Page 127 of Broken Mafia Bride

“I’ve faced too many disappointments,” he continues. “Only one thing has unfolded as I intended.”

I grab the gun—and then feel the cold barrel of a different gun press against the back of my neck.

A familiar voice speaks.

“Drop the gun, Giulia.”

Lucio turns to face me, a smirk lifting his lips. “Right on cue, my dear. Shoot her, Caterina.”

“Don’t!” I bark, my chest rising and falling too fast. “Don’t listen to him. You don’t owe him anything—he’s been lying to you for years.”

Throughout Lucio’s recounting of the past—of that dreadful day on the bridge—he never once spoke of Valentina in the past tense. Because she’s alive.

She’s been here all this time, hidden by Lucio’s manipulation and given a false identity. And now, with my fingers still curled around the heart-shaped medallion—the same one Valentinawore that day—I know, without a doubt: It’s her. It’s always been her.

“Kill her, Caterina!” he demands.

“Valentina, don’t do this,” I plead, voice rough with emotion.

She flinches. “Why do you call me that?”

“Because I know your family,” I say carefully.

The gun presses tighter into my skin. “You’re lying,” she snaps, eyes narrowing. “You lived your whole life in the States—how could you possibly know my family?”

“Because you are my family,” I say, my voice trembling now. “You’re my sister. Lucio manipulated you the same way he manipulated me. He didn’t save you from the streets or whatever bullshit he’s fed you for years. He killed our mother and stole you away. He’s a sick bastard, and you don’t owe him your loyalty.”

Her hand trembles, the gun wavering just slightly.

“Don’t listen to her, Caterina,” Lucio cuts in sharply. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“I don’t believe you,” Caterina whispers, shaking her head. “You’re lying!”

“I’m not,” I cry out, my voice breaking. “You’re not a killer, Val. You’re the sister who always did whatever Mama and Papa wanted. The kind one. The one who never got in trouble. The one who wore pink bows in her hair, carried an obnoxiously bright blanket, and overheard someone say ‘sucks’ one time and then started using it to describe literally everything.”

The barrel shakes against my neck.

I can feel her hands trembling.

Lucio’s gaze flicks between us, fury twisting his face into something almost inhuman.

“Caterina,” he snarls. “Igaveyou the perfect life?—”

“You stoleherfrom her perfect life!” I snap, the words tearing from my throat. “We had a family. Arealone. Until you destroyed it. You’re a monster.”

His expression hardens.

“And you’re just a dumb little girl who never learned to keep her nose out of things that didn’t concern her,” he growls. “I should’ve killed you a long time ago.”

He points at me like I’m an inconvenience to be erased.

“Enough. Caterina, shoot her.Now.”

I hear Cat suck in a breath behind me—sharp, shaky.

Indecision crackles in the air between us.

My mind flashes to the cliff. To the song on the radio.