Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Bruno
The dining room hasn't been this full since before Riccardo died.
I stand at the doorway, leaning on the cane Valentino insisted I use around family. My legs ache from the walk down the corridor, but it's a good ache. The kind that reminds me I'm alive. That I can feel.
The good thing has always been that at some point I felt the pain.
Aria sits at the head of the table, her silver hair perfectly styled. Carmela, Valentino's mother, sits beside her, the two sisters whispering about something that makes them both smile. Giulia moves between the kitchen and dining room, directing the staff.
Pietro and Nora occupy the seats to Aria's right. Nora's pregnancy is showing now, a gentle curve beneath her dress.
Lorenzo and Sophia sit across from them. Sophia's head rests on Lorenzo's shoulder, her eyes half-closed. She's been tired lately. Lorenzo mentioned something about her not sleeping well, though he didn't elaborate.
Nico and Kristen arrived an hour ago with Lily, who immediately demanded to sit next to me. The child is currently perched on a stack of cushions, chattering to anyone who will listen about a butterfly she saw in the garden.
Vittoria and Dmitri flew in from New York this morning. My sister looks happy. Genuinely happy. The shadows that used to haunt her eyes have faded since she married the Russian. Dmitri watches her with the kind of devotion that used to make me uncomfortable. Now I understand it.
Dante stands near the window, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He catches my eye and nods once. We don't need words. He knows what I did to Castellano. He helped.
Valentino emerges from the kitchen with a bottle of wine, his mother immediately scolding him for not letting the staff handle it. He ignores her.
And Antonella.
She sits in the chair beside mine. The bruises on her face have faded to yellow-green shadows. Her left hand is bandaged where they cut off her ring. I had a new one made. Bigger. Better.
She looks up as I approach. Smiles.
"You're staring," she says.
"I'm admiring."
"Same thing."
I lower myself into the chair beside her, setting the cane against the table.
Pietro stands. The room falls silent.
"Thank you all for coming," he says. His voice carries the authority of a Don, even though he's about to give up the title. "I know it's been a difficult few weeks. But we're here tonight to celebrate."
Aria raises her glass. "To family."
"To family," everyone echoes.
Pietro waits for the toast to finish before continuing. "Three weeks ago, the Castellanos took something precious from us. They thought they could use Bruno's wife as leverage. They thought wrong."
I feel Antonella's hand find mine under the table. Her fingers intertwine with mine, squeezing gently.
"Bruno coordinated the response," Pietro continues. "Every detail. Every man. Every move. The Castellanos are no longer a threat to this family or any other. Their Don is dead. Their organization is scattered."
He doesn't mention the five days I spent with Marco Castellano in the basement of Lorenzo's restaurant. Doesn't mention the screams that echoed off the concrete walls, or the way I took him apart piece by piece for what his men did to my wife.
Antonella doesn't know. She doesn't need to know.
"Not a single one of our men was injured," Pietro adds. "Liam's contact inside the Castellano organization provided crucial intelligence. The operation was flawless."
Liam, standing near the door, inclines his head slightly. His face remains impassive, but I catch the ghost of satisfaction in his eyes.
"Which brings me to why I've gathered everyone here tonight." Pietro looks at me. "Bruno."
I meet his gaze. Hold it.
"You asked me months ago if you could have the Don position back," Pietro says. "I told you to prove yourself. To show me you were ready."
The room is silent.
"You've done more than prove yourself." Pietro's voice softens. "You've shown me what I always knew but was too afraid to admit. This family needs you. Not the man you were before the shooting. The man you are now."
He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small velvet box. Sets it on the table in front of me.
I know what's inside without opening it. Our father's ring. The Don's ring. The one Riccardo wore until the day he died. The one Pietro has worn for the past two years.
"I'm stepping down," Pietro announces. "Effective immediately. Bruno will assume leadership of the Sartori family."
Aria makes a small sound. When I look at her, tears are streaming down her face. But she's smiling.
"About time," she says.
Valentino laughs. Carmela swats his arm, but she's smiling too.
I stare at the box. At the ring inside. At everything I've wanted for two years, finally within reach.
Antonella squeezes my hand.
"Open it," she whispers.
I do.
The ring gleams in the candlelight. Heavy. Gold. Engraved with the Sartori crest. I remember watching my father wear it when I was a boy. Remember the weight of it on Riccardo's hand when he became Don.
Now it's mine.
I slide it onto my finger. It fits perfectly.
"Speech," Lorenzo calls out. Sophia elbows him, but he's grinning.
I stand. My legs hold. The pain is there, constant and familiar, but I don't reach for the cane.
I stand.
Everyone watches me. My brothers. My sister. My mother. The women who married into this family and made it stronger. The men who serve us. The child who climbs into my lap without fear.
And Antonella. Always Antonella.
"I'm not good at this," I say. "Speeches. Words. Feelings."
Valentino snorts. "We noticed."
"Shut up." But there's no heat in it. "I'm trying."
The room waits.
I look at Pietro first. My brother. The man who held this family together when I couldn't. When I wouldn't.
"Pietro." My voice comes out rougher than I intended. "I owe you an apology. You took a position you never wanted because I was too broken to hold it. You carried this family for two years while I sat in my room and hated everyone. Including you. Especially you."
Pietro's jaw tightens. He doesn't look away.
"I resented you for being Don," I continue. "For sitting in the chair I was supposed to sit in. For making decisions I was supposed to make. I told myself you stole something from me. But you didn't steal anything. You saved it. You kept it safe until I was ready to take it back."
I swallow. The words taste like ash and blood and something that might be gratitude.
"Thank you. For not giving up on me. For not letting me destroy everything our father built."
Pietro nods once. His eyes are bright. He doesn't speak.
I turn to Lorenzo. My brother who I betrayed. Who I lied to for years about Riccardo and Luna.
"Lorenzo. I kept secrets that weren't mine to keep.
I told myself I was protecting the family.
Protecting you. But I was protecting myself.
I was a coward. You had every right to hate me," I say.
"You still do. But you came to the restaurant that night.
You helped plan the assault on the Castellanos.
You stood with me when you could have walked away. "
"You're my brother," Lorenzo says quietly. "That doesn't change."
"It should have." I shake my head. "But I'm grateful it didn't."
Nico is next. The brother who told me the truth when no one else would. Who called me out on my bullshit and didn't flinch when I threatened to kill him.
"Nico." I meet his eyes. "You were right. About everything. I didn't want to lead this family. I wanted to prove I wasn't broken. Those aren't the same thing. You saw that when I couldn't."
Nico's expression doesn't change.
"You're still an asshole," he says.
"I know."
"Good." He raises his glass. "Don."
I turn to Vittoria. My baby sister. The one I pushed away hardest because looking at her reminded me of who I used to be.
"Vittoria." My voice cracks. I don't try to hide it. "You visited me every week. Even when I screamed at you. Even when I threw things. Even when I told you I wished you'd stop coming."
Vittoria's eyes fill with tears. Dmitri's arm tightens around her shoulders.
"I didn't deserve your loyalty," I say. "I didn't deserve any of you. But you kept showing up. You kept believing I was still in there somewhere. Under all the anger and the bitterness and the self-pity."
"You were," she whispers. "You always were."
"I'm sorry." The words feel inadequate. They are inadequate. "For every cruel thing I said. For every time I made you cry. For being the worst brother in the world when you needed me to be better."
Vittoria stands. Crosses the room. Wraps her arms around me.
I hold her. My little sister. The girl who used to follow me around the compound asking endless questions.
"I love you," she says against my chest.
"I love you too." The words come easier than I expected. "Even when I acted like I didn't."
She pulls back. Wipes her eyes. Returns to her seat.
I look at my mother. The woman who raised six children in this world of blood and violence. Who buried a husband and a son and still found the strength to keep going.
"Mamma. I'm sorry for the pain I caused you. For making you watch your son disappear into bitterness. For not being the man Papa raised me to be."
Aria's hand presses against her heart. Tears stream down her face.
"You are exactly the man your father raised you to be," she says. "You just forgot for a while."
I nod. I can't speak. The lump in my throat is too large.
Finally, I turn to Antonella.
"Antonella." Her name is a prayer. A promise. "You saved me."
She shakes her head. "You saved yourself."
"No." I reach for her hand. Pull her to her feet beside me. "I was drowning. I had been drowning for two years. And then you showed up and you refused to let me drown anymore."
Her eyes shine. Her fingers intertwine with mine.
I stop. Look at my family. At the people who have stood by me through the worst years of my life.
"Antonella is pregnant."
Silence. Not everyone knew it.
Then Aria screams.