Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Bruno
Liam's name flashes on the screen.
"Talk," I answer.
"We lost him."
The words don't register at first. "What?"
"Eraldo Romano. He's gone." Liam's voice is clipped, professional, but I hear the tension underneath. "Threw away both phones we gave him. Ditched his security detail at the hotel. Surveillance footage shows him leaving through a service entrance six hours ago."
My hand tightens around the phone. "Six hours?"
"The detail didn't report it immediately. They thought he was sleeping. By the time they checked—"
"He was already gone."
"Yes."
I end the call without another word.
The wheelchair feels like a cage as I move through the dark hallways toward Pietro's office. My arms burn from the exertion, but I push harder. Faster. The pain is nothing compared to the fury building in my chest.
I should have seen this coming.
Eraldo Romano is a gambling addict. A coward. A man who sold his own daughter to pay his debts. Of course he would run. Of course he would find a way to disappear the moment the pressure became too much.
And I missed it.
Pietro's office door is already open when I arrive. He's standing behind his desk, phone pressed to his ear, face grim. Valentino leans against the wall, arms crossed. Nico sits in one of the leather chairs, tablet in hand, scrolling through something.
Pietro ends his call when he sees me. "You heard."
"Liam just told me."
"We're working on tracking him. Nico's pulling financial records, credit card activity—"
"He won't use credit cards." My voice comes out harsh. "He's not stupid. Desperate, but not stupid. He'll find cash games. Underground. The kind that don't ask questions."
Pietro nods slowly. "We have contacts in those circles. We'll find him."
"We should have found him before he ran." I wheel myself further into the room, stopping near the desk. "I should have seen this coming. The signs were there. A gambling addict with access to credit, sent to a city full of temptation, with minimal supervision—"
"No one saw this coming," Pietro says. "Not you. Not Liam. Not any of us."
"That's not good enough."
"Bruno—"
"You put me in charge of this." The words rip out of me, louder than I intended. "You gave me the Romano situation as a test. To prove I could handle responsibility. To prove I was ready to lead." I slam my palm against the armrest of my wheelchair. "And I failed. Again."
Pietro's expression doesn't change. "One setback doesn't mean—"
"One setback?" I laugh, and it sounds ugly even to my own ears. "I want to lead this family, but I can't even keep track of one pathetic gambler. I can't walk. I can't—"
"Bruno." Pietro's voice sharpens. "That's enough."
"Is it?" I wheel closer to him, close enough to see the exhaustion in his eyes, the weight he carries. "You keep testing me. Keep waiting for me to prove myself. But every test, I fail. Every chance you give me, I fuck up. Maybe Nico was right. Maybe I'm not ready. Maybe I'll never be ready."
"Don't put words in my mouth," Nico says from his chair, not looking up from his tablet.
"I'm not. You said it yourself. At the first meeting. You said I'd lead us all to our deaths."
Pietro steps around the desk, positioning himself between us. "This isn't productive. We need to focus on finding Eraldo, not—"
"Not what?" I snap at him. "Not acknowledging that your crippled brother can't handle the simplest fucking task you give him?"
"Bruno—"
"You should have given this to Nico. Or Valentino. Anyone but me."
Pietro's jaw tightens. "I gave it to you because you're capable. Because you need to remember that you're still—"
"Still what? Still a Sartori? Still useful?
" I'm shouting now, and I can't stop. "I'm in a fucking wheelchair, Pietro.
I can't chase down a runaway gambler. I can't intimidate anyone who isn't already afraid of our name.
I can't do anything except sit here and watch while everyone else cleans up my messes. "
"That's not true."
"It is true. You know it. Everyone in this room knows it. You keep giving me tests I can't pass because you feel guilty. Because you took my position while I was in a coma, and now you don't know how to tell me I'll never get it back."
The silence that follows is deafening.
Pietro's face has gone pale. Valentino pushes off the wall, his expression unreadable. And Nico—
Nico stands.
He crosses the room, stopping directly in front of my wheelchair. Close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
"Shut the fuck up," he says.
"Nico—" Valentino starts.
"No." Nico doesn't look away from me. His voice is quiet, controlled, but there's something dangerous underneath. "I've listened to this self-pitying bullshit for two years. I'm done."
"Get out of my face."
"Or what? You'll hit me?" Nico leans closer. "Go ahead. Prove me right. Prove that you're still the same angry, reckless asshole who cares more about his wounded pride than his family."
My hands curl into fists. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know exactly what I'm talking about." Nico's eyes bore into mine.
"I thought Antonella was helping you. I thought maybe—finally—you were starting to pull your head out of your ass.
But I was wrong, wasn't I? You're still the same.
Still obsessed with the title. Still convinced that being Don is the only thing that matters. "
"It's not about the title—"
"Bullshit." Nico cuts me off. "It's always been about the title.
About proving you're still the man you were before the shooting.
About getting back what you lost." He shakes his head slowly.
"You don't want to lead this family, Bruno.
You want to prove you're not broken. And those aren't the same thing. "
The rage builds in my chest, hot and suffocating. I want to hit him. Want to grab him by the throat and squeeze until he can't speak. Until he takes back every word.
"Nico." Valentino's voice is sharp. "Stand back."
Nico holds my gaze for another long moment. Then he steps away, returning to his chair like nothing happened.
I don't move.
Can't move.
Because somewhere underneath the fury, underneath the desperate need to prove him wrong, I hear the truth in his words.
And I hate him for it.
Antonella
I shouldn't be here.
The thought crosses my mind as I stand in the hallway outside Pietro's office, frozen in place. The door is open. Voices carry through—loud, angry, raw.
Bruno's voice. And Nico's.
I came because I heard shouting. Because something in Bruno's tone made my chest tight with worry. Because even after everything, even after the lies about my father and the push-and-pull that leaves me dizzy, I can't stop myself from caring.
"You don't want to lead this family, Bruno." Nico's voice cuts through the air like a blade. "You want to prove you're not broken. And those aren't the same thing."
I press my back against the wall, heart pounding. I shouldn't be listening. This is family business. Sartori business. I'm an outsider here, no matter what happened between Bruno and me in his bedroom.
But I can't move.
Silence stretches from inside the office. Heavy. Suffocating.
Then the sound of wheels on hardwood.
I push off the wall, but it's too late. Bruno appears in the doorway, his face carved from stone. His knuckles are white where they grip the armrests of his wheelchair.
Our eyes meet.
For one heartbeat, I see everything—the rage, the shame, the devastation. All of it laid bare in his dark gaze.
Then he looks away.
His chin drops. His shoulders curve inward. And he wheels past me without a word, disappearing down the hallway like I'm not even there.
"Bruno—"
He doesn't stop. Doesn't turn. The sound of his wheelchair fades into the darkness of the compound.
I stand there, staring after him, my throat tight.
Then I turn toward the office.
Pietro stands behind his desk, one hand pressed to his forehead. Valentino leans against the wall, arms crossed, expression grim. And Nico sits in a leather chair, tablet in his lap, scrolling through something like he didn't just tear Bruno apart with his words.
I step inside.
"What the hell happened?"
Nico's head snaps up. His dark eyes narrow. "What the hell did you just ask?"
"You heard me." I move closer, my hands curling into fists at my sides. "What happened? Why was Bruno—"
"This doesn't concern you." Nico's voice is flat. Dismissive. "Go back to your room."
"No."
The word comes out stronger than I expected. Nico's eyebrows rise slightly.
"Excuse me?"
"I said no." I stop in front of his chair, close enough to see the flicker of surprise in his expression. "I'm not going anywhere until someone tells me what just happened."
"Watch your mouth." Nico's tone drops, dangerous. "You're speaking to—"
"I know exactly who I'm speaking to." My heart pounds against my ribs, but I don't back down.
Nico's jaw tightens. "No, you don’t."
"Then explain it to me." I take another step closer. "Explain why you just said those things to Bruno. Explain why he left here looking like you'd put a knife in his chest."
"Antonella." Pietro's voice comes from behind me, tired and strained. "This isn't the time—"
"When is the time?" I spin to face him. "When he's completely destroyed? When he's pushed everyone so far away that no one can reach him anymore?"
Pietro's expression flickers. Something like guilt crosses his features before he masks it.
I turn back to Nico.
"You think I don't see what's happening here?" My voice shakes, but I don't care. "You think I don't understand?"
"You've been here a few weeks." Nico's words are cold. Precise. "You don't understand anything."
"I understand that no one is actually helping him."
The words hang in the air between us.
Nico goes still.
"Yes, he's difficult." I press on, the anger building in my chest. "Yes, he pushes people away. Yes, he's angry and bitter and impossible to deal with. But do you know why?"
"Enlighten me." Nico's tone drips with sarcasm.
"Because he's in pain." I step closer, close enough to see the muscle jumping in his jaw. "Because every single person in this house knew him before. Knew him when he could walk. Knew him when he was the golden boy, the perfect brother."
Nico's eyes narrow. "And?"
"And now he can't stand it." My voice cracks, but I keep going.
"He can't stand that you all look at him and see what he used to be.
He can't stand that he's become a problem to be managed instead of a brother to be supported.
He can't stand that every time he fails, every time he falls short, he's proving everyone right. "
"You don't know—"
"I know what it looks like when someone is drowning.
" The words come out fierce. Raw. "I know what it looks like when someone is so desperate to prove they're still worth something that they'll destroy themselves trying.
I've watched it happen before. With my father.
With my family. And I'm watching it happen again with Bruno. "
Nico stands.
He's taller than me. Broader. His presence fills the space between us, intimidating and cold.
"You weren't here." His voice is quiet now.
Dangerous. "You weren't here for the past eighteen months.
You didn't watch him wake up from that coma.
You didn't see him realize he couldn't move his legs.
You didn't hear him screaming in the middle of the night, or watch him refuse to eat for days, or find him staring at his gun like he was deciding whether to use it. "
My breath catches.
"You don't know what we've been through." Nico's eyes bore into mine. "You don't know what this family has sacrificed to keep him alive. So don't stand there and lecture me about helping him. Don't pretend you understand something you've only seen the surface of."
"Nico." Valentino's voice cuts through the tension. "That's enough."
Nico ignores him. His gaze stays locked on mine.
"Get out of this office." The words are soft. Final. "Now."