

The admission costs me everything, strips away armor I've maintained since childhood.

"You don't need to be better, Dante," she corrects, leaning into my touch. "Just more complete. The monsterandthe man, Dante. Both are real. Both are you."

Needing to take a step back, I move to the cabinet once more, retrieving something I've kept hidden since my return from Rome.

A velvet box, small enough to fit in my palm.

"We know that the Volkovs thought you would weaken me now," I say, turning to face her. "That possessing the Castellano princess would distract me from their betrayal. From Luca's vulnerability. But they never anticipated that you would become my greatest strength."