Chapter 36
FRANCESCO
The abandoned observatory sits forgotten on the cliffside, above the sea churning below.
It’s been decommissioned for years—scrapped for funding, gutted of most of its telescopes and equipment.
Now only the skeleton remains. A domed roof now half-collapsed, some cracks in the glass walls and windows, and a few abandoned telescopes scattered across the room.
But the foundation is solid, as it has been for many years.
But I didn’t pick this place for any of that. I chose it because it is a discreet location, with no cameras or prying eyes. It is perfect.
But more than privacy, I needed leverage. I needed to face them without witnesses—unshielded, unguarded—so they’d know I came not in fear, but with clear purpose. Maybe I can end this without spilling more blood.
If not, then this meeting becomes something else entirely.
A declaration of war.
I stand in the upper gallery, my back facing the broken wall of windows, where the sea crashes in the distance. From this height, the world looks far away. Small. And for once, I feel bigger than everything. I feel like I have everything figured out.
It took my contacts days to track the real identity of each Elder from each family. For days, I studied their faces through the few grainy pictures I could access.
And then I sent out the anonymous letters to each of their addresses, cloaked in false urgency and not-so-thinly-veiled threats. They all agreed to meet me here. They have no idea it’s me. I am the snitch, and I am about to bring them to their knees.
Anticipation with a mix of nerves works its way up my spine.
I adjust the cuffs of my charcoal suit, catching my reflection in the window beside me.
I was deliberate with everything, down to how I look.
Not too sharp to be threatening. Not too casual to appear naive.
I need them to believe I’m here to help them.
A loud crash of thunder splits the air. The storm has been circling all day, darkening the clouds and sending harsh winds that send a cold chill up my spine.
My attention zones outside when I spot a distant flash of light.
Below, headlights slash through the darkness.
Three black cars crawl up the winding gravel path like serpents.
I watch from the glass windows as they arrive, each vehicle climbing the twisted road from a different direction, arriving at the entrance of the observatory.
Ermanno Vescovi emerges from the first car, his thin frame upright despite age. His silver hair is combed back, and a slim black cane glints in his hand. He’s slower than I imagined, but his eyes are sharp, darting across the compound in quiet suspicion.
Alfonso Altieri is next, stepping out with a limp exaggerated by his weight. Gold rings gleam on every finger. He dabs sweat from his forehead despite the cold, and glances at his watch with a scowl. Arrogant. Overdressed. Like he believes money can shield him from anything.
And finally, Giulio Salvatore. The only one who doesn’t hesitate in his steps.
He steps out of his car and shuts the door without looking back, as if nothing in the world could surprise him.
Every movement he makes is controlled. I watch him light a cigarette and take in the ruined building with barely veiled contempt.
They enter separately, not seeing each other at first, but the moment they cross toward the entrance of the observatory, they spot each other and freeze.
I watch it unfold.
Ermanno Vescovi’s brow tightens as he sees Giulio walking toward him, then twists into a look of cold calculation when he spots Alfonso.
None of them expected to be called by the same person, and certainly not together. For a moment, they just stand there under the brewing storm, frozen by the absurdity.
A smirk pulls at the corner of my lips.
This is what I made sure of.
Each letter was tailored to their sins, hinting that someone knew their crimes. That someone had evidence. That someone might talk.
They were all lured here by the same thing.
Fear.
And now they’re trapped in it.
I watch them speak briefly outside in hushed tones as their confused faces dart around. And then they enter through the large, open doors.
That is when I descend.
Slowly, I come down from the gallery, timing my steps and letting the echo of my footsteps announce my presence.
The observatory’s interior smells like old metal and forgotten paper.
The walls are lined with collapsed bookshelves and the shattered remnants of old instruments.
The chairs are arranged with military precision, one for each of them and a single one for me across from the three.
They turn when they see me. Three pairs of eyes, full of confusion, recognition, and something close to contempt.
“Romano,” Giulio Salvatore says first. His voice is rasping, aged like sandpaper dragged across glass. “Is this a joke?”
Alfonso Altieri chuckles dryly, adjusting the lapel of his cashmere coat. “I assumed this was urgent Society business. And instead, I find myself beckoned by a mere boy.”
Ermanno Vescovi just narrows his eyes. “Why did you drag us out here?”
I bow my head a little. “I appreciate you coming,” I say, my voice low. “I know it’s unusual. I just… I didn’t know who else to turn to.”
They don’t buy my pretense. Not completely. But they don’t walk out either. That means they’re still afraid. Good.
“Did you send anonymous letters to each of us?” Ermanno says coldly. “They read like threats.”
“I would never threaten the Society Elders,” I say calmly, circling the edge of the room. “What you received was a message from someone who knows things best kept buried—someone offering you a choice.”
Giulio narrows his eyes. “So, where is this man? Let’s not waste time.”
I smile. “He’s standing right in front of you.”
Alfonso chuckles humorlessly. His rings glint dully in the dim light as he points his fingers at me. “You’ve made a grave mistake, calling the three of us like this without proper cause. You had access to our names and identities, it seems. That alone is a crime.”
“I know that,” I answer. “But I also know what each of you has done. If you’re thinking of killing me to cover this up…
don’t. I’ve made sure I won’t be the only one holding the knife.
My allies know everything. And if I don’t walk out of here alive, every shred of proof I’ve collected goes public.
You know how fast that fire will spread. ”
A slow, loaded silence fills the space between us.
I take a seat on the empty chair across from them. I remain silent for a while, the only sound in the air being the harsh hum of wind coming in through shattered beams.
Alfonso barks a laugh. “You think you can scare us, boy?”
“You forget who we are,” Giulio says, stepping closer. “We are the spine of this Society. You’re just a spoiled heir with a chip on your shoulder.”
“He’s probably in his rebellious phase,” Ermanno chuckles.
“Then why did you come immediately when I called you?” I ask.
They all fall quiet.
I motion to the chairs. “Sit. Or don’t. Either way, you’ll listen to what I have to say.”
Eventually, they do sit. Reluctantly. One by one. Ermanno first, his movements slow and careful. Alfonso second, huffing and puffing under his breath. Giulio is last, the coldness on his face never leaving.
Seated before me, they look like regular old men. Rich and influential, undeniably, but powerless.
I set a black leather folder on the table between us and flip it open.
Three separate stacks. Three names.
Ermanno, Alfonso, Giulio.
I watch their faces closely as I begin.
“To Elder Ermanno Vescovi. The rigged election in Sicily. The overdose of your rival was staged in a luxury hotel. The Society money used to fund outside allegiances, breaking our rules of purity and secrecy.”
I slide the documents forward. It contains bank statements, fake identities, flight logs, and photos.
Ermanno’s fingers twitch, but he doesn’t move to take the document. He says nothing.
“To Elder Alfonso Altieri. The women you impregnated across the country, then silenced and destroyed afterward. The sixteen-year-old girl who had your child, whom you forced into marriage with another man. Your children who were never registered. The doctor you paid to erase birth records. This is a bloodline violation that places your entire family at risk of extinction.”
Alfonso’s face blanches. “You’re bluffing—”
“I have the names and the DNA results. I have testimonies from witnesses. Secrets like this cannot remain buried forever.”
His throat bobs up and down as he snatches the document off the table and goes through it.
“That brings me to you.” I turn to face Giulio Salvatore.
“You forged an execution letter and used the Society seal to carry out a personal vendetta. You murdered the doctor who treated your underage victims. You eliminated anyone who knew about the young girls trafficked through your underground network.”
“You’re out of your mind,” Giulio hisses. “You’re accusing us of treason, murder, bloodline desecration—”
“I’m not accusing,” I interrupt coldly. “I’m merely confirming what I already know.”
The folder remains open on the table between us like a wound.
“You’re smart,” I continue. “You covered your tracks well. You bought silence for years. But that’s the problem with secrets. You can keep paying to keep them hidden, but the truth always gets revealed eventually.”
They all begin to shift in their seats. Not one of them looks at the others. No eye contact or communication. Only fear and guilt buried under their pride.
“Why are you doing all this?” Ermanno finally asks.
“Justice.”
Alfonso snorts, unconvinced. He leans forward, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Come on… What is it you really want?” he asks, voice smooth like oil over rot. “A district of your own to rule? A council seat in the shadows? We can give you things even your father never dared to touch. Money five generations after you will never be able to finish.”
Giulio’s voice cuts in. “You want your own house of girls to do any of your darkest desires? Or maybe access to the Vatican files we stole before the Concordat?” He smirks, flicking ash from his cigarette. “We know how to reward loyalty.”
Ermanno taps his cane once on the ground. “Men like you don’t come bearing threats unless they’re after more than money,” he says, voice like steel.
“So say it, Romano. Say what it is you truly want.”
I bark out a harsh laugh at the insult.
“I’m not here for your power. I’m not here for favors, girls, or kingdoms. Nor am I here for your dirty money. I have more than enough of that.”
“Then what?” Giulio snaps. “You want a seat at the table? That’s not how it works.”
“I don’t want your fucking seat,” I say. “I want to set the table on fire.”
A long silence follows. My words hang in the air like smoke as they all stare at me, trying to decipher my intentions.
“You think these little secrets you have are enough to destroy us?” Giulio says. “The Society would never believe it. Our records, our influence—”
“You’re right. This, alone, isn’t enough.”
“I called this meeting,” I continue, “because I’ve realized something. The Society is rotting. You’ve hidden behind masks for too long. You’ve taken advantage of your position to inflict terror on innocent, helpless people without ever showing your faces.”
I lean forward slightly, my voice steady. “That ends tonight. Abolish the marriage rule. And give up your seats.”
Ermanno’s voice is a whisper. “This is never going to happen.”
“Wrong answer.”
“You’re crossing a dangerous line, boy,” Giulio growls. “You think a few threats and blackmail give you the upper hand? You’re still just a child playing at politics.”
I offer a faint smile. “I already told you—I didn’t bring you here for money. Or power.”
I let the words hang in the air. Let the tension pull tight.
“I brought you here to remind you of what the Society once stood for—before corruption hollowed it out. To confront you with the cost of your sins—and offer one last way out. And to strike down a rule that’s enslaved generations—robbing them of choice, silencing their will, and binding them to a future they never asked for.
“You accept my terms… or face the consequences of your deeds.”
Alfonso’s lip curls. “And what punishment do you think you can deliver, boy?” he spits.
I stand to my feet.
The dim lights flickering on the walls throw my shadow long across the floor. My voice is quiet and calm, but it cuts through the air like a blade.
“I’ve only read about it,” I say. “An ancient judgment, older than any of your seats at the table. A ritual reserved for moments when the integrity of the Society is in question. When its leaders are accused, not by enemies… but by one of its own.”
The temperature in the room shifts.
I see it in their eyes. Recognition. Fear.
“No one’s dared invoke it in decades. No one’s had the spine.”
I let a slow smile pull at my lips as their faces shift.
“But you know exactly what it means. You fear it. Because once it’s spoken, it can’t be buried. Not by the Elders. Not by the Bloodline. Not by anyone.”
I pause—let the silence stretch like a blade.
It drags every secret into the light—every lie, every sin. And it forces the Society to choose: preserve its integrity… or eradicate the rot.
Ermanno speaks, his voice hoarse. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I meet his gaze and smirk.
“I call for it.”
Three sharp inhales.
“I call for Antico Giudizio.”
Their reactions are immediate.
“You little—” Alfonso shoots to his feet, knocking his chair back. But before he lunges at me, Giulio holds him back.
Ermanno grips his cane tighter. Giulio’s face remains unreadable, but his jaw tightens.
“You don’t know what you’re invoking,” Ermanno says. “You’re just a boy—”
“I am the heir of the Romano line,” I cut in. “And by the old rules, that gives me the right. I have a valid cause. I have proof. And I’m not afraid to die for it.”
Silence befalls the room again.
“You have limited time to get ready. What you do next decides everything.”
Then the storm outside breaks open. Lightning flashes through the ruined dome as a heavy downpour befalls the earth.
I don’t wait for their response. I turn my back on them and walk into the storm I’ve summoned.