Chapter 3 - THE MAN BESIDE HIM
Carlo Serra had been with Vittorio since they were nineteen.
He had stood beside him when Vittorio’s father died.
Protected Isabella at their wedding.
Held Vittorio’s newborn son before half the family did.
Now his car was gone.
Two guards lay wounded near the warehouse entrance.
Not dead.
Carlo could have killed them.
He chose not to.
That meant something.
Vittorio hated not knowing what.
Renzo was taken to a secure clinic.
Sophia refused to leave his side.
Vittorio knelt beside her before she entered the ambulance.
“Your father is alive because of you.”
She looked down.
“I was scared.”
“Good.”
She frowned.
“Good?”
“Only fools are never afraid.”
Sophia considered.
“Are you scared?”
Vittorio almost lied.
Then remembered she had saved him because she noticed what adults ignored.
“Yes.”
She nodded as though that made sense.
Then the ambulance left.
Alessio stood beside Vittorio.
“Carlo.”
“I know.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Find out why he didn't kill the guards.”
Alessio gave him a look.
“You’re getting thoughtful in old age.”
“I’m thirty-seven.”
“Ancient.”
For the first time that morning, Vittorio almost smiled.
They returned to the villa.
Isabella sat in the drawing room under guard.
The cream silk dress was gone.
She wore trousers and one of Vittorio’s old sweaters.
He hated that.
It made her look like the woman he remembered.
The woman who stole his shirts and drank coffee barefoot in the kitchen.
He stood across from her.
“Carlo.”
Her eyes moved.
“What about him?”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“You knew he was involved.”
“I knew Luca spoke to someone close to you.”
“Name?”
“He never told me.”
Vittorio believed her.
That surprised him.
“Why did you help fake Alessio’s death?”
She looked at his brother.
Alessio remained by the window.
“Because Luca said he would kill my father.”
Vittorio frowned.
“Your father died of a stroke.”
“Yes.”
“Before Alessio disappeared.”
“No.”
Isabella looked at him.
“My father died four months after.”
Vittorio checked the timeline in his head.
She was right.
“Luca threatened him.”
“Yes.”
“And you believed him.”
“He had already killed someone else.”
“Who?”
Isabella looked toward Alessio.
“Enzo’s older brother.”
Vittorio went still.
He never knew.
“Why?”
“He found something in Luca’s shipping accounts.”
Everyone kept finding things.
Everyone around Vittorio had known pieces of a hidden war while he sat at the center believing visibility meant control.
Isabella began crying.
“I thought I could survive Luca.”
“You married me.”
“Yes.”
“Was that part of it?”
She looked at him.
“At first.”
The truth hurt.
“I approached you because Luca wanted access.”
Vittorio said nothing.
“Then I loved you.”
Alessio laughed bitterly.
Isabella turned.
“I did.”
Vittorio asked:
“Did you love me this morning?”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“While sending me into a bomb?”
Her face broke.
“I thought if I refused, Luca would kill our son.”
Vittorio stopped breathing.
“Where is Matteo?”
Their four-year-old son had supposedly spent the previous night with Isabella’s mother.
Isabella looked at him.
“Not with my mother.”
Vittorio crossed the room.
“Where is my son?”
“Luca took him yesterday.”
Everything else disappeared.
The betrayal.
The kiss.
Carlo.
Sicily.
Only one thing remained.
Matteo.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Luca said if your men moved, he’d kill him.”
“And you believed killing me would save him?”
“I believed Luca would return him once you were gone.”
Alessio stared at her.
“You believed your brother?”
“No.”
She whispered.
“I believed I had no other choice.”
Vittorio looked at her for a long time.
Then:
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
He turned away.
Isabella shouted:
“Vittorio!”
He stopped.
“The kiss.”
He looked back.
“I know what you saw.”
He said nothing.
“I needed Matteo Ferri to believe I was still committed.”
Vittorio's expression did not change.
“That does not matter today.”
It might matter someday.
Or never.
But not today.
Then Alessio’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Carlo.
“Put him on speaker.”
Carlo’s breathing sounded hard.
“Boss.”
Vittorio said:
“You have thirty seconds before I decide what you are.”
Carlo almost laughed.
“Fair.”
“Where are you?”
“Following Luca.”
Alessio and Vittorio exchanged a look.
Carlo continued:
“I knew Renzo would name me.”
“Why?”
“Because Luca paid one of the warehouse men to say my name if Morelli forces arrived.”
A frame.
“Why run?”
“If I stayed, your men would lock me down while Luca moved the boy.”
“What boy?”
Silence.
Then:
“Matteo.”
Vittorio’s hand tightened.
“You knew.”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“Where?”
“Luca moved him in a white ambulance toward Caserta.”
Vittorio looked at Isabella.
She covered her mouth.
Carlo continued:
“I’m behind them.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
Good answer.
“Then give me something.”
Carlo sent a live location.
Alessio checked.
Moving north.
Vittorio said:
“Stay on them.”
“I am.”
Then Carlo added:
“Boss.”
“What?”
“There is something else.”
Vittorio closed his eyes.
Of course.
“The Palermo meeting.”
“Yes?”
“It was never about killing you.”
“What was it about?”
“Starting a war after you died.”
Vittorio understood.
If Naples blamed Palermo for his assassination, Morelli retaliation would ignite.
Luca could take shipping corridors while everyone fought.
Isabella’s supposed inheritance of the villa was theater.
The real target was chaos.
Carlo said:
“One of the Sicilian bosses is already dead.”
Vittorio stared.
“Which?”
“Salvatore Greco.”
The oldest.
Most respected.
“And they’re blaming you.”
Perfect.
Both sides manipulated into vengeance.
Vittorio’s phone began ringing.
Palermo.
He answered.
A man shouted:
“You murdered Greco!”
Vittorio looked at Alessio.
Then at Isabella.
Then toward the road north where his son was being carried away.
He spoke quietly.
“No.”
The shouting stopped.
“I was supposed to die too.”
Silence.
Then:
“Prove it.”
Vittorio looked at Sophia’s cracked phone on the table.
The recording.
The false driver.
The bomb.
Evidence.
“Give me one hour.”
He hung up.
Alessio said:
“An hour?”
Vittorio picked up his coat.
May you like
“Then we better find Matteo in fifty minutes.”
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