Chapter 18 Francesco
FRANCESCO
The letter arrives just after sunrise in a heavy parchment and crimson wax, the seal of the Elders pressed deep into its skin. No matter how many times I have received a letter from the Elders, I can never get used to the doom that comes with it.
I take the letter from the butler and head toward my father’s study without opening it. This letter isn’t addressed to me. It is addressed to the Romano family.
I inhale deeply to calm myself down, but I don’t feel better. The air in this house has been sour since Cassian’s body was cut down. A sickening dread looms above our heads, and I feel like this letter is the match that will set it all off.
I walk into the war room with the letter still intact in my hands after minutes of struggling not to crumple it in my fists.
My father is already pacing, his eyes burning with that old fire I’ve seen only when he wants to spill blood.
Marco is leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest, a dark glint appearing in his eyes the moment he sees me walk in.
My anger is still boiling over from our last argument.
Elio sits on the sofa, eerily calm as usual.
Our consigliere, Olga, looks as if she’s aged ten years overnight.
I toss the letter onto the table. It lands with a quiet thud, and my father snatches it off in the next second. He snaps the seal without any hesitation, and I watch his eyes narrow into angry slits as he reads. I watch his jaw tighten.
His fist comes down hard on the table. I assume he’s done reading. “Fucking disgrace!”
No one flinches at his outburst. Elio looks annoyed, like he would rather be doing something else than be here. Olga looks pale. Marco meets his eyes with that smug, unbothered look he wears when he knows he’s poking an angry beast with a stick.
Marco picks it up and reads it out when no one seems to want to.
In silence we rule. In blood we bind. In darkness we thrive.
To the House of Romano,
Whispers reach farther than footsteps.
The Council has been informed of recent disruptions within your household.
You are hereby summoned to appear before the Elders. The meeting will take place at the established location. Your full compliance is expected.
Internal disorder invites external consequences.
This is not a request.
—The Elders
“They can’t be fucking serious,” Marco curses out after he’s done.
“You think this house is a fucking circus?” my father lashes out at Marco on seeing the look on his face.
“You humiliate the family in front of guests who have direct lines with the Elders. You fight over a maid. A maid, Marco. How can you brawl and throw fists like you were raised in a fucking gutter?”
“You were the one who taught me to fight with my fists, said it was more honorable than using a gun sometimes,” Marco drawls, unaffected by my father’s anger.
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl at him. “This is a serious matter. Cassian is dead! His body was found in our house. Maybe you need to be reminded of the fucked-up situation we’re in right now.”
“Oh, I’m well aware—”
My father slams his hand on the table again, louder this time.
“Shut up, the both of you,” he fumes, raising the letter. “We have just been summoned to meet with the Elders, and you think this is a good time to argue?”
My body stiffens in anger and restraint.
“Look what she’s turned you both into…”
I grind my jaw so hard it hurts. The tension between Marco and me over Lia hasn’t gone unnoticed. I was naive to think the situation could stay hidden.
“She has nothing to do with this,” Marco says. “Stop blaming her for everything that goes wrong here. Maybe if you didn’t treat people like trash, your house wouldn’t reek of death.”
My father chuckles humorlessly. “She should have been killed. I should have killed her myself like I killed her traitor of a father instead of bringing her here,” he seethes, glaring between both of us like he can’t decide who to gut first. “You have no idea what your petty little obsession has cost us.”
Elio’s voice cuts in through the tension. “Cassian’s death wasn’t random, was it? He didn’t kill himself, and his body was found here for a reason.”
The room falls silent. No one has an answer to that yet. The mystery hangs in the air.
When my father speaks again, his voice is low with barely contained fury.
“There is no explanation as to why we are being summoned. You better pray this isn’t about your fucking egos.
If the Society thinks we made a mockery of them, or worse, for the murder of a descendant of a founding member, they won’t just demand discipline. They’ll demand blood.”
He storms out.
The room remains still for a few seconds. Then Marco looks at me with a murderous glare and walks out without another word.
No one speaks throughout the drive to the chapel.
The streets are quiet, but there’s something almost unnatural about the stillness, like the city itself is holding its breath.
La Mano Nera’s ancestral estate is hidden beneath an old chapel at the edge of town. From the outside, it looks abandoned—ivy crawling over the stone like veins. But inside… inside is where the real power sits.
We descend into the underground hall in silence, our boots echoing against cold stone. Black candles line the aisle, flickering against the high arched walls. Their flames don’t flicker. The heat is suffocating.
The air shifts the moment we step into the meeting room. Six masked figures sit around a circular stone table.
Not a word is spoken until we kneel.
No one speaks until Lux Tertius speaks. His voice is like dead leaves, dry and rustling.
“The Elders of La Mano Nera acknowledge the presence of House Romano.”
A pause. No one breathes.
“You are summoned not as equals, but as those who must account for failure. There is disorder in your house.”
My father bows his head. “We’ve taken measures to contain it.”
“We are not interested in efforts. We require results. Containment is not correction.”
Lux Tertius leans forward, just slightly. His fingers tap the stone table in a slow, deliberate rhythm—like a countdown only he can hear. When he speaks, his voice is smooth, almost elegant, but laced with something emotionless beneath it.
They don’t distort their voices this time—we’re here in real time—but the acoustics of the chamber warp the sound just enough to keep you guessing. Familiar, maybe. But distant. And almost inhuman.
“Our sources report emotional fractures within your house. Public ones. Disgraceful ones that are enough to turn whispers into weapons against us.”
He pauses, letting the words rot in the silence.
“You’ve allowed emotion to fester where there should be silence. Obedience has been replaced by spectacle. We expected better from a family of our founding blood, one with a seat among this very Council. You were meant to set the standard. Not become the example.”
The scorn is unmistakable. They’re not here to warn us. They’re here to deliver judgment and remind us how replaceable we are under their rule.
Then Sangius Quartus speaks, his voice softer but laced with contempt. I stiffen as it reaches my ears.
“A fight between brothers, in public, over a servant girl.”
No one at the ceremony knew the history behind the scene at the ceremony. No one, except someone who has been watching us for a very long time, could put the pieces together.
“We don’t tolerate such weaknesses,” Nero Primo continues. “We don’t tolerate disobedience and tainted unions.”
My heart hammers within my chest. If my union with Silvia is seen as tainted, there will be a big problem.
A fourth Elder, Umbra Quintus, speaks up. “Your house bled in front of the world. We don’t tolerate fragility.”
Nero Primo lifts something from the table. “And now, this.”
He lets it drop with a flick of his fingers.
“She is with child.”
The floor tilts beneath me. Everything spins.
Pregnant? Lia is pregnant?
I let out a shaky exhale, my heart hammering against my chest. She’s pregnant with my child, our child. The realization knocks the breath out of me.
This can’t be happening. No—this is bad. So fucking bad. I can’t breathe.
My hands curl into fists as I struggle to remain in the room, nails digging into my palms just to keep me grounded. But my heart—my whole goddamn soul—is already with Lia. I have to be with her. She could be in danger! Fuck.
“Pregnant?” I hear my father choke.
Marco doesn’t say a word. But I hear it, his sharp inhale, the way his hands scrape against the stone floor and curl into fists. He didn’t know.
No one knew, so how did the Elders find out?
Blood rushes through my ears. Truly, no information gets past them. But there’s something they don’t know. Yet.
They don’t know who the father is.
“You allowed a servant to carry the seed of your blood.”
My father finds his voice again. “We were not aware of the pregnancy.”
Nero Primo says coldly, “You are aware now.”
There’s a long, stifling pause.
“Do you deny that one of your blood is responsible?” they ask.
No one answers. My heartbeat pounds behind my eyes. Of course, one of us is responsible. They just don’t know who.
If I speak… Lia will get sentenced faster. There’s a chance I can still save her if the Elders don’t know the whole truth yet.
“Cassian’s death was not by our order,” Sangius Quartus speaks when the room remains silent. “We would not waste a seer unless necessary. Someone else ended him, probably to silence him.”
Dante nods. “We suspected as much.”
“We are already investigating it,” says Nero Primo. “You are not to interfere.”
“And the girl,” Umbra Quintus speaks up, “we want her dead before the end of the week.”
The words settle like poison on my skin.
No. It can’t be. I won’t let that happen.
“It will be done,” my father says with his head bowed low.
I bite back a scoff, bite back everything I have to say.
“You are dismissed.”
We don’t spare any more seconds in the room. I rush out, my body burning with several emotions at once.
Outside, the night air is cool, but I still find it impossible to breathe.
My father storms to the car ahead of us. He hasn’t said a word since we came outside. Elio walks quietly behind my father. I hear Marco’s footsteps crunching against the ground behind me.
“You selfish bastard,” he spits.
Grinding my jaw until it hurts, I turn to face him. “If you want to get into a fistfight, at least wait until we’re out of the chapel premises.”
“You got her pregnant,” he hisses, ignoring my statement. “You put her life in danger.”
Guilt knocks into me, ramming violently against my chest.
“You put her in this mess, all because you couldn’t keep your hands to your fiancée.”
“Keep your fucking voice low and your mouth shut,” I snap, pulling him beside me. “You’re going to put her in an even worse mess if you keep running your mouth.”
He rips free from my hold. “I’m going to fix this.”
“She’ll die if you do anything foolish. You heard them.”
“No. You’re just too scared to do anything.”
“I’m scared to lose her, you piece of shit,” I hiss under my breath.
As we get closer to the car, he looks at me like he’s seeing something he hates. I recognize another look in his eyes, the look of defiance, of stubborn anger, of pride.
As he gets into the car and slams the door, I realize he’s going to do anything to change the tides to his favor.
And I already know I’m not going to like it.