Chapter 29 Matteo
MATTEO
Daniele sits across from me in the office—tall, sharp-jawed, already twice the man I was at his age.
He’s a week into his capo training, and he’s been doing well for the most part. He has that grit in him, but he’ll need to unlock a more savage version if he truly wants to survive in this world.
And he will.
I’m about to go over tomorrow’s agenda when my phone buzzes on the desk. I look down at a number I don’t recognize, but I answer it anyway.
“Yes?”
“Is this Mr. Davacalli?” a male voice asks on the other end.
I sit up a little straighter in my leather seat. “Yes. Who is this?”
“My name is Dr. Walter. I’m an emergency medicine physician at Grace Memorial. I’m calling regarding your wife.”
My blood instantly runs cold. “What happened?”
Danny straightens, his shoulders going rigid with tension.
“Your wife was involved in an incident,” the doctor continues. “A car bomb detonated just outside the Kingsley Spa. She, along with a friend, were the only two in close proximity at the time. We’re unsure of how—”
“Is my wife alive?” I’m already on my feet and rounding the desk. Daniele’s eyes go wide; fear floods his features.
“Tell me.”
“She is alive, sir. She sustained only minor injuries—thanks to her friend.”
Everything else dissolves into static.
I blink, looking from my son to the door and back again.
She’s alive. She’s okay.
I repeat the words in my head like a prayer, clinging to them, using them to hold myself together.
“Papa, che?” my son asks, his voice tight. (Father, what?)
I blink again, swallow hard, pushing down the raw emotions plunging into my chest. They press against my ribcage, demanding to be released, but I hold steady.
I can’t afford to unravel.
“I will be there shortly,” I tell the doctor, then hang up.
We are under siege.
“I need to get you out of here, Danny.” I’m already texting one of the guards on his detail. “You’ll go with Enzo to the cabin until I say it’s time to come home. I need the estate and the penthouse checked first.”
“What happened?” he presses. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me. Is Mom okay?”
I nod. “There was a car bombing, but she’s okay. From what the doctor said, she only has minor injuries—thanks to Valerio. But I think he’s really hurt. I need to go and check on both of them.”
“I’m coming too.”
I shake my head. “No. It’s too risky. I need you somewhere safe. Enzo will take you to the cabin. Not many know about it, and you’ll be protected there.”
He rises from his chair, staring me dead in the eyes. “No. I’m coming with you. She’s your wife, but she’s my mother. I need to see if she’s okay—uncle Valerio too.”
I shake my head again. “You are my heir. My only heir. And if they’ve come after your mother, they will come after you.”
“They? Who the hell is ‘they?’”
I pause, hesitating for a second or two. “Our enemies. They lurk in the shadows, my boy, and if we aren’t careful, they’ll try to topple everything we’ve built. And you, my son—you’re my future, the future of this syndicate. I can’t have you exposed right now.”
He steps toward me. “So you want me to hide while my mother lies in a hospital bed? No. Fuck that. The first lesson you ever taught me as a child was to stand strong as a man. Not to run at the sight of a fight but to dig my heels into the soil and face the barrel of the gun.”
I should be proud he’s carried that lesson all these years. But now is not the time for him to play hero.
"I said you go with Enzo. That’s not up for discussion. Until I know there are no bullets flying, you stay out of sight.”
He remembers who I am. And that this isn’t a fight he wins. Smart boy.
“I’ll go with Enzo. But I need updates. Every hour. Don’t keep me in the dark. And call me when you’re with her. I need to hear her voice.”
“Of course.” I pull him into a hug—hard, fast. He stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away. “I love you, my boy.”
I let go and he nods just as the door opens and Enzo walks in. Danny gives me one more lingering look before he walks out.
I don’t waste time. I head to the car with several of my guards and we make our way to the hospital. We break every traffic law on the books just to get there in half the time it should take.
The elevator doors barely finish opening before I’m storming into the emergency room.
“Beatrice Davacalli—where is she?” I demand as I reach the reception desk. “Where is my wife?”
My voice echoes through the four walls of the ER. Every pair of eyes turns toward me, but I couldn’t care less. The woman behind the desk looks petrified, so I ask again—this time with even more fury behind it.
“Boss…”
I turn my head and spot Valerio by the door of a nearby room.
He’s leaning against the glass, a thick bandage wrapped around his head, already dark and soaked through.
His face is pale, jaw bruised, a split lip crusted with dried blood.
Fresh cuts line his knuckles like he went a few rounds with hell and lost, and his once-crisp shirt hangs open and torn at the edges.
Jesus.
I walk over and grip his arms to help him stand upright, but he refuses my aid, waving me off.
“No, don’t…” he breathes heavily. “I can stand. Your wife is over there; they have her under observation, but she’s fine.”
He lifts a shaky hand and points to the room opposite his. I give him one last look before heading across the circular area. I’ll deal with him after.
I barge into the room, pushing past the curtain. She’s propped up in a hospital bed with IVs in her arm. Bruises bloom across her porcelain skin. Cuts and scratches mark her face. But she’s breathing. She’s conscious.
She’s alive.
“Beatrice,” I whisper, crossing to her side.
Her eyes lift to mine, and whatever wall she was holding crumbles instantly. Tears fill her eyes, her lip trembling with the effort to hold them back.
“Matteo,” she chokes out. “You’re here…”
“Of course I’m here, amore.” I cup her face, feeling her skin beneath my palms just to make sure she’s real—here—alive. “You scared the shit out of me.”
I press my lips to hers. When I pull away, tears are brimming in her eyes.
I sit beside her and take her hand in mine, kissing every single one of her knuckles. “Are you okay?”
She nods, biting down on her lip. “I’m okay… thanks to Valerio. Where is he?”
“He’s a little banged up, but he’ll be fine. I’m more concerned about you. What happened, amore?”
“I don’t know. One minute I’m getting into the car and the next…” Her breath shakes. “A car a few feet away exploded.”
Fuck. Rage claws through me, but now isn’t the time. Right now, she is all that matters.
“For a second I thought…” She swallows hard, her throat tight. “Tell me the truth, Matteo. Tell me now. He is back, right? After all these years—he’s come back.”
I don’t speak at first. I won’t lie to her. But I don’t want to drown her in the truth either. Her life is the one in danger. She deserves to know everything.
“Tell me,” she presses again, voice cracking.
“He is back in New York, yes. But we are—”
“Oh God,” she cries, the sound tearing from her chest. “H–how? I thought—oh my God. Daniele. Our son. He’ll try to get to our son, Matteo. Where is he?”
She grips her chest, fingers curling over the diamond necklace she never takes off.
“Shh, my love.” I kiss her hands and hold them against my heart. “He’s safe. I promise you. I sent him to the cabin; he’s with Enzo, one of my most trusted men. He’s okay. But he’s worried about you.”
She nods rapidly, nostrils flaring as she tries to catch her breath. “He’s safe?”
I nod. “He’s safe.”
“And… and we are safe?”
Another nod. I kiss each knuckle again, offering her whatever comfort I can.
“Yes, we are safe, amore. But I need you to breathe, okay? Getting yourself worked up won’t help you.”
She leans back into the bed, her breathing steadier now, though fear still flickers in her eyes.
After a few quiet seconds, she turns her head toward me.
“We can never let Daniele find out,” she says, the plea tearing out of her.
“Please. He believes you’re his father—because you are.
You raised him from his first breath to this moment.
He is your son, Matteo. Not his.” Her voice fractures.
“If Giacomo ever gets close to him, he’ll twist him into something dark. I won’t let that happen. I can’t.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “And he won’t.”
She grabs my wrist with both hands, gripping hard enough to hurt, desperation lending her strength. “Promise me he’ll never know. Not now. Not ever. Swear it.”
I lean in, press my lips to her forehead, breathe her in like an oath.
“I swear it,” I say against her skin. “On my life.”
She stills. Because she knows what that means.
My word is not a comfort. It is a vow.
And I never break it.
She stays in the hospital overnight while the doctors run their final checks and keep her under observation.
I don’t leave. I sit beside her bed, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, listening to the quiet machines hum, counting every breath until morning comes.
By dawn, I’ve already given the orders.
The penthouse has been swept top to bottom. The estate is being reinforced—new cameras, additional guards, tighter rotations.
We’re clear—for now.
When they finally discharge her, I’m the one who brings the car around. I help her into my arms before she can even think to protest.
She tries anyway—weak, stubborn—but her arms slide around my neck, her head settling against my shoulder like it belongs there. For a moment, I let myself believe the world isn’t on fire. I breathe her in. I let the fear loosen its grip, just enough to survive the drive home.
By the time we reach the house, everything is locked down.
Daniele is already there.
He rises from the couch the second he sees us. He’s been home since early morning—waiting.
“Mom.”
He crosses the room fast—controlled, but barely. I set her down, and she opens her arms to him immediately.