Page 12 of Bittersweet Endings (Agostino Crime Family #6)

I read through his messages, snarling at the second in a chain of bullshit, my jaw ticking at the image attached.

If you see this girl, I want her unharmed. Reward is ten grand.

Octavia was smiling in the photo. It was grainy, taken from a distance, but it was her. Even blurred by the lens, I could see it. The smile was a lie. She looked tired. Haunted. My little doll was unraveling.

And that made me smile. Because she wasn’t a little doll anymore. She was breaking—cracking in all the right places—and when she finally fell apart, she’d know exactly who to crawl back to .

Me. The only one who ever enjoyed her broken pieces better than that painted farce.

“I keep my promises.” I raised my gun, my glare glued to the photo as I put one between the fucker’s eyes.

“Fuck!”

I glanced up to find Lorenzo scowling at me.

“Fucking warn me, asshole.” He ripped off his shirt and used it to wipe the blood off his face.

***

My brothers and I piled into the car heading back to my penthouse in LA. Matteo was on the phone with Eva. She wanted to come home, but now wasn’t the time.

Not long after that, we were jumping out and making our way inside. The receptionist stopped me. “Sir, there is a woman upstairs waiting for you. She was cleared by one of your men.”

My dick got hard picturing my little doll.

I drew my gun, nodding at my men when we got off the elevator. No one said a word as I stormed inside. But my excitement was quickly doused when I saw who was staring back at me.

Placing her book on her lap, she smiled and patted the sofa like she didn’t see the gun in my hand. She’d never been the best mother, allowing her husband to raise us with bloody fists. But she was still family.

“My boys.” She smiled softly. “No Eva? I haven’t seen her in months.” Her feigned concern was baffling. It was also award-worthy.

“Where is he, Ma?” I demanded, because I knew she had to know.

“Now, now, no pleasantries, Carmine?” she purred, her voice thick and fake.

Then, she rolled her eyes, slow and deliberate, and for the first time in my life, I had the real urge to wrap my hands around her dainty throat.

To squeeze until that smug look was wiped off her face.

“He’s been around,” she went on, her lips curling like the words bored her.

“You know how he is—always busy, always working. Still working hard for this family, even after you spat in his face over that Agostino girl.” Her mouth twisted on the name. Like it was filth.

Lorenzo and Matteo both stiffened. None of us had ever heard her speak like that, especially not to us . She’d always played the polished matriarch, turning a blind eye to JP’s methods, pretending to love us while he trained us like soldiers about to go to war.

And Eva? He barely spared her a glance while he treated us like fucking dogs. Broken ribs. Black eyes. Split lips. And this bitch would just sip her champagne and laugh.

Boys will be boys, she’d say if anyone ever asked about the marks on our bodies.

My scowl deepened, my voice low enough to chill the marrow in her bones. “Watch it, Mother.”

She arched a brow, like I was the one being disrespectful. And then, she saw the real me too.

“I’ve always used caution with you. Out of respect. But push again, and you’ll meet the monster your husband created.”

Her lips snapped shut. The air around her changed—just a touch at first—but I saw it. She tensed like a deer sensing danger, the hunter closing in. She knew exactly what her husband had done, the monster he’d created, and that I was no longer afraid to wear the title.

Still, she gave us nothing. Every word she spoke was vague, deflective, deliberate. The man was obsessive. About power, about control, about her . And still, she claimed she knew nothing.

“I’ll be seeing him soon,” she said, her voice soft but her eyes sharp. “New York gala. He’ll be there. With me.” A pause. “Figured you’d want to know… before things change and you can’t get a ticket.”

That cold smirk was back on her lips, like she’d won something. But she hadn’t. Not yet.

How had I never seen it before? She wasn’t a mother. She was just as crazy as the fucker she married.

“It’s a fundraiser for a women’s shelter,” she continued, smiling like it amused her. “Tragic place. So much pain, so little progress. Even with Isabella Agostino’s name attached, it’s still floundering.” She sipped her drink, her nails tapping her book like a countdown.

My blood was boiling with the knowledge he was already in New York. Hadn’t left since the club.

“Of course, it’ll take real power—a stronger name—to make it respectable. Mine.”

Same east versus west bullshit in designer heels. We were raised on pride, lies, and silence.

“Now,” she purred, smiling coldly. “When are you boys making me a grandmother? Especially you, Carmine.”

“Enough, Ma,” Lorenzo growled, while Matteo stood silently.

She turned to me. “Don’t chase east coast trash. The west is your blood. Find a proper girl, settle down, and your father will welcome you back, arms wide, like you’ve always begged him to do.”

“There’s never been peace between us,” I grunted. “And when the fuck have I begged him for anything?”

She laughed. “He made you strong. Loyal. Built for this family. And the second you taste freedom, you spit in his face.” Her eyes iced over.

“You knew what she was—a message, a sacrifice. And still, you threw it all away. For what? Sex? Your father’s tired of your defiance.

” My mother leaned forward, her voice dropping like poison into a wound.

“For someone who’s spent half his life swearing vengeance for Sal, you’ve forgotten him awfully quick.

That’s why I call her a witch . She’s ensnared my son. Twisted your mind.”

I stood. Rage had my fists clenched before my brain caught up.

“Carmine.” Matteo’s hand snapped to my arm, holding me in place.

But I didn’t look at him. I looked at her. And just like that, the mask slipped again. Her mouth dropped in mock surprise, a hand delicately placed to her chest, like I’d broken her heart.

“See?” she whispered. “She’s inside your head, son. Corrupting you. Poisoning you. But we—your father and I—we are not your enemy.”

She continued to clutch her chest, gasping for air like she was the one being suffocated by the bullshit this family caused. Like I was the villain in her tragedy. Like I didn’t grow up with the weight of my father’s fists, his fucked-up words, or her neglect pressing into my every waking moment.

“Watch what you say, Mother.” My patience was running thin.

“Are you picking her ?” She shook her head. “No, I forbid it, Carmine.”

I had no words. Words didn’t work with her—with my father. Words were twisted, flipped, repurposed to suit whatever story she’d told herself so she could confidently look the other way. But now she was looking directly at me.

“After everything we’ve done for you?—”

My laugh was bitter and sharp. “Everything you’ve done to me.” That landed. I saw it. I felt it. And it was goddamn invigorating .

I saw a flicker of something real. Guilt, anger, recognition. But it was gone just as fast. Buried beneath layers of practiced poise and arrogance. Still, she wanted to put on a show and staggered back like I’d hit her. Like my words were weapons when they were merely the truth.

“This isn’t fair,” she whispered. “Carmine, boys, we gave you a good life. Far better than what I had before I married your father and?—”

I cut her off, not giving a damn how she saw it.

Because I could only focus on the one thing that came out of her mouth.

Fair. That word. Like my father ever played fair in how he treated us.

Like I hadn’t spent years patching up the lessons he’d beaten into us.

Like she didn’t teach me that her love for a monster was more important than us.

I let out a slow breath. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Her face twisted, switching between sadness and rage. Almost like she couldn’t decide which would force me to fall back in line. “So that’s it? You’re throwing il famiglia away?”

I shrugged Matteo loose. “Listen to me, Mother. Your husband killed my uncle.”

She flinched, and my jaw dropped.

“You knew. You fuckin’ knew.”

Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. For the first time in my life, my mother didn’t have some bullshit to spew. If she didn’t watch her step, I’d bury her in the same goddamn grave with her beloved.

“Now, now.” She stood, straightening her blouse. “Carmine, you know better than anyone about the rumors that surround us.”

My hand wrapped around her throat, and I tugged her towards my face. Lorenzo and Matteo tried stepping in, but I ignored them. My grip just tight enough to be a message.

“Do. Not. Lie. To me,” I ground out. “You knew. And you’ve been covering for him for years. Covering for him on everything he’s done. Even to your own children.”

The light and defiance flickered out of her eyes. For once, I could see that guard of hers drop and vulnerability came in. If I were a weaker man, I’d feel sorry for her. But I knew for a fact that he didn’t treat her the way he treated us. She was his goddamn queen.

Not anymore. They were both dead to me.

“Get the fuck out of here before I do something I regret.” I let her go, and she stepped back, holding her throat while coughing like I’d squeezed the life out of her. “Go ahead and tell Daddy if you want. I don’t care. But be careful he doesn’t grow tired of you too.”

She grabbed her bag and walked past us, without looking us in the eye. Her silence and dismissal shouted the sad truth. Once again, she’d take his side.

“Are we all fuckin’ stupid or did we honestly never see the real her before?” Lorenzo asked.

“Appears to have the same disposition as JP. Crazy and greedy,” Matteo muttered.

“Spread the word,” I addressed one of my men at the door. “She isn’t welcome in any establishment me or my siblings own. Got it?”

He nodded, typing away on his cell.

“If they’re going to New York, they’re going to start a war,” Matteo repeated what I already knew.

“When we hoppin’ a flight?” Lorenzo rubbed his hands together. “Fresh east coast pussy is callin’ me!”

Matteo glanced at him and then at me, concern etched on his face. I told my soldato to have our plane on standby just in case.

“Do you think going to New York is a good idea? Maybe you should call and warn Mario,” Matteo urged. “You can still claim her, Carmine.”

I ignored him. New York wasn’t my problem. Dealing with my father was. And even if a certain little brunette wandered into my brain, I had to bury her away. For now.

“We move on like nothing happened. Let her run back to JP and tell him whatever she wants. If he sees we’re out doing our own thing, he might drop his guard,” I commanded.

“Fuck yeah!” Lorenzo jumped to his feet. “Late night parties, club hopping, whores! Woot!”

Matteo rolled his eyes as we started talking. We were going to go about our business and our lives like we didn’t give a fuck. The Ragetti sons were always plastered online for our antics in public. Nothing was changing.

My soldatos would paint the streets red all across Los Angeles while New York was forced to the back of my mind. Even if everything inside me wanted to go sink my cock into my porcelain doll. Begging to feel her teeth. Begging to make her hate me more.