Chapter Thirteen: The Decision

She found Matteo in the garage.

His eyes wide with awe as Carlos showed him a sleek black Lamborghini.

Her brother’s face was flushed with excitement. More animated than she’d seen him in months. He barely noticed her arrival, too entranced by the exotic cars surrounding him.

“Can I sit in it?” he asked Carlos.

Who looked to her for permission.

She nodded.

Watching her brother carefully lower himself into the driver’s seat. His hands reverently caressing the steering wheel.

“This is insane, Lucia,” he called. “Mr. Russo said I could learn to drive when I’m feeling stronger. That he has a closed course on the property.”

The casual way he referenced Vincenzo sent a chill through her.

One day in this world and already Matteo was being seduced by its luxuries and promises.

“We need to talk,” she said. Trying to keep her voice light. “Privately.”

Reluctantly, he extracted himself from the car and followed her outside.

They sat on a stone bench overlooking a koi pond.

The property was even more extensive than she’d realized. Stretching for what seemed like acres in every direction. Ringed by dense forest and high walls.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Matteo asked once they were alone. “Are we secret mafia royalty or what?”

She showed him the photograph of their grandparents and mother.

Watching his face as he studied it.

“That’s definitely Nona,” he whispered. Touching their grandmother’s young face. “And Mom. She’s so tiny.”

He looked up.

Eyes shining.

“This is real, isn’t it?”

“It appears so.”

She explained everything Vincenzo had told her.

The family history. The territory disputes. The options before them.

Matteo listened intently. Asking occasional questions. His expression growing more serious with each revelation.

“So this Salvatore guy wants us dead because we might have claim to some old shipping routes?”

He asked when she finished.

“It’s more complicated than that. But essentially yes.”

He was quiet for a long moment.

Watching the fish swim lazy circles in the pond.

“What do you want to do?”

“I want us to be safe. That’s all that matters.”

“But if we just run away with new identities, we’d be giving up everything. Mom’s memory. Nona’s sacrifice.”

He frowned.

“And we’d always be looking over our shoulders. Wondering if they’d found us again.”

His insight surprised her.

“The alternative is dangerous, Matt. Claiming our place in this world means accepting everything that comes with it. Including the violence.”

“I’ve been living with the threat of death my entire life.”

He replied with unexpected bitterness.

“At least this way, the threat comes from something I can fight. Not just bad genetic luck.”

“Matteo, no.”

“Listen. You’ve spent years sacrificing everything for me. Your education. Your dreams. Any chance at a normal life. You clean houses and come home exhausted because my medications cost more than rent.”

His voice cracked slightly.

“What if this is our chance to change all that? To take control for once.”

She stared at him.

This boy becoming a man who saw so much more than she gave him credit for.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Nothing worth doing ever is.”

He squeezed her hand.

“And for what it’s worth, I’ve seen how Mr. Russo looks at you. That’s definitely a factor worth considering.”

Heat rushed to her face.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Matteo grinned.

“I’m sick, not blind. The guy’s clearly obsessed with you. Sophia says he’s never brought anyone to this house before. Not even his family.”

“Sophia talks too much.”

“She says his father was cold. Cruel. That Vincenzo became like him to survive. But there’s still goodness underneath.”

Matteo shrugged.

“Maybe you bring that out in him.”

“When did you become such a romantic?”

She tried to deflect.

Uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

“Around the time I realized life’s too short to waste opportunities.”

He stood.

Stretching carefully.

“I’m going to rest before dinner. Think about what I said, okay? Sometimes the most dangerous choice is actually the safest.”

After he left, she wandered the grounds alone.

Tracing paths through immaculate gardens and past a shimmering swimming pool.

Security personnel maintained a respectful distance. Visible but not intrusive.

The surreal peace of the estate contrasted sharply with the chaos of her thoughts.

By late afternoon, dark clouds gathered on the horizon.

Bringing with them a chill that drove her back indoors.

She found herself drawn to the music room she’d glimpsed earlier. A space with high ceilings, warm acoustics, and a gleaming grand piano.

Sitting at the keyboard, she began to play one of the Sicilian songs.

Singing softly.

Thinking about hidden meanings and family secrets woven into the melodies.

Now that she knew to look for them, certain phrases seemed strange. Their syllables potentially encoding locations or names.

“The third verse contains the coordinates.”

Vincenzo’s voice came from the doorway.

Startling her.

She hadn’t heard him return.

He crossed the room slowly.

His presence filling the space in a way that made it hard to breathe.

He’d changed for his meeting with Salvatore. Dark suit. Crisp white shirt. Gold cufflinks catching the light. The very image of power and control.

“Coordinates to what?”

She asked.

Her fingers still resting on the keys.

“A safety deposit box in Zurich. It contains documentation proving the Catalanos fabricated evidence against your grandfather. Proving they were the real traitors.”

He sat beside her on the bench.

Their shoulders almost touching.

“Your grandmother was clever. Teaching you songs that contained the keys to your inheritance without ever telling you what they meant.”

“She was protecting us.”

“Yes. But perhaps she also knew that someday you might need this knowledge. That someday you might choose to reclaim what was taken from your family.”

His proximity was distracting.

The subtle scent of his cologne mixing with something darker. Gunpowder perhaps. Or the lingering trace of danger that seemed to cling to him like a second skin.

“You’ve already decided what you think I should do,” she observed.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips.

“I have my preferences, yes.”

“Because it benefits your business.”

“Because it’s what you deserve.”

His hand covered hers on the keyboard.

Warm and unexpectedly gentle.

“I’ve watched you, Lucia. Watched how you hold your head high while cleaning the homes of people who barely acknowledge your existence. How you sacrifice everything for your brother without resentment. How you sing those ancient songs with such conviction despite not knowing their meaning.”

His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand.

Sending shivers up her arm.

“You were born for more than scrubbing floors. You carry the blood of one of Sicily’s most respected families. A family known not just for their power. But for their honor. Their loyalty.”

She pulled her hand away.

Standing to put distance between them.

“If they were so respected, why were they massacred?”

“Because respect breeds envy. And envy leads to betrayal.”

He remained seated.

Watching her with those intense dark eyes.

“The meeting with Salvatore confirmed what I suspected. He’s aware of your existence. Your potential claim. He’s moving to neutralize what he perceives as a threat.”

Fear clutched at her throat.

“What does that mean?”

“It means we need to accelerate our timeline.”

Vincenzo stood.

His expression grim.

“A DNA test has been arranged for tomorrow morning. By tomorrow night, we need to have made a decision about your future.”

“That’s too fast.”

“We don’t have the luxury of time anymore.”

He approached slowly.

Like someone trying not to startle a skittish animal.

“Salvatore mentioned your brother specifically. Asked if I’d heard about a young man with a respiratory condition recently admitted to my household. That level of detail means he has informants close to us.”

Her blood ran cold.

“Matteo is safe.”

“I’ve doubled security and limited staff access to the east wing.”

His hands came to rest on her shoulders.

“But we need to resolve this situation decisively, Lucia. Hiding is not a permanent solution.”

“And making me some mafia queen is.”

She pulled away again.

Anger flaring.

“I don’t know the first thing about this world. I’d be a figurehead at best. A target at worst.”

“At first, perhaps. But you would learn.”

His eyes never left hers.

“And you wouldn’t be alone.”

The implication hung in the air between them.

Not alone.

With him.

The thought was both terrifying and strangely compelling.

“Why are you really doing this, Vincenzo?”

She asked softly.

“The truth this time.”

He was quiet for so long.

She thought he might not answer.

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