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He exhales deeply. “They moved quickly since your accident. With your absence, they’ve been consolidating power, approaching the remaining family heads—particularly those loyal to your estate.”

He moves toward the wall, pulling open a locked cabinet. Inside are neatly filed documents, ledgers, and a map with red markings. His fingers glide across them with practiced care as he speaks.

“She’s convinced most of them you are too fragile to return. Some believe you dead, others that you’re incapable of leadership.” His voice hardens slightly. “She’s frozen certain accounts. Shifted routes. Broken contracts.”

I stare at the map, my gaze darting across names I recognize from my studies, names my father whispered when he still lived. Names of old Families, old debts. The arteries of Melbourne’s underworld.

“Already?” I whisper.

“They always had a plan,” he answers gravely. “And now, with you out of the picture—”

“I’m not out,” I cut in sharply. My voice is steadier than I feel.

He studies me for a moment and nods approvingly. “Then you must start reclaiming ground before she secures all her alliances. Quietly, strategically. We’ll need to reach the minor Families first. The ones who only followed them out of fear or convenience.”

I glance at him. “The weak links.”

He smiles faintly. “Precisely. And once they bend, others will follow.”

I clench my jaw, swallowing down the rush of fury that bubbles inside me. Then, softly, I ask him the question that’s gnawed at my insides for weeks. “You know then. Who I really am.”

His expression grows heavier, but his voice remains gentle. “The daughter of Matteo Accardi,” he says softly, speaking the name of Serevin’s adoptive father—the man who orchestrated this game before either of us could walk.

I lower my head and whisper, “My father told you?”

“Long ago,” he confirms. “Before your marriage was arranged. Before you even returned to Melbourne.”

I hesitate before daring to ask the next question. “Did my father even love me?”

Plunging me into this game blindsided.

Stefano pauses. He breathes deeply, as if weighing not what to say, but how much I am ready to hear.

“Men in this world live and die by greed,” he says quietly. “Your mother sold you to the highest bidder. And your father—perhaps he loved you as much as a man like him could love anything. But he had his goals, child. That love was never pure. Nothing in this world is.”

The bitterness tastes like iron on my tongue. I nod slowly. My hands tremble slightly.

“And you?” I whisper, raising my eyes to him now, searching for one—just one—person without an agenda. “What about you, Brother Stefano? What’s in it for you?”

He smiles, warm and patient, reaching out to touch my hand gently.

“Your hefty donations keep many children fed,” he says softly. “And your smile gives peace to an old man’s heart.” His eyes glisten as he adds, “I have always seen the girl behind the bloodlines, Fioretta. And if you let me, I will help you reclaim what is yours.”

For the first time in days, my chest loosens slightly. My jaw unclenches. I manage a small smile, even as my head continues to pound from all I’ve learned.

“Then let’s begin.”

I sit across from Brother Stefano, my chest still tightening with the storm brewing inside me. But my voice is calm—sharp, steady. “I need a safe house. A car. Men I can trust.”

Brother Stefano nods without hesitation, as though he anticipated this moment long before I ever stepped foot into his office.

“You shall have all of it, child. Give me an hour. Stay within the chapel while I make arrangements.” He rises, already pulling out his phone, his expression hardening as he steps aside to place his first call.

I leave him to his work and head back to the car where Emilia waits. She looks up when she sees me approach, her face a mixture of dread, hope, and something else I can’t quite name.

“Well?” she asks.

“It’s done,” I say simply. “You're free to go.”

She blinks, processing my words. And then, as though remembering her role to play, her face softens. “But you haven’t eaten yet.”

“I’m fine,” I reply coolly. “Brother Stefano will have something sent.”

“Please.” She clasps her hands together, her voice fragile. “Please. Let me do this for you. As an apology…for everything.”

I stare at her, my stomach giving an unfortunate, well-timed growl. The treacherous thing betrays me.

Her eyes flicker to my stomach and then back to my face. “Just a small breakfast. I promise.”

I exhale, narrowing my eyes. My better judgment screams at me, but the exhaustion dulls my edge. “Fine.”

She beams, relief washing over her features. “The car’s already out front. It won't take long.”

I slide into the passenger seat, pulling my cap down again as Emilia joins me on the driver’s side. The engine hums to life, and for a brief moment, I allow myself to relax—until a sharp movement from behind jerks my entire body back against the seat.

A strong arm snakes around my neck, pinning me. My hands shoot up instinctively, grabbing at the arm, nails digging in. But it’s too late.

I feel the sting of a needle piercing my skin just beneath my ear.

The cold liquid burns as it enters my bloodstream.

I thrash weakly, my vision already dimming at the edges. My limbs grow heavy, my muscles slack. My ears ring violently.

Through the haze, I see Emilia. She’s standing outside the car now, her hands covering her mouth, tears spilling freely down her cheeks.

“Emilia…” I manage to whisper, my voice cracking as my head lolls forward.

She breaks down, sobbing uncontrollably. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Fee!”

Her figure blurs into darkness as my world tilts sideways. The last thing I hear before everything fades is the sound of her broken cries.