Chapter Nine: The Brothers

She found Matteo sleeping peacefully.

His breathing equipment set up precisely as it was at home. His medications arranged neatly on the nightstand.

Someone had even brought his favorite pillow. And the worn stuffed bear he’d had since childhood. The one he claimed he hated but couldn’t sleep without.

She sank into a chair beside his bed.

Brushing his dark hair from his forehead.

So similar to hers. To their grandmother’s.

Was there truth to Vincenzo’s wild claims?

Were they really descendants of some Sicilian crime family?

The idea seemed ludicrous.

Yet the speed and efficiency with which Vincenzo had uprooted their lives suggested resources and motivations beyond a simple case of mistaken identity.

“Your room is across the hall,” Sophia said quietly from the doorway.

“There are clothes in the closet that should fit. If you need anything during the night, press the intercom button. Someone is always on duty.”

“We’re prisoners here, aren’t we?”

She didn’t look away from her sleeping brother.

The old woman clicked her tongue.

“If Vincenzo wanted prisoners, he has less comfortable accommodations. No, child. You’re under protection.”

“Is it true about my grandmother?”

Sophia hesitated.

Her weathered face revealing conflict.

“It’s not my story to tell. But I will say this. When Vincenzo mentioned your name tonight, I knew immediately. You have her eyes. Her spirit, too.”

“I think you knew my grandmother.”

“Get some rest.”

Sophia ignored the question.

“Tomorrow will bring many revelations. You’ll need your strength.”

Left alone with her sleeping brother, Lucia felt the weight of the day crash down upon her.

In the span of twenty-four hours, she’d gone from anonymous housekeeper to what?

Heir to some criminal enterprise?

Target of a blood feud?

Protected asset of Vincenzo Russo?

A man she barely knew yet who claimed to know everything about her.

She crossed to the window.

Looking out at moonlight silvering the tops of pine trees.

Somewhere beyond them lay Chicago. Her apartment. Her normal life.

A life she suddenly feared might be gone forever.

Replaced by one where Sicilian lullabies were dangerous. Birthmarks were identifying marks. And dark-eyed men with scars guarded you while simultaneously holding you captive.

What troubled her most as she prepared for sleep wasn’t the danger or the uncertainty.

It was the treacherous feeling deep inside that whispered.

This chaotic new reality might actually be where she belonged all along.

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