4. Lucrezia
Chapter 4
Lucrezia
D aniela always preferred the illusion of normalcy—a perfect little world tucked away from the chaos of our family’s empire. I smirk at the irony as I approach her home, a charming two-story with a white picket fence and flower boxes brimming with petunias. It looks like something out of a catalog.
The gate creaks softly as I slip into the backyard, carefully avoiding the motion-sensor lights. Old habits die hard. The spare key is still tucked beneath the third stone in the garden path, just as it was at the family home years ago when we’d sneak out after curfew. I let myself in through the kitchen door, the familiar scent of vanilla and fresh lemons wrapping around me like a forgotten embrace.
Inside, the house is dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of ambient lights she must leave on for comfort. Everything is immaculate—gleaming countertops, perfectly arranged cushions on the sofa, framed photographs lining the walls. I pause by a picture of us from years ago, arms wrapped around each other, smiles wide and carefree. Back when things were simple. Back when I still believed in family.
I move to the living room and sink into the plush armchair tucked in the corner. The ticking of an ornate clock on the mantle counts the seconds with relentless precision. Each tick amplifies the tension coiling within me. I let my gaze wander, noting Daniela’s clean, crisp style in everything from the drapes to the blanket carefully thrown over the corner of the couch.
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway snaps me back to the present. Headlights sweep across the front windows before settling into darkness. I hear the faint jingling of keys, followed by the click of the front door unlocking.
The door swings open, and Daniela steps inside, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the porch light. She closes the door behind her, locking it with a flick of her wrist. Dressed in a tailored suit and heels, she exudes the polished elegance that always comes so naturally to her. She sets her purse on the entryway table and flicks on the hall light.
As she turns toward the living room, her gaze meets mine across the dim space. For a split second, confusion mars her features, her mind grappling with the unexpected presence. Then, instinctively, her hand dives into her purse, pulling out a small handgun. She aims it at me, her grip steady despite the shock.
“Who are you?” she demands, her voice firm but laced with uncertainty. Her manicured finger hovers near the trigger, ready to pull at a moment’s notice.
I remain seated, hands resting calmly on the arms of the chair, making no sudden movements. “Hello, Dani.”
Her eyes widen, the gun wavering ever so slightly as recognition crashes over her like a wave. The color drains from her face. “Lucrezia?” The name escapes her lips like a ghost, disbelief coloring every syllable.
“Surprise,” I say softly, a wry smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.
Daniela lowers the gun, letting it slip from her fingers and clatter onto the hardwood floor. In an instant, she crosses the room, closing the distance between us. Tears glisten in her eyes as she pulls me into a hug.
“You’re here,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “You’re really here.”
I wrap my arms around her, the familiar warmth of her body pressing against mine. For a moment, I allow myself to sink into the comfort of her embrace, the years of separation melting away.
“I missed you,” she breathes, pulling back to look at me. Her hands cup my face, fingers trembling slightly as if she fears I might vanish. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”
I search her eyes, and the genuine concern and love shining there make what I have to do all the more difficult. “I couldn’t risk it. If Saverio knew I was coming back, he would’ve tried to stop me.”
Her brow furrows, confusion flickering across her features as she processes my words. A strand of hair falls across her face, but she doesn’t brush it away. “Stop you? Why would he?—”
“Because he doesn’t want me here,” I interject, my tone sharper than intended, the words cutting through the air like glass. I step out of her grasp, putting a small distance between us, my arms wrapping around my middle as if to shield myself. “He made that abundantly clear when he sent me away.”
Daniela’s gaze drops to the floor, her fingers twisting together anxiously, a nervous habit she’s had since childhood. The silver ring on her right hand catches the light as she fidgets. She’s engaged or perhaps betrothed to someone in my brother’s regime. “I know things weren’t ideal between the two of you, but he was just trying to protect you.”
A bitter laugh escapes my throat before I can stop it. “Protect me? Is that what you call it?” My hands clench at my sides, knuckles turning white with the effort of containing my emotions.
She looks up, eyes pleading. “Lucrezia, please. He said it was for your own good. That you needed time away to heal.”
“Is that what he told you?” I shake my head, anger simmering beneath the surface. “He exiled me, Daniela. He ripped me from my life, my home, and left me to rot.”
She takes a step back, shock evident on her face. “Exiled? What are you talking about? He said you went to Italy by choice.”
“By choice?” The words taste sour on my tongue. “I was dragged onto a private plane in the middle of the night, drugged, and shipped off like cargo. Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?”
Tears spill down her cheeks, mascara leaving dark trails on her skin. “I didn’t know. He told us you needed space after... after everything. We all believed him. We mourned you.”
“After everything?” I advance toward her, each step measured and deliberate. “Do you mean after Saverio promised me to Dante Terlizzi and then allowed Dante to renege on the deal? After Dante backed out of our engagement because my virginity had been stripped away by father’s men? I was sent away to be beaten and humiliated by the very people who were supposed to protect me. And the person who sent me away was the very same man who sat at our dinner table and called himself my family.”
Daniela’s perfectly manicured hand flies to her mouth, a strangled sob escaping her lips. A designer bracelet catches the light as she trembles. “No... I... I thought those were just rumors. Whispers at parties that I refused to believe.”
“Rumors?” I echo with a strangled half-laugh. “Do these look like rumors to you?” I toss my jacket on the ground before grabbing the hem of my shirt and pulling it roughly over my head. As I turn to show her my back, I hear her gasp when she sees the thin scars that crisscross my skin like a roadmap of suffering. Some are faded white with age, barely visible unless you know where to look, others still pink and angry even after all these years—permanent reminders etched into my flesh of what “family” has truly meant.
“This is what happened to me in Italy, Daniela. I spent nights being beaten by the nuns for my sins and our brothers. I screamed for help, and no one came. The other girls didn’t care; they were just glad it wasn’t happening to them. This is what I endured while our precious brother fed you lies about my ‘vacation’ overseas.”
Daniela reaches out tentatively, her fingers hovering above the scars as she traces the pattern of my abuse. “I didn’t know,” she whispers, eyes wide with horror. “I swear, Lucrezia. I had no idea.”
I pull my shirt back on, the fabric hiding the physical reminders but not the memories. “Ignorance doesn’t absolve you of sin,” I say coldly, repeating words Mother Superior said to me on more than one occasion. “While you lived in comfort, eating Sunday dinners and sleeping safely in your bed, I was fighting to survive with no end in sight to my suffering.”
She sinks onto the cream-colored sofa, burying her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry,” she sobs, her shoulders shaking with each ragged breath. “I should have been there for you. I should have known something was wrong.”
The sight of her pain tugs at something deep within me, a remnant of sisterly affection I thought long dead, but I steel myself against it. I can’t afford to waver, not now, not after everything. “I didn’t come here for apologies,” I state firmly, squaring my shoulders. “I came because I need your help, and you owe me that much.”
Daniela looks up, eyes red-rimmed and glistening with tears. “Anything,” she whispers with desperate intensity. “Tell me what to do. Please.”
“I intend to dismantle Saverio’s empire,” I declare, each word dripping with venom. “Brick by brick, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left. I want him to feel every ounce of the pain he’s caused me. I want him to watch everything he’s built crumble to dust.”
Shock flashes across my older sister’s face, followed by a wave of disbelief. “You can’t be serious. He’s our brother.”
“He was our brother,” I correct, my voice as sharp as broken glass. “He forfeited that title when he betrayed me. Blood means nothing when it’s been poisoned.”
“Lucrezia, think about what you’re saying.” She stands, reaching out as if to reason with me. “This is our family. You can’t just destroy it all on a vendetta.”
I meet her gaze unflinchingly, my resolve hardening like steel in my chest. “Watch me.”
She shakes her head, desperation seeping into her voice. “There has to be another way. We can talk to Saverio and make him understand.”
“Understand what?” I snap. “That he condemned me to a life of suffering? That he turned a blind eye while I was abused? That he watched it all happen and did nothing? He doesn’t care, Daniela. He never has.”
“But what you’re planning—it’s dangerous. You’ll be putting yourself at risk,” she says, her voice trembling with barely contained fear.
“I’ve been at risk my entire life.” A hollow laugh escapes my throat. “I’m done being a victim, Dani. I’m done being the one who suffers in silence.”
She hesitates, uncertainty clouding her features as she takes a small step backward. “I don’t know if I can help you do this. It goes against everything we were taught.”
A bitter chill settles in my chest, spreading like frost through my veins. “Then you’re against me,” I say, each word falling between us like shards of ice.
“No, I just—” She wrings her hands, tears flowing freely down her pale cheeks. “I can’t betray Saverio. He’s been there for us, for all of us.”
“He’s the one who betrayed us,” I insist, my voice hardening like steel. “Do you think you’re safe? That he wouldn’t turn on you if you stepped out of line? You’ve seen how quickly his loyalty shifts when he feels like his reign is being threatened.”
“He wouldn’t,” Daniela whispers, but doubt is evident in the way her shoulders slump and her eyes dart away from mine. Her fingers twist together until the knuckles turn white.
“Are you willing to bet your life on that?” I challenge. “Because I’m not after what I’ve seen and what I’ve been through.”
Silence hangs between us like storm clouds before a downpour. The ticking clock on the wall seems to grow louder with each passing moment, each second stretching into an eternity as we stand locked in this moment of decision.
Finally, Daniela speaks, her voice small and wavering. “What do you need me to do?”
Relief washes over me, but I keep my expression neutral. “I need your connections and access,” I say, measuring each word. “You can get close to Saverio in ways I can’t. You move in circles that would set off alarm bells if I tried to enter them.”
She swallows hard, her throat working visibly against the collar of her blouse. “And then what?”
“Then we take Saverio down,” I reply simply.
Daniela closes her eyes, a single tear tracing a silvery path down her cheek in the dim light. “I can’t believe it’s come to this.”
“Neither can I,” I admit softly, fighting the urge to reach out and comfort her. “But this is the only way.” The words taste bitter, but they ring true.
She opens her eyes, resolve mingling with sorrow in her dark gaze. The transformation in her expression is subtle but unmistakable. “Okay. I’ll help you.”
I nod, acknowledging this small victory while trying not to show how much it means. “Thank you.”
“But promise me one thing,” she adds quickly, her hand shooting out to grab my wrist with surprising strength.
“What?”
“No innocent people get hurt. We do this with as little collateral damage as possible.” Daniela’s grip tightens, emphasizing each word with desperate intensity.
I consider her request carefully, weighing the implications. In truth, I have no reason to decline—minimizing casualties aligns with my preferences anyway. And if my ascent to her terms keeps her firmly on board with the plan, then it’s a promise I’m more than willing to make. “Agreed.”
She exhales shakily, relief flooding her features as the tension drains from her shoulders. “So, how do we start?”
I reach into my boot and pull out a small, ornate dagger—a twin of the one our mother gave to Daniela at Christmas a decade ago. The silver blade glints dangerously in the low light, and intricate designs of swirling vines etch along its surface, catching what little illumination there is.
“With a vow,” I say, meeting her gaze with unwavering intensity. “To seal our allegiance. The old way.”
Daniela’s eyes widen as she recognizes the dagger. “Is that...?”
“Yes.” I turn the blade with practiced ease, pressing the razor-sharp tip against my palm. Without hesitation, I drag it across the skin, feeling the sharp sting of metal parting flesh, followed by the familiar warmth of blood welling up in a crimson line.
She hesitates, glancing between me and the dagger, her fingers twitching at her sides. “Lucrezia, is this really necessary?” There’s a tremor in her voice that betrays her unease with the old practices.
“If we’re going to do this, we need to be bound by more than words,” I insist, my tone brooking no argument. “Blood speaks louder than promises whispered in the dark.”
After a moment, Daniela nods, determination settling over her features like a mask falling into place. The fear in her eyes hardens into resolve—she’s my sister again, the girl who laid beside me at night and dreamed of a better life. “Alright.”
I hand her the dagger, handle first. She mirrors my action with surprising steadiness, slicing a shallow cut across her palm. A hiss escapes her lips at the bite of steel, but she doesn’t flinch. The blood wells up, dark and gleaming, against her skin.
We clasp hands, our blood interlacing, warm and slick against our palms. The gesture feels ancient and powerful—a silent oath that can’t be broken, passed down through generations of those who sealed their fates together. My skin tingles where our blood meets, and for a moment, the rest of the world falls away until there is only us: two sisters bound by blood and promise, standing at the edge of something momentous.
“Together,” I affirm, squeezing her hand tight.
“Together,” Daniela echoes, her grip equally firm, sealing our pact in blood and shadow.
As we release our grip, I pull a handkerchief from my pocket and offer it to her. She presses it against her palm, eyes fixed on mine.
“What now?” she asks, dabbing at the small cut that still beads with crimson.
“Now we plan,” I reply, wrapping my own palm carefully. “We have a lot of work to do. More than either of us probably realizes.”
She nods slowly, a shadow of uncertainty crossing her face before determination takes its place. “You’ll stay here tonight? It’s already dark, and I don’t think either of us should be alone.”
I hesitate, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. I have nowhere to go, but I hadn’t planned to stay here. I could return to the Destroyers clubhouse; Priest would give me a place to stay, no questions asked. The thought of that musty couch in the back room isn’t particularly appealing, but it’s familiar territory. But then I see the plea in Daniela’s eyes, the need for reassurance that she’s not alone in whatever this is becoming. The vulnerability there makes my decision for me before I can overthink it. “Yes,” I concede. “I’ll stay.”
A small smile tugs at her lips, softening the worry lines around her eyes. “Good. It’s been too long since we’ve been under the same roof.”
I manage a faint smile in return, feeling the truth of her words settle in my chest. “It has.”
We settle onto the sofa, the worn cushions dipping beneath our weight. The silence between us is comfortable now, the earlier tension replaced by a shared purpose. The steady hum of the heating system provides a gentle backdrop to our reunion.
“Tell me everything,” she urges softly, turning to face me with her legs tucked beneath her. “I want to understand.”
“It’s a long story.” I rub my palms against my thighs, trying to figure out where to begin.
“We have all night,” Daniela assures me, reaching over to pat my knee. The familiar gesture makes my throat tighten unexpectedly.
I glance at my sister, seeing the earnest determination in her eyes. For the first time in a long while, I feel a flicker of genuine connection, like a bridge slowly rebuilding itself. “Alright,” I begin. “It all started the night Father decided I was more valuable as a bargaining chip than as his daughter...”
As the words flow, the walls I’ve built begin to crack, piece by piece. Daniela listens intently, her expressions shifting from horror to anger to sadness. And as the night wears on, I realize that maybe healing is possible.
But first, there must be revenge.