BELLA'S POV
Early the next morning, Tommaso woke me up for breakfast. The memories of what happened the previous day rushing back. My penthouse- softened body aches from the poor quality mattress I slept on. Sleep was okay, I thought I was going to dream about Dante, but this was one of the best nights I have had in a while.
The coffee Tommaso brought tasted like ash, but I drank it anyway.
Tommaso sat across from me, placing a worn leather journal between us.
"Your father's," he said, touching the journal delicately.
I stared at the initials burned into the cover. A.S. Alessandro Sovereign. A warm feeling spread across my chest, my father. I know I can't bond with him properly but I wish to know how he was.
"Tell me about the night they died." My voice came out steadier than usual "Everything. Don't leave anything out."
Tommaso studied me for a long moment, like he was deciding something. Then he poured himself more coffee, the silence stretching, only the sound of the coffee pouring can be heard.
Finally, he spoke.
"It was supposed to be a peace summit" my heart skipped a bit at the sound of the first sentence, it sounds tragic even before he could tell the full story. I urge him to go on.
"Your father and Lorenzo Vitale had been at war for years—territorial disputes, shipping routes, the usual bullshit, the enmity was obviously not favoring both parties, Alessandro then suggested they meet. Neutral ground. In an old monastery outside Palermo."
"Your father didn't trust it." He added quickly , then he paused, opening the journal, handling it with care like it's some holy book."But he went anyway. Because he'd given his word."
My father was a gentleman even in the world of bloodshed.
" He brought twenty men. I was supposed to be part of them, but my wife had an emergency, so I stopped at the last minute. Lorenzo brought his son Nico and thirty men." Tommaso's jaw clenched. "All they wanted was for the bloodshed to end."
"What happened?" Urging him to continue the conversation.
Instead of answering, Tommaso pulled photos from inside the journal. In the photo were bodies, several bodies, a gruesome crime scene.
Blood pooling on ancient stone floors, staining centuries-old frescoes. Bullet holes in walls that had stood for hundreds of years. A massacre in a holy place.
I couldn't look away.
"They said the Vitales opened fire first," Tommaso said quietly. "But look closer."
I forced myself to study the carnage. Bodies in different outfits and colors, all dead.
"Both sides were slaughtered," I whispered.
"Including Nico Vitale. Lorenzo's only son." Tommaso added, pointing to a young man's body, face frozen in shock. "If the Vitales planned an ambush, why sacrifice Lorenzo's heir?"
The question hung in the air like smoke.
"It doesn't make sense," I said slowly.
"No. It doesn't." Tommaso leaned back, something dark crossing his face. "But here's what does make sense—within three months, Dante Caruso had claimed both Sovereign and Vitale territories. While both families were bleeding and broken, he swept in like a savior. 'Restoring order,' he called it."
My hands tightened on the cup until my knuckles went white.
" I can't prove it, never could. But I know Dante ordered it."
He turned pages in the journal until he found what he was looking for. "Your father wrote this two days before the meeting, it was meant for Anthony, but he couldn't get it."
I leaned forward, reading my father's handwriting for the first time. The writing was impressive.
Meeting with Vitale feels wrong. Caruso was not supposed to accept the union, his quietness is suspicious, if anything happens, protect Isabella at all cost.
The words blurred.
My father knew. He suspected, and he'd gone anyway because his word mattered more than his life.
I was thirteen when he died, living with Anthony. Completely unaware that my real parents were walking into a trap.
"Who managed the investigation?" I asked with a lowered voice.
"The Caruso offered to lead it personally." Tommaso's laugh was bitter. "Said he'd find justice for both families. Three months later, the case was declared closed. They blamed Vitales, and the matter settled. Meanwhile, he'd already absorbed both territories into Caruso control."
He pulled out more documents.
"Payments from Caruso accounts," Tommaso said. "Dated two weeks before the massacre. To a suspicious accounts"
I studied the papers. Multiple transactions, carefully coded but traceable if you knew what to look for.
"Who authorized these?"
"Marco Salvatore." Tommaso's finger found the signature. "Giovanni's right hand back then. Now Dante's right hand. Convenient how that worked out."
Marco.
Marco was in charge of a lot of things while I was still married to Dante, he can't transact money without Dante's approval. Which means Dante gave him the go ahead for this.
Tommaso's expression shifted. "Dante took over the family business at seventeen, right after Giovanni died of a convenient heart attack. The massacre happened a few weeks after Dante became the Don. No one knew Giovanni was dead"
"You think Dante killed his own father?"
"I think a seventeen-year-old boy inherited an empire built on blood." Tommaso met my eyes. " His father died and he massacred all threats, don't you think the coincidence is too obvious." He shrugged. "You tell me the difference."
There wasn't one.
Dante had lived in luxury built on my family's corpse. Had controlled my father's ports, used my father's alliances, and ruled my father's territories.
For fifteen years.
I stood abruptly, the chair scraping against concrete. I walked to the window overlooking Palermo.
Behind me, Tommaso waited.
"My parents wanted a normal life for me…." My voice broke.
"Yes,a normal life." His voice was gentle. "That's why your mother gave you to Anthony at birth. She wanted you safe. Away from blood and violence."
I pressed my forehead against the cold glass.
"But I'm here now."
I turned to face him. " I want everything they took. Every territory. Every alliance. Every piece of power they built on my family's bones."
Tommaso smiled proudly "Training starts soon, hope you're ready to become what you were born to be."
"I'm ready."
After he left, I looked at my reflection in the dark window. For a long time I kept on thinking about what Tommaso said, if I was truly ready.
Suddenly a knock came through making me jump a bit,
Tommaso entered without waiting, face grim
"We have a problem." He tossed a manila envelope onto the table.
Confused, I opened it with shaking hands.
Inside: a single photograph.
Two young men, mid-twenties, laughing together at a bar. One I didn't recognize. The other had my father's eyes, my father's smile.
I flipped it over.
Written on the back in red ink: An eye for an eye, your father killed my heir, I will kill his.
My throat went dry. "Who sent this?"
Tommaso's jaw clenched. "That's what you need to understand, principessa. You're not just fighting the Carusos anymore."