Chapter 28
I can’t stop my fingers from reaching to twist my mother's ring, feeling the smooth metal slide against my skin as I consider Damiano's question. The weight of it hangs in the air between us.
"Leonardo is..." I pause, searching for words that could possibly explain the complexity of my brother. "He's not what you think."
Alessio's thumb traces circles on my palm, grounding me. The sensation helps clear my thoughts.
"My brother has spent his entire life trying to become what our father wanted," I say carefully. "After our mother died it got worse. He threw himself into the family business, desperate for approval."
Damiano watches me with those calculating eyes, assessing every word.
"But Leonardo has lines he wouldn't cross," I continue, conviction growing in my voice. "He believes in family honor, in protection. If he knew what our father and Raymond were doing he wouldn't just walk away. He'd put a bullet in my father's head himself."
Enzo raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "He's Antonio's right hand."
"He's Antonio's son," I counter. "There's a difference. My father grooms him but doesn't trust him with everything. That's why there's a particular safe Leonardo's never seen opened. Me neither."
I lean forward, meeting Damiano's gaze directly. "My brother protected me my entire life. He stood between me and our father's anger more times than I can count."
The memory of Leonardo's face—younger, softer—flashes in my mind. Before mother's death hardened him.
"When I left for London he made sure I had access to money our father couldn't track," I continue. "He wanted me to have the freedom he never had."
Alessio's hand tightens around mine. "But you didn't tell him about the trafficking."
I shake my head. "I couldn't risk it. Not because I don't trust him but because I do. Leonardo would have confronted our father directly and Antonio would have killed him for it."
My voice cracks a little on the last words. The thought of losing Leonardo—the brother who once carried me on his shoulders, who taught me to play chess, who slipped chocolate under my pillow when I was sad—is unbearable.
"If Leonardo knew the truth," I say with absolute certainty, "he wouldn't stand with our father. Not for a second."
Damiano tilts his head, considering my words. His fingers tap rhythmically against the polished table.
"That's all very touching," he says, cool and measured. "But how exactly do you plan to get Leonardo to access this safe if he doesn't know what he's dealing with?"
"Leonardo will have to trust me," I say, meeting Damiano's gaze. "Just like I'll have to trust him."
Alessio shifts beside me, his body tensing. I can feel his concern without looking at him.
"And if he doesn't?" Damiano presses. "If his loyalty to Antonio proves stronger than his love for you?"
The question cuts deep, touching the fear I've been trying to ignore. I take a steadying breath.
"I don't know," I admit. "I can't be certain he'll agree.
Leonardo has spent years becoming our father's perfect heir.
But I also know my brother. If I can get him alone, make him listen.
.." My voice trails off as I picture Leonardo's face—how it's hardened over the years, how the innocence has been carved away by our father's expectations.
"Look," I continue with more confidence, "I'm not even sure what we'll find in that safe. It might not contain the evidence we need. But right now we need to take the shot."
I lean forward, my palms flat against the table. "Raymond's files are too heavily encrypted and my father isn't stupid enough not to keep hard copies. That safe is our best chance at finding something concrete—something that ties them both directly to the trafficking operation."
Damiano studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Opposite him, at the far end of the table, Enzo watches with slitted eyes, clearly unconvinced.
"It's a risk," I acknowledge. "But sometimes you have to gamble when the stakes are this high."
I hold my breath as Damiano considers my words, his expression impossible to read. The dining room falls silent except for the gentle clink of ice in his whiskey glass as he swirls it thoughtfully.
"For now," Damiano finally says, cutting through the atmosphere, "no one knows you're with us, Melania."
Relief floods through me though I'm careful not to show it.
"None of the men who attacked you either of the two times is alive," he continues, setting his glass down with exactitude. "Well, almost none. One remains in a coma at Mercy General. Heavily guarded."
My pulse quickens. "A coma?"
Damiano nods. "Brain trauma. Doctors aren't optimistic about recovery."
"That gives us an advantage." Alessio says.
Damiano's mouth pinches. "I don't typically work like this—hiding, skulking in shadows. It's not our way." He looks directly at me. "The easiest thing would be to kill them both. Antonio, Raymond. One night, two bullets. Problem solved."
I feel Alessio stiffen beside me but Damiano continues before either of us can speak.
"But killing a monster makes it too easy. Death is quick. Over." His eyes darken. "What I want is for them to face what they've done. To feel even a fraction of the pain they've caused others before they die."
The room falls silent again. I understand his meaning perfectly. A bullet is mercy compared to what these men deserve.
"Which man?" I ask suddenly, my voice sounding stronger than I feel. "Which one is in the coma?"
"It was a man from the gas station," he says finally, answering my question without me having to clarify. "We don't have his name yet, or whether he was the one you shot."
My breath catches. How did he know exactly what I was asking? I glance around the table, noticing the subtle ways these men communicate—a lifted eyebrow, a slight nod, a shift in posture.
"You all do that, don't you?" I say, looking between Damiano and Alessio. "Sense what others are thinking."
"It's not mind-reading, piccola . Just experience." Alessio says.
Damiano leans back in his chair, relaxing just a little. "I understand how difficult this has been for you, Melania. Taking a life isn't easy, especially the first time."
"But," he continues, his voice hardening again, "these men were paid to kill you both. They made that choice when they took the money. They would have pulled the trigger without hesitation."
I shake my head, my fingers working faster around my mother's ring.
"It doesn't matter if they were paid or not.
I don't want to be that person—someone who takes lives.
" The memory of the man falling, the shock in his eyes as blood bloomed across his shirt, flashes across my vision. "I don't want to become like them."
I watch Melania's fingers twist her mother's ring, the movement growing more frantic as she speaks about killing that piece of shit at the gas station.
Her face pales and I can see her starting to spiral out.
This isn't helping her—dragging that memory back into the light when she'd finally managed to tuck it away.
I place my hand over Melania's, stilling the anxious movement of her fingers. Her skin feels chilled.
"Melania," I say, my voice directed at only her although the others can still hear. "That's enough about the gas station. It's done."
She looks up at me, relief flickering across her features.
"What we need to focus on now is Leonardo," I continue, steering us back to what matters. "How do you think we can reach him? Your father will have him watched, especially now."
Melania takes a deep breath, visibly gathering herself. When she speaks again she appears steadier.
"Leonardo has a routine," she says, her analytical mind already working through the problem. "Every Tuesday morning, he goes to the gym at 54th and Madison. It's exclusive—only three members allowed at a time. He always books the 5 a.m. slot."
"Early riser," Enzo comments.
"He says it clears his head before the day begins," Melania explains. "It's the one place he goes alone. No security, no assistants. Just him."
"That's tomorrow," I note, already calculating what we'll need.
Melania nods. "He's religious about it. Even when our mother died, he was back at the gym the following Tuesday. Says structure keeps him sane."
"It's a start," Damiano says. "But approaching him in public is risky."
"The gym has a private entrance in the back," Melania counters. "Members only. And the locker room has no cameras—Leonardo made sure of that when he joined."
I rub my thumb across her knuckles, feeling a surge of pride at her quick thinking. "You've thought this through."
"I know my brother," she says simply. "If we can get to him there he'll at least listen."
"And if he doesn't?" Enzo asks, always the pragmatist.
Melania meets his gaze without flinching. "Then we keep pulling evidence through the USB. Leonardo won't betray me even if he doesn't help us."
Going after Leonardo is a risk but we need those files from Antonio's safe—if he has them.
"I'll go tomorrow," I say, my decision made. "I'll pay someone at the gym—a good amount—to let me in like I'm just another client, there for an early session."
Damiano nods but Melania's brow furrows with concern.
"Leonardo will recognize you," she says, twisting at her mother's ring anxiously. "He knows who you are, what you do for the Ferettis."
"That's the point," I reply. "If he sees a stranger approaching, his guard goes up immediately. With me, he'll know exactly what's happening. No surprises."
Enzo leans forward. "And if he decides to call daddy dearest?"
"Then we'll be ready," I say, my voice toughening. "We're prepared for war if it comes to that."
Melania shakes her head. "Let me call him first. I can?—"
"No," I cut her off. "We can't risk a call being traced. Your father will have Leonardo's phone monitored."
Her fingers still on the ring as an idea forms. I see it in her eyes before she speaks.
"What if you call me?" Melania suggests. "When you're face-to-face with Leonardo, then hand the phone to him. Let me talk to him directly. He'll listen to me."
I consider this. It's not perfect but it might work. Leonardo's loyalty to his sister could outweigh his duty to Antonio.
"It's not the best plan," I admit, "but it could work. One way or another we need to stick with something. Either Leonardo helps us get what we need from Antonio's safe, or we use what we have and prepare for the consequences."
"You're not going alone," Damiano says, his tone making it clear this isn't up for debate. "We need to hear everything that happens with Leonardo."
I raise an eyebrow. "You planning to join me for an early morning workout?"
"No." Damiano leans forward, hands clasped on the table. "You'll wear a wire. We need to hear the conversation in real time, be able to guide you if things go south."
I nod, knowing he's right. Leonardo is a wild card—trained by Antonio but with his own moral code, according to Melania. Having backup listening in gives us an edge.
"Fine. Wire me up."
Damiano looks between Melania and me, then at Enzo who is way too silent.
"We're done for tonight," he says, pushing back from the table looking at me. "Everyone needs rest. We're starting early tomorrow and I need clear heads. I will inform Noah and Matteo that they’ll be coming with you tomorrow."
Damiano turns to Melania, his expression softer. "Melania, I want you to understand something."
She straightens, her shoulders tensing as if preparing for a blow.
"As long as you're with Alessio," Damiano continues, "everyone in this house will protect you. You're under our roof now, which means you're family."
The surprise flickers across her face before she can mask it. I feel a surge of something possessive and warm as Damiano acknowledges what she means to me—what we mean to each other.
"Thank you," she says simply, but I can hear the weight of her gratitude.
Damiano nods once, then stands. "Get some sleep. Both of you."
Tomorrow will be dangerous—approaching Leonardo could either give us the breakthrough we need or blow everything to hell.