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It takes hours to arrange. Vittorio—Stefano’s right-hand man with eyes that have seen too much—sets up a secure line through three different relays. I’m propped up in bed, bandages freshly changed, when the phone connects.

“Isadora?” My mother’s voice comes through the line, tight with a mixture of fear and hope. “Is that really you?”

“It’s me,” I confirm, emotion threatening to close my throat. “I’m safe, Mom. I’m okay.”

“Where are you? Your father has men searching everywhere. The wedding—the alliance—everything is in chaos.”

“I can’t tell you where I am,” I say carefully, aware of Stefano watching me from across the room, tension radiating from every line of his body. “But I need to tell you the truth. About everything.”

So I do. I tell her about meeting Stefano at the club before knowing who he was. About discovering his true identity as Giancarlo Calviño’s discarded firstborn son. About Luca’s cruelty, his own plans to overthrow his father. About falling in love with a man seeking vengeance.

Throughout my confession, she remains silent. When I finally finish, the pause stretches so long that I fear we’ve been disconnected.

“Mom?”

“I knew,” she says finally, her voice steady. “Not about you and Alessio—Stefano. But about what Giancarlo did to his first wife. To his son.”

The revelation stuns me into momentary silence. “How?”

“Wives in our world see everything, Isadora. We’re invisible at the meetings where men make their monstrous decisions. I was there the night Giancarlo toasted to the ‘tragic accident’ that took his wife and child. I saw the truth in his eyes.” Her voice hardens. “I knew what kind of man we were aligning with when your father arranged your marriage to Luca.”

“And you said nothing?” The accusation slips out before I can stop it.

“Would it have changed anything?” she asks, the bitter truth in her words undeniable. “I did what wives in our world always do—I protected my family the only way I could. By staying silent.”

Something shifts in my understanding of my mother—this woman I’ve always seen as elegant but passive, now revealed as a survivor making calculated choices in a world that offered her none.

“I need your help now,” I tell her, locking eyes with Stefano across the room. “Luca is consolidating power. We need to know what’s happening.”

Another pause, this one briefer. “There’s a meeting—all three major families. De Angelis, what’s left of Calviño leadership, and the Ricci family. Luca is orchestrating a new alliance, with himself at the head.”

“When?”

“Two nights from today. The old hunting lodge upstate. Neutral territory.” Her voice drops lower. “Your father doesn’t trust him, but he’s going anyway. The alternative is war.”

“It already is war,” I say, the truth of it settling in my bones. “Thank you, Mom. For believing me.”

“Isadora,” she says before I can hang up, urgency coloring her tone. “Be careful who you trust. Even within your own family.”

The cryptic warning stays with me after we disconnect. Stefano is beside me instantly, his expression questioning.

“Next tomorrow night,” I tell him, grasping his hand. “All three families. If we’re going to act, that’s when.”

His eyes darken with understanding. “It’s a trap.”

“Not if we spring it first.” I pull him closer, ignoring the twinge on my side. “We have what none of them do—evidence. Against both Giancarlo and Luca.”

“You’re talking about exposing everything. To everyone.”

“I’m talking about ending this,” I correct him. “Once and for all.”

His thumb traces my lower lip, igniting sparks despite my weakened state. “You understand what that means? Going against both families. Your father—”

“I know exactly what it means,” I interrupt, holding his gaze. “I’m choosing us.”

Something breaks open in his expression—raw and vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen before. He leans in slowly, giving me time to pull away. But I meet him halfway, my lips finding his with certainty.

The kiss deepens, his hands cradling my face like something precious while my fingers tangle in his hair. Every nerve ending ignites, desire flooding my system despite my injuries. When his tongue traces the seam of my lips, I open eagerly, welcoming him inside.