Page 61

MARIA

I thought the halls would feel haunted.

I thought they would scream at me, curse me—because these were the walls she walked.

These were the walls where she created a family with him.

But there’s a strange comfort that comes with being here. It feels… like a home. Not like the penthouse we’ve been living in these past few months. There’s a warmth that carries across the marble floors.

A life that once was still lingers in this palace of a house.

I press my hand over my belly and watch the garden outside the large floor-to-ceiling window. I needed some time for myself. The funeral was suffocating, and watching Matteo in so much pain tore at the deepest parts of my heart.

I said I’d be there for him, but this weight… if it feels this heavy on me, I can only imagine how much heavier it must be for him.

I hate seeing him like this. But he needs to grieve. He needs to mourn his son fully, and then—maybe—make space to heal.

I don’t know if I’ll still be there when that time comes. I made a promise, but being this close to him after everything that’s happened… It’s hard.

“Amore.”

My father comes to stand beside me. His familiar scent brings a flicker of comfort to my chest. “I was looking for you.”

I turn my head to the side. “Papá, I just needed some time away from everything.”

His lips tilt upward in a small smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “How are you, cara?”

I sigh, the weight of the past few days pressing down on my chest. “As well as I can be. We eradicated the man responsible for all this strife. But in the process, we lost Daniele. And it feels… bittersweet. Like we won—but we also lost.”

“Come, cara.”

My father pulls me into his arms and holds me.

I’ve always been independent. I never needed to be coddled. I stood well on my own.

But in this moment, I curl into him like the little girl who always found safety in her father’s arms.

“You are far too strong for your own good,” my father mutters into my hair.

“I need to be, Papá. He needs me. I can’t leave him right now.”

When I pull away, I see something flash in my father’s eyes—a mixture of regret and sorrow swirling in the deep waters of his gaze.

“What is it, Papá?”

He doesn’t respond at first. The tension between us thickens with every second that passes.

“Papá?” My stomach churns as I search his face.

He sighs. “Maria, I need to tell you something.”

I frown. “Tell me what?”

He pauses, gathering the courage to continue. “Maria… I can’t carry this any longer. You need to know what really happened the night Matteo shot Antonio.”

“We already know what happened, Papá.”

He shakes his head. “There’s more to the story, cara mia. Far more that I need you to prepare yourself for.”

Dread seeps into my bones, oozing from the marrow into my bloodstream. “What do you mean there’s more?”

A heavy silence falls between us before Papá finally fills it.

“Your brother, cara… he was working with Giacomo.” His mouth moves, but the words don’t register at first. “I know it’s hard to accept, but it’s the truth. He wanted to be part of this world—this blood and war.”

The disappointment in his voice cuts deep. My father tried for years to distance us from this life. He ran to Italy to give us a chance at something different—something normal. A life untouched by violence and legacy.

“He chose to live by the code.” The words escape my lips in a whisper of disbelief. “But… I don’t understand.”

“Antonio was sent to kill Matteo. That was his mission. The day he died… Matteo was ambushed. Giacomo orchestrated it—and Antonio led the charge.”

I stare at my father, stunned. The words reach my ears, but my mind struggles to make sense of them.

“Papá… are you saying…”

He nods slowly, grief shadowing his expression. “Yes, Maria. He chose the traitor’s side. Manipulated by Giacomo’s lies—just like Daniele. Antonio organized the ambush at the warehouse. He wanted to be fully immersed in this life. He wanted to make a name for himself.”

He pauses, voice shaking.

“I didn’t tell you because I was ashamed. We’re the ones who need forgiveness. He tried to kill the man who’s done more for this family than most ever will—a man we owe far more than we admit.” His voice dropped lower.

“Antonio fed Matteo false information about a stolen shipment worth millions—it was a trap. Matteo was the real target. And Antonio… he didn’t hesitate to follow Giacomo’s orders.”

I stand frozen, my mind racing.

“After Antonio’s death, I requested an autopsy.

The report said he died from suffocation.

The gunshot wound was superficial. He would’ve survived with just a scar if he hadn’t been suffocated.

I started digging. One of Antonio’s men came to me—he found footage from that day. It showed what really happened.”

His voice breaks slightly.

“Antonio attacked Matteo from behind. In the struggle, Matteo didn’t even know it was him. The shot went off by accident—they were fighting over the gun. When Matteo saw Antonio’s face, he panicked. He and Daniele rushed out to get help to take him to the hospital. He was alive.”

“But someone else was there. A shadow approached. Antonio was weak from the wound… and he was suffocated. By the time Matteo returned, Antonio was dead. He thought he’d died from the bullet.”

“They got him to the hospital within ten minutes.”

He looks away.

“I was furious. I wanted to destroy the man who killed my son. But then I saw the footage. I saw the truth. I spoke to Matteo. Told him everything. I needed his conscience to be clean—because he wasn’t the one who should feel guilty. We should. My son… was the traitor.”

His eyes shimmer. “Matteo begged me not to tell you. He didn’t want you to remember your brother that way. He chose to protect your memory of Antonio—even if it meant losing you forever. But I can’t stand by and watch him break. Losing his son, and now the woman he would give his life for…”

He places a hand gently on mine.

“Maria, you have to forgive him. It wasn’t his fault. Matteo’s shot was meant to save his son, while Antonio’s was meant to kill him. In the end, Matteo won the war. But he lost so much more. He lost his family twice.”

My breath catches and I have to use the wall to steady myself. I feel like the world tilts on its axis. I feel the air evaporate from my lungs.

“He… he didn’t kill my brother,” I utter the words. “He… he is innocent.”

My father places his hand on the small of my back and pulls me into him. I allow him to hold me while I crumble. All this time I have been moving between love and hate, trying to make sense of the violence that tore my family apart.

I pull away from him, tears streaking down my face. “I need to find him, Papá. I need to…”

My father grabs my hands and kisses the back of my knuckles affectionately. “He’s on the balcony on the second floor. I left him there before I came to see you.”

I don’t respond to him. I simply pull my hand from his grasp. My feet are already moving by the time he is done speaking. My pace is quick—frantic and desperate to get to him. My heart roars in my chest at this newfound revelation that has leveled my entire psyche.

Antonio.

My brother.

A traitor?

No. No, not him.

But then—yes. Maybe.

I didn’t know anymore.

And Matteo…

The man I’d hated.

The man I’d loved anyway.

The man I’d cursed for taking my brother away.

He didn’t do it.

He didn’t even know.

My brother—my sweet Antonio—had been the one to start all of this.

For months, I mourned him as a victim, believing he’d been gunned down in cold blood.

But the truth? He chose the side of the true devil in this story—the cold, unscrupulous murderer who’s left nothing but blood and ruin in his wake.

The man who hunted Matteo, who terrorized this family without mercy.

My heart still aches for him. I still grieve the boy I grew up with, the brother I once believed incapable of betrayal. But now, I see him in a new light—not a monster, not a martyr. Just… human. Flawed. And heartbreakingly lost.

I don’t love him any less. But the truth has cracked something open in me. It changes everything.

“One day,” I whisper into the silence of the hallway, the marble echoing beneath my feet. “One day, I will forgive you.”

My heels echo against the marble floors of the mansion as I move through the halls in search of my husband.

The pain and despair that have consumed me for weeks now begin to lift, dissolving into something quieter—something purer.

All that remains is love and grief. Love for him.

Grief for everything we’ve lost. Matteo.

I pick up my pace, searching the hallway. By the time I make it to the end, to the door that leads to the balcony, I am panting.

Then I see him through the glass. He stands stoic, hands pressed against the concrete ledge, looking out at the rolling hills of the Davacalli estate. My heart clenches in my chest—seeing him look so… devastated pains me.

His pain is mine.

I push the door to the side and step out into the cool chill of the autumn air. The wind blows through my hair, cooling the heat at the back of my neck. “Mat…”

I try to call his name, but a lump lodges in my throat and steals the rest of my words. So I say nothing. Just stand there, watching him from a distance.

He turns slowly, and when he sees me—when our eyes meet—I see it all. The weight of it. The months he’d carried it. The guilt. The silence. The grief he thought he had no right to feel.

“You know,” he says quietly when I reached him.

I nod. “Yes.”

“I told him not to tell you.”

“He told me that, too.”

A silence stretches between us—long and tight, the kind that sits between heartbreak and hope and doesn’t lean either way.

I finally ask, my voice barely more than a breath, “Why? Why would you carry that alone?”

He glances at me, then down at the ground like the truth still weighed too much.