Power is only dangerous when you don't know who's trying to steal it.
And tonight, I realize I might be surrounded by traitors.
I pace the edge of my study, the photo of Valentina Romano—Elena's mother—in my hand. She's standing too close to my father. Closer than she ever should have been. The kind of closeness that hides secrets in shadows and warps truths until they snap like bones under pressure.
"Elena's mother knew him," I murmur aloud. "More than just knew."
There's a fire roaring in the hearth, but it does nothing to thaw the chill creeping into my chest. My father was many things—cold, brutal, calculating—but a liar above all else. And now I have no way to ask him the one question I need answered:
Why did he keep this from me?
I pour myself a drink I don't taste.
Then I make the call.
"Tell Riccardo to meet me. The old wine cellar. No guards. No excuses."
My uncle shows up an hour later, moving like a man who's always known how to keep his sins hidden behind tailored suits and silver hair. He steps into the dim light, his expression unreadable.
"You summoned me like a dog, nipote," he says smoothly. "Should I roll over too?"
"Cut the bullshit." I toss the photo on the table between us. "What do you know about this?"
He glances at it.
Pauses.
Then leans back with a sigh.
"I always told your father the past would catch up to him."
My pulse spikes. "Start talking."
Riccardo's fingers drum once against the table. A nervous tic. A tell.
"They were in love," he says finally. "Valentina and your father."
I go cold.
"You're lying."
"I wish I were."
"She married Enzo Romano. Had Elena."
Riccardo nods slowly. "And when your father ordered the Romanos wiped out, he hesitated. For the first time in his life, he faltered. Because she begged him to spare the girl."
I clench my fists. "So he kept her alive out of pity?"
"No," Riccardo says. "Out of guilt. Because Valentina was pregnant when she left him."
The words slam into me like a bullet.
Pregnant.
I stare at him. "Are you telling me Elena is my sister?"
"No," he says sharply. "No. The timing doesn't add up. She's Enzo's daughter. But Valentina was his first love. Before the war. Before all of it. And he never forgave her for leaving."
I breathe. Slowly. Carefully.
"And the betrayal?"
Riccardo's eyes gleam. "She gave Syndicate intel to an FBI handler she once trusted. Information that could have taken all of us down. But it never reached its target. Your father intercepted it. Buried it."
"So why kill her?"
"Because she was going to try again."
My mouth goes dry.
"And now her daughter is back. Living in your house. Sleeping in your bed. Do you understand the risk she poses?"
I move faster than I should. Fist slamming into the wall behind him, an inch from his head.
"She's not her mother," I growl. "And she's under my protection."
"You're thinking with your dick, Alessio."
"No. I'm thinking with the part of me that remembers what loyalty is."
He watches me, cold and quiet.
Then he shrugs. "Just be sure she's not thinking with revenge."
He leaves me with that.
I stare at the photo again.
My father's arm around a woman he claimed was the enemy.
The mother of the girl who now owns my soul without knowing it.
I told Elena I'd burn the world for her.
But what if the world I have to burn… is my own?