Chapter 5 Julian #2
"Killing him brings federal heat we can't handle," Sandro countered. "Watson will know we're responsible. She'll come after us harder."
"Then what do we do?" Matteo asked. "Wait for her to build her case and destroy us all?"
"We neutralize the threat without starting a war." Sandro looked at each of them. "Suggestions?"
"We go after Watson," Elio said from behind me. "She's the real threat. Winston's just a source. Without her, the case falls apart."
"Federal agents can't just disappear," Luca said. "Too many people watching. Too much oversight."
They talked strategy. Debated approaches. Analyzed risks.
I sat there watching and realized this was my fault. My information had created this crisis. Had put all of them in danger.
If I'd just kept my head down. Just married Dante like my father wanted. Just accepted my fate—
No.
That was victim thinking. The kind of thinking that had kept me trapped for years.
I'd made the right choice. The only choice I could live with.
And maybe I could help fix the problem I'd created.
I waited for a pause in the conversation. Then spoke up before I could lose my courage.
"My father has a weakness."
Four sets of eyes turned to me. Intense. Focused. Dangerous.
I forced myself to continue.
"He's obsessed with legacy and power. His reputation is everything to him. If you destroy that—if you make him untouchable, unreliable, someone nobody can trust—you destroy him. Nobody will work with a man nobody trusts. Not Watson. Not the other families. Not his own associates."
Silence.
Then Sandro leaned forward.
"Explain."
"My father's entire operation depends on perception.
On being seen as powerful, connected, reliable.
If you expose his deal with Watson—if you prove he's been selling out other families to federal agents—everyone will turn on him.
The families he's betrayed will want revenge.
Watson will lose her source. The Bianchis will be isolated. Vulnerable."
"That's a strategy," Matteo said slowly. "Destroy his credibility instead of killing him."
"Exactly. He'll be alive but powerless. Worse than dead, from his perspective. And you won't have federal agents investigating a murder."
Luca smiled. "I like it. It's elegant. Vicious. Uses his own tools against him."
"It's risky," Elio said. "If we expose the Winston-Watson connection, we're also exposing ourselves as having this information. Winston will know Julian gave it to us."
"He'll know anyway," I said quietly. "Once it gets out that I’ve been here for weeks, sheltered by you."
Sandro studied me. "You understand this makes you a permanent target? Your father will never forgive this betrayal. Your family will consider you an enemy. You'll spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder."
"I know."
"And you're okay with that?"
I thought about Dante's hands on me. My father's cold indifference. The cage I'd been living in since I was fourteen.
"Yes. I'm okay with that."
Sandro nodded slowly. "Then we use Julian's strategy. We'll need to be careful about execution—one mistake and this backfires spectacularly. But it's the best option we have."
The meeting continued. Details. Logistics. Timing.
I sat there and tried to process what I'd just done.
I'd given them a strategy. Contributed to their war against my father. Actively participated in destroying the man who'd raised me.
I should feel guilty. Conflicted. Something other than this strange calm certainty.
But I didn't.
After the meeting ended, Sandro and Luca left to start making calls. Matteo followed, mentioning something about updating Stefan.
That left me alone with Elio in the conference room.
He moved from his position by the wall to sit in the chair next to mine. Close enough that our shoulders almost touched.
"You just crossed a line you can't uncross," he said quietly.
"I know."
"Your father will find out you helped us. When he does—"
"I know." I looked at him. "I'm not stupid, Elio. I understand exactly what I just did. And I'd do it again."
"Why?"
"Because for the first time in my life, I'm making choices that are mine. Not my father's. Not Dante's. Mine." I paused. "Because you treated me like I was capable of real damage. And I wanted to prove you right."
Something shifted in Elio's expression. Softened.
"You did. Sandro was impressed. So was I."
"Really?"
"Really. That strategy—destroying Winston's reputation instead of killing him—it's smart. Sophisticated. The kind of thinking we need." He hesitated. Then: "You're not just useful, Julian. You're valuable. There's a difference."
My chest tightened. "What's the difference?"
"Useful is temporary. Valuable is permanent." His eyes held mine. "You're permanent now. Part of this. Part of us. Whether that's what you wanted or not."
"It is. What I wanted." The admission came out quiet. Honest. "I know it's insane. I've been here two weeks. I barely know any of you. But this feels more like home than my family ever did."
"That's because we see you. Your family only saw what they wanted you to be."
"You see me," I corrected softly. "The others are still deciding if I'm trustworthy. But you—you've seen me from the beginning. Even when you were trying not to."
Elio's breath caught. Almost imperceptible. But I noticed.
I noticed everything about him.
"Julian—"
"I know. We can't. Too young, too vulnerable, power dynamics, all the very good reasons this is a terrible idea." I stood. Put distance between us before I could do something stupid. "But I wanted you to know anyway. That I see you too. That whatever's happening here—it matters. To me."
I left before he could respond. Before I could watch him shut down again. Before I could see the control slam back into place.
Back in my room, I sat on the bed and stared at the wall.
I'd betrayed my father. Given the Vitales everything they needed to destroy him. Made myself a permanent enemy of my family.
And I'd confessed—again—to having feelings for someone completely inappropriate.
Two weeks ago I'd been a sheltered mafia prince planning an escape.
Now I was a traitor to my family and falling for my protector.
I should be terrified.
Instead I felt alive. Real. Like I was finally living my own life instead of performing a role someone else had written.