Page 41

I hear footsteps behind me. It’s Ava, watching from the bedroom doorway. I don't turn, don't acknowledge her presence.
She needs to see this side of me. She needs to understand exactly who she's dealing with.
"Please," the third one whimpers. "Our parents will pay?—"
"Your parents." I laugh softly, deadly. "Yes, let's discuss them. Your father's on the city council, isn't he?" I look at the middle one. "And yours runs that investment firm downtown." My smile shows teeth. "How do you think they'll react to learning their sons are dealing to children?"
Silence, broken only by quiet sobs.
"Here's what's going to happen." I pace before them, each step measured. "You're going to donate every cent from your dealings to St. Mary's scholarship program. You're going to disappear from the Chicago drug scene. And you're going to pray I never hear your names again."
"But that's thousands—" the middle one protests.
I grab his chin, fingers digging in. "Or I can tell your fathers exactly what their heirs have been up to. After I break every bone in your privileged bodies."
The threat hangs in the air. Then, almost in unison, they nod.
"Tomasso." I step back, straightening my jacket. "Escort these gentlemen to their respective banks. Ensure the transfers are completed properly."
"And if they refuse?"
I smile, all teeth and promise. "Then we do this the painful way."
They're dragged out sobbing, leaving only the lingering scent of fear and expensive cologne. I turn to find Ava watching me, her expression unreadable.
"Still want to make that visit to my sister?" I ask, my voice deliberately lighter.
She studies me for a long moment. "Yes," she says finally. "But I'm driving."
I laugh, letting the darkness recede. "Not a chance,tesoro.”
* * *
The family estate looms ahead, its iron gates a stark reminder of everything I've become. Everything I never wanted to be.
Ava's quiet beside me as we drive through, her earlier sickness seemingly forgotten as she takes in the sprawling grounds.
"It's exactly like I remember," she murmurs, studying the gardens where we once stole kisses as teenagers. "Though maybe it was bigger before."
"Everything seems bigger when you're young." I park near the side entrance, closer to Angela's wing. "Ready?"
She nods, but I catch her slight hesitation. Understanding hits me. She's nervous about meeting my family properly. The thought spreads warmth through my chest.
Inside, the house echoes with emptiness. Once, these halls rang with life—my brothers' laughter, my father's booming voice, my mother's music.
Now there's only silence, broken occasionally by the sound of medical equipment and quiet footsteps.
"Stefano!" Angela's voice carries from her sitting room, bright despite everything. "Did you bring her? Is she really here?"
I feel Ava tense beside me, surprised by my sister's enthusiasm. I squeeze her hand once.
“Mask,” I say, offering her a medical-grade mask. I don’t think she needs it, but it’s better to be safe than sorry when it comes to Angela.
Angela sits surrounded by books and medical monitors as she gets her infusion, her face lit by genuine excitement. The treatments have taken her hair, but nothing dims those eyes. They are so like our mother's, that is, before grief dulled them.
"You're Ava," she says immediately, beaming. "Stefano's been afraid to bring you, but I knew you'd come eventually. He never shuts up about you."
"Angela," I warn, but there's no heat in it. She's the only person who can tease me without any consequences.