Chapter 16 Francesco
FRANCESCO
Ididn’t sleep a wink last night. I haven’t slept well for two nights now.
Cassian’s words won’t stop playing in my head. That strange smile on his face at the engagement dinner. The way Lia looked—hollowed out and shaken—as she rushed away from the mess he caused.
I haven’t seen her since.
A part of me wants to reach out to her, to look for her, and talk to her.
The other part of me knows it’s a bad idea.
Since I am practically married now, there are some things I cannot be seen doing.
Silvia told me she sees how I look at Lia.
Does everyone else see it too? I know Marco already does.
If I keep following what my body and soul want and that alone, I’ll get everyone involved in danger.
So for the past two days, I’ve dreamed of doing the one thing my position does not grant me the liberty to do.
Be with her.
Not in a sexual way, not in the different ways my body wants to get to know hers. Not hidden in the shadows with our moans bouncing off the walls. Not in short, flickering moments that are never enough for me.
I just want to be, with her. I want to hold her in my arms for hours, do the simple things with her. Talk. Yeah, we don’t do that often. The only time we talk is when we are arguing about something. When she’s telling me how much she hates me and how much pain my family has caused her.
How much pain I have caused her.
I want to hug her, comfort her, and be her strength. Something broke in me when I saw her run away that night. I watched helplessly, with my bride by my side.
But since I can’t do any of these things, all I’ve done so far is think about her, think about Cassian’s words to her that night, and smoke.
I’ve been smoking way more often; even Silvia revealed she never knew I was a smoker. And the way she said it, it seems I’ve added another thing to her list of why she would never marry me if she had the freedom to choose.
A knock rattles my office door. I frown. No one is allowed to come to my office door this early in the morning. I only come here early in the day when I don’t want to be distracted, and all the house helps know that.
“Come in,” I call out.
The door opens, and a maid peeks her head in.
I sit up the moment I see the look of pure terror in her eyes.
“Sir, you need to come. There’s… something in the east wing…”
I’m already standing up before she finishes her sentence. She steps out of the way as I march toward the door.
“Take me.”
She doesn’t say a word as she scurries down the hallway, with my steady steps hot on her heels. My heart pounds in my chest as we take the stairs down from the private wing.
We round the corner into the long gallery that faces the east staircase, and that’s when I find almost all the staff gathered at a spot.
The first thing my subconscious does is to look for her. I don’t find her, and that’s when I notice that everyone’s eyes are tilted upward.
The moment I look up, the breath leaves my lungs.
Cassian.
Hanging from the grand chandelier.
His arms are limp at his sides. His neck is bent at an angle that’s too clean, too neat, too perfect. His all-knowing smile is frozen on his lifeless face.
More servants pour into the room. I hear a terrified gasp.
Another person whispers a prayer. The crowd parts as I step through the circle, ignoring the eyes staring at me and the murmurs floating in the air.
Every step feels like I’m walking through water.
I reach the center and look up at what I already know I’ll never unsee.
His body looks fresh, like he was alive mere minutes ago. There’s no sign of a fight or struggle on his face.
This was not suicide.
That leaves a bigger question. Who did this?
I turn to look at the guard nearest to me. His face is pale, almost green.
“Get a ladder,” I order.
It takes minutes. Long, almost painful minutes until the ladder arrives and is positioned close to the body. When I climb up, all I can hear is the creaking of the chandelier as the body slightly sways back and forth and the blood pounding in my ears.
I take a blade from my pocket, flick it open, and slice through the rope holding his body. The cord gives way with a harsh snap.
Cassian’s body plummets like a sack of bones and lands with a sickening plop against the stone tiles.
The chandelier creaks, swinging faster at the freedom from the dead weight hanging onto it.
A sharp, collective yelp echoes through the room as everyone jerks back from the body. A woman lets out a sob.
His head lolls grotesquely to the side, eyes closed, lips still curled in that frozen smile that makes my stomach turn.
I descend slowly from the ladder and kneel beside the corpse. Something peeks out from his coat pocket. I reach in, ignoring the twitch in my fingers, and take it out. It’s a folded note, small and tucked in there precisely.
I slip it into my jacket without reading it.
“Take this away,” I mutter to no one in particular. “Now.”
The guards step forward and bundle the body up while I walk away from the scene, my thoughts roaring in my head.
Cassian was a seer. He saw something, something he wasn’t supposed to see. He revealed what he saw to Lia on the night of my engagement ceremony. And now he’s dead.
I don’t believe in coincidences.
Later that night, I sit alone in my private study. Firelight flickers across the walls. My hands tremble as I unfold the note.
‘Two families forged peace with blood, then buried the bodies beneath silver vows. But secrets don’t stay buried forever. One has already spoken. How many more will follow?’
I read it twice, then a third time. My hands are steady, but my heart isn’t. This is clearly a warning. A whisper meant to rattle the bones of those who know what really happened.
Cassian knew.
He knew about the secret between the Romanos and Morettis. He knew the secret we’ve kept for years, using my marriage as a means to hide the assassination our ancestors committed.
Someone killed him for finding out.
My heart rattles against my ribcage. It can’t be…
No. If La Mano Nera had truly uncovered the old betrayal, Cassian wouldn’t be the only person killed. There would be a lot more dead bodies, especially ours. They might be displeased at the news of how he caused chaos at the ceremony, but killing him because of that is too shallow for them.
So who killed Cassian? Who silenced the seer before he could speak again?
I glance at the note again, at the secret that could destroy our world if it got into the wrong hands. I toss it into the flames, watch it curl and blacken until the words vanish with a hiss.
Cassian didn’t kill himself. That much is obvious. He was already dead when they strung him up and left his body for me to find.
And whoever did it—Society or not—wanted a message delivered.
The door slams open.
Marco walks in, his strides easy, but I can tell something is simmering beneath his calm facade.
“I heard what happened,” he says, walking toward me. “Cassian. Dead. In our house.”
I wait for him to get to the point.
“Was it the Society?”
“I don’t think so.”
Marco laughs bitterly. “Of course you don’t. You don’t think anymore. Not when it comes to Lia.”
I stiffen. “What are you talking about?”
“You think I didn’t see you?” he growls, stepping closer. “Following her at your own engagement party. Whatever the hell happened to the smart brother I used to know? What if someone saw you?”
“Is that why you’ve been parading her around for the whole household to see?” I shoot back, annoyed. “You’re claiming her for the public to see.”
“I am.”
“You shouldn’t be,” I seethe through clenched teeth. “Rosalia is out of bounds for you just as much as she is for me.”
“At least you’re aware she’s out of bounds for you,” he chuckles to himself.
I rise from the chair slowly. “She’s not yours, Marco.”
“And she sure as hell isn’t yours either.”
My voice drops, quieter and more dangerous. “This is not the time to play smart with me. Cassian had a confrontation with her, and now he’s dead. From my observation, the next person in line is you if you’re not careful.”
Marco scoffs. “Are you so jealous of us hanging out together now that you’re threatening me with… death?”
I grind my jaws together. “That was not a threat. It was a warning. You think you don’t have as much responsibility as I do because you’re not engaged to a woman? Think again. You can never be with a woman whose existence is powerful enough to break this family apart.”
Marco’s eyes darken as he steps closer.
“No. You are the one who should stay away from her, Francesco. You’re engaged, and your union with Silvia is a delicate thread that holds our family’s secrets together. Focus on your relationship with Silvia instead of watching what I do.”
I take a threatening step toward him until we are face-to-face. “You don’t give me orders.”
“No,” he says, tilting his head to the side, “but if you drag her down with you, if your obsession gets her killed—”
My hand curls into a fist. “Don’t.”
His voice drops to a near whisper. “I’ll bury you myself. Now, that is a threat.”
We stare at each other in the dim firelight, two halves of a cracking mirror. I’ve never seen Marco this angry, this honest, this… dark.
Then he turns and walks out, slamming the door behind him. I sit down again and stare at the fire until my vision blurs.
A wildfire is starting to spread, and someone needs to put a stop to it before it destroys us all.