Caterina
I’m parentless. Orphaned. Can a grown woman be an orphan?
I don’t know. I’m just so…alone. When my mother died, my father assumed both roles. We never spoke of it, but he did.
How can one man serve as both Ricci the crime boss and the loving “replacement” mother to an introverted little girl whose favorite pastimes were solo activities like reading, art, and swimming?
Most men would’ve fallen short or not even attempted to get through to that child. They would have left the house manager and kitchen staff to raise her.
Not Eduardo Ricci.
He taught himself how to braid my hair. Granted, he only attempted this feat once, as it was a complete disaster that resulted in two very tired rubber bands getting cut out of my curls. Nonetheless, he’d put in the effort.
My father always had my back.
He also taught me how to play chess. I hated it, so we moved on to puzzles. Neither of us liked those, but it took us an entire year to admit the truth to each other. By that point, our bond had blossomed.
Nino was always welcome to join, but he had sports and music and didn’t enjoy sitting still in any capacity. My brother could barely survive dinnertime.
I remember my dad attending my first swim meet, the only parent wearing a designer suit in an eighty-degree room with ninety percent humidity.
He was present for my high school graduation.
He helped me set up my dorm room that following fall when I went away for college to swim competitively.
Father insisted I have a normal life for as long as I could.
So, I tried it his way for nine whole months, until my last rotator cuff injury. Despite how things ended, the experience did what he claimed, changing my life and giving me a purpose beyond family. Nino never had that.
I already miss my father so much…
By the time my swollen eyes finally close, dawn started creeping in. The crying renders them tender and raw, but I fight sleep until light breaks through my window. I don’t want to nod off only to wake up in a world where my father no longer exists.
Four hours later, I wake in the universe I can’t fathom.
For about three seconds, a heavy fog clouds my mind, blocking out everything. Then grief crashes over me as last night returns in a rush.
As much as I want to, I can’t lie in bed for the rest of the day and cry.
I’m the oldest child, after all. The house is my responsibility.
Outside my room, I pass an enforcer I’ve never met before. I don’t need to hear him speak to know he’s Russian. All of Belinski’s enforcers seem to have a certain kind of scowl built into their DNA.
My skin prickles all the way down the grand staircase as I make my way into the kitchen.
Nino holds a coffee in one hand and his phone in the other as he leans against the granite counter. He’s still in his clothes from the gala. No jacket, just the button-down and dress slacks. If he hasn’t changed, then he hasn’t slept.
“Can I fix you something to eat?”
“Marlene already asked me. I’m good.” He finishes his coffee and pours himself another.
I grab a mug and pour myself a cup too. “How are you?” I touch his hand.
A mistake.
He recoils, grimacing. “How do you think I am?”
I try not to flinch from his tone. “Me too.” I clutch my coffee with both hands to keep from reaching out again and blow on the steaming liquid. “Do you think—”
“Oleg and some of his men are going to be living here until we solve this crime.”
I nearly drop my mug. “What? Nino, why—”
“Don’t start with me, Cat.” He slams his mug down, the ceramic clattering on the countertop. “Connor Gallagher killed our father, stole the Bonasera diamond, and now he’s escaped!” He crowds me in his efforts to grab a nearly empty bottle of vodka.
He reeks of B.O. I hold my breath to keep from retching. I want to ask if he’s sure it was Connor, but I’d give myself away, and I don’t want a replay of my slip at the gala.
What I still don’t understand is why my brother keeps insisting that Connor’s the killer. Yes, Connor’s guilty of theft, but he’s an easy scapegoat. Nino should know better.
As he takes a swig straight from the bottle, I remind myself that he hasn’t slept or eaten and rarely drinks. He’s not thinking clearly, so I need to give him grace.
He lost his only remaining parent too. I’ve always been his big sister, a second mother, and now, I can’t even hug him.
If I can’t comfort my little brother, the only immediate family I have left in the world, who am I? How will we survive this if not together?
With emotions running high, we shouldn’t be making rash decisions. But I can’t tell him to slow down and reconsider inviting the Russians into our home.
He’s upset and lashing out, and now’s not the time to question his leadership.
I know this is all connected. Blaming Connor and bringing in the Russians feels too easy, too clean.
I’m just failing to comprehend the endgame. And Belinski isn’t here to help solve any kind of crime. He’s here to burn bridges beside my brother, who’s become a Roguilin pawn.
Not knowing how to console or control Nino, I decide I can at least be useful somewhere else in the house. “I’m going to help Marlene with the funeral preparations.” I struggle to smile as I head toward the door. “And then I’ll call Father’s lawyer, so he can set up…a meeting.”
“The executor of his will is MIA. if that’s where you’re going with this. And so is the amended will. So that shit’s on hold.” Nino scoffs while pouring two shots’ worth of vodka into his coffee.
Is that what the phone call in the middle of the night was all about?
I sip my own coffee. “Well, hopefully it turns up soon, but until then, we’ll just go on as we always have. Right?”
Nino grunts. “If you go anywhere today, one of Oleg’s guys can drive you.”
I frown. “I have my own car. And Danny.”
“This is war, Cat. You understand me? You shouldn’t be taking any chances.”
I nod before excusing myself, dread weighing in my gut like an anchor.
After that tense exchange, I try to lose myself in some work, but focusing proves difficult.
With my father gone, my own house no longer feels familiar. I should be taking charge to make him proud, but with Nino at the helm of our Russian invasion, I’m background music.
I can’t stop thinking about that last conversation I shared with Father about our family’s future.
I’m also still struggling to comprehend why Nino’s so insistent on blaming Connor for our father’s death.
The diamond’s missing, but Connor didn’t steal it, and the will’s missing too.
It’s all connected, but I lack the final piece to finish the puzzle. I just don’t know what it is.
This is why I always hated puzzles, Father.
In the hallway, two Russian enforcers nearly plow me down as they stomp toward my father’s office.
Curious, I follow.
They don’t bother closing the door behind them. As I stand to the side of the hall, I hear Nino and Oleg Belinski discussing an imminent attack on the Gallaghers. Belinski places a call and spits out orders in Russian.
Terror rockets through me like a shockwave as all the worst-case scenario nightmares I’ve envisioned for months play out in real time, inside my own family home.
I need to call Connor. To see him.
I grab my coat and bag and stride toward the front doors. While Nino said someone would go with me, our new Russian houseguests have ignored me all day. No one even looks up when I march through the foyer.
With my father gone, I’m all but invisible, and that works in my favor.
With Connor, things are different. I’m not invisible to him.
Though maybe that’s just the grief talking.