Chapter 4
By midnight, the estate had changed shape.
Serena and Lucia moved into the east family wing, into rooms my blood relatives had not used in years.
Serena checked every lock herself.
Lucia inspected the bed by jumping on it twice and declaring it “not terrible.”
I assigned guards outside the hallway.
Serena made me move them ten feet farther from the door.
I did.
Marco watched all of this with open amusement until I told him he looked unemployed.
Then he got busy.
At 2 a.m., he brought me the first file on Matteo Vitale.
I read it in my office under one lamp.
Matteo Vitale.
Born in Sicily.
Adopted at seven by Salvatore Vitale after “unknown family tragedy.”
No mother listed.
No father listed.
No birth certificate attached.
Convenient.
He had come to America at twenty-one.
Married Serena at twenty-nine.
Died three years later in a car crash outside Queens.
I looked up.
“Car crash.”
Marco nodded.
“Brake failure.”
My jaw tightened.
“Who investigated?”
“Local police. Report was clean.”
“Reports are clean when dirty men wash them.”
Marco placed another folder down.
“This is where it gets worse.”
Inside was a photo of Matteo with my father.
Not public.
Not friendly.
A surveillance shot outside a warehouse.
My father had died six years ago.
This photo was from five years ago.
One year before Matteo married Serena.
“What was Matteo doing with my father?”
Marco’s voice was low.
“I think Matteo found out who Sofia was.”
I sat back.
“And my father silenced him?”
“Maybe not immediately. Maybe he tried to control him.”
I thought of Serena’s tired eyes.
A widow raising a fierce little girl with a rabbit sewn full of secrets.
“What did Matteo tell Serena?”
“Maybe nothing.”
“Or maybe he told Lucia.”
Marco looked at me.
“She was too young.”
“Children remember what adults think they forget.”
The office door opened without a knock.
Lucia walked in barefoot, rabbit dangling from one hand.
Serena rushed behind her in a robe.
“I’m sorry. She woke up and—”
Lucia pointed at me.
“You said answers.”
I looked at the clock.
“It’s two in the morning.”
“I woke up.”
“So I see.”
She climbed into the chair across from my desk like a tiny judge.
Serena looked mortified.
I gestured for her to sit.
She hesitated, then did.
Lucia looked at the files.
“Is that Daddy?”
I turned one photo toward her.
“Yes.”
She touched Matteo’s face.
“He told Bunny to keep secrets.”
Serena went still.
“What secrets, baby?”
Lucia frowned, thinking hard.
“He said if bad men come, Bunny knows where Grandma is.”
My blood went cold.
“Grandma?”
“Daddy’s mommy.”
Serena whispered, “Matteo told me his mother was dead.”
Lucia shook her head.
“He said secret grandma.”
Marco leaned forward.
“Did he say her name?”
Lucia squeezed the rabbit.
“Sofie.”
The room stopped.
Sofie.
Sofia.
Serena covered her mouth.
I could not move.
My sister was alive.
Or had been when Matteo told his daughter about her.
“Did he say where?” I asked.
Lucia nodded.
“In the house with bells.”
Rosalia had mentioned a convent.
Bells.
My mother.
Sofia.
All roads were pointing toward Palermo.
I stood.
Serena stood too.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re going to Italy.”
“Yes.”
“And you think we’re staying here.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Marco muttered, “Here we go.”
Serena glared at him.
Then at me.
“If Matteo’s mother is alive, Lucia has a right to know. If danger is coming, I need to know what kind. I spent years being told nothing by powerful men. I’m done.”
I studied her.
She was terrified.
But beneath that, steel.
Lucia came by it honestly.
“You want to come to Palermo?”
“I want answers for my daughter.”
“And if it’s dangerous?”
“Then stop making enemies.”
Marco laughed.
I ignored him.
Lucia looked at me.
“Can Bunny come?”
“Yes.”
Serena looked shocked.
“You’re agreeing?”
“I’m learning.”
Lucia smiled sleepily.
“Good.”
We left for Sicily thirty-six hours later.
Private plane.
Two guards.
Marco.
Serena.
Lucia.
The rabbit.
And me, carrying a photograph that had turned my family history into a crime scene.
As the plane lifted from New York, Serena held Lucia against her side.
She did not trust me.
Not yet.
But when Lucia fell asleep, Serena looked across the cabin.
“If your sister is alive,” she said quietly, “what will you do?”
I looked at the clouds below us.
“Bring her home.”
“And if she doesn’t want to come?”
The question hit harder than I expected.
Because I had spent my life believing the Conti name was gravity.
Everything returned to us.
Everything belonged.
But if my father had traded Sofia like debt, then maybe the kindest thing I could offer was not return.
Maybe it was choice.
“Then I’ll ask what she wants,” I said.
Serena watched me for a long time.
“That might be the first good answer you’ve given.”
I almost smiled.
“Lucia is a harsh teacher.”
“She gets that from her father.”
Her face changed after saying it.
Pain crossed her eyes.
For the first time, I wondered what Matteo had been to her.
Not a file.
Not a clue.
A man she loved.
A man who may have died because of my family.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She blinked.
“For what?”
“For whatever my name did to yours.”
She looked away.
May you like
Outside, the sky darkened over the Atlantic.
And somewhere ahead, the bells were waiting.
