Chapter 10
Cesare
I had my phone out before we reached the elevator, thumb already dialing. "Get everyone to the penthouse. Now. I don't care what time it is."
Paola followed silently, still in her emerald dress, diamonds catching the harsh lobby lights. She looked like a queen walking into battle—exhausted, beautiful, dangerous.
The elevator ride stretched. Ninety floors felt like ninety hours.
"What are we going to do?" she asked quietly.
"Find out what Bianca has. Before Viktor uses it to destroy us completely."
Her hand found mine. Squeezed once.
The penthouse transformed into a war room within fifteen minutes. My dining table—where Paola and I had shared exactly one meal—became a strategy center. Maps. Laptops. Phones. The architecture of modern warfare.
Piero arrived first, laptop already open, exhaustion and urgency carved into his face.
Then the capos: Giulio, my head of security, built like a wall and twice as impenetrable.
Matteo, who handled financial operations with surgical precision.
Rocco, who ran my information network—eyes and ears throughout the city.
They gathered around the table, professional soldiers awaiting orders.
I poured myself scotch. It was going to be a long night.
"Talk," I commanded.
Rocco spoke first, pulling up files on his tablet. "Bianca Lombardo arrived at JFK at 11 p.m. tonight. Private charter from Prague. Went directly to Viktor's building in Tribeca."
"How long in Prague?"
"Based on hotel records, she's been there for the past week—since right after the wedding. Before that, she was in Milan for two days, Vienna before that. She only flew home for one day." Rocco glanced at Paola. “The day before the wedding, when you met.”
"She's been moving around Europe since the wedding, gathering information. Now she's back with whatever she found."
"Looks that way," Rocco confirmed.
Paola went perfectly still. “What is it?” I asked, a hand going to her lower back, thumb rubbing reassuringly. Her eyes were wide. Scared.
“I just… I just remembered. That day. She said Viktor’s name…” Her brows knit, frustrated tears forming. “I can’t remember exactly why.”
“The drugs,” Giulio said, looking between the two of us. “They have a way of blocking memories. They’ll surface days, weeks, sometimes years later.”
Paola’s face went pale. My stomach knotted with nausea, imagining why Giulio knew that, why he looked so grim. I may have been a mafia Don and a monster in the eyes of some, but one thing I wouldn’t touch was the kind of drugs that would ruin people’s–women’s–lives.
"So Viktor's been planning this since before the wedding," Piero added. "He knew about the switch. Probably arranged Bianca's escape himself. I wonder if the whole thing was his idea."
Rocco continued: "Our source in Viktor's building—a doorman on our payroll—said she arrived with a briefcase. Metal, locked. She was nervous. Viktor was expecting her."
The documents. Whatever leverage Bianca thought warranted selling out her own family.
"What kind of documents?" I asked.
"Unknown. But Viktor cleared his entire schedule. Sent his security away. Whatever she has, he wanted privacy to examine it."
That sent ice through my veins. Viktor valued privacy only when something was explosive enough to reshape the board.
I paced, mind racing through possibilities. Paola sat at the table's edge, watching, listening. Still playing the role even here—the Don's wife learning the business of blood and power.
"What could Bianca have that Viktor wants?" I asked the room. "She's been gone for weeks. What leverage does she possess?"
Giulio offered: "Financial records? Proof of your operations?"
"Bianca didn't have access to my operations. She was supposed to marry me, not audit me."
Matteo chimed in,"Could be Lombardo family records. Giovanni's businesses. Proof of money laundering, tax evasion, illegal dealings."
"Possible. But why give that to Viktor? How does destroying her own father benefit her?"
Paola's quiet voice cut through the speculation. "Unless she's not trying to destroy our father. Unless she's trying to destroy me."
Every head turned.
"Explain," I said.
She stood, moved to the window—unconscious echo of my own pacing. "Bianca has always been the favored daughter. The chosen one. Father's golden child." She turned to face us. "But I married you. I got the alliance, the power, the position she was supposed to have."
“But it was your sister who drugged you,” Rocco murmured. “Why would she…?”
We all turned to look at Paola. She bit her lip, twisting the diamond necklace carefully between her fingers.
“It… may not have been entirely her idea. Bianca and I haven’t been close in a long time, but I never would’ve guessed that she’d be capable of this.
Maybe she was forced into it, by Viktor or my father, I don’t know.
And one thing she is, is vengeful. So if she went through with it and then realized that it all worked out perfectly for me and made me the favored Lombardo daughter… ”
Understanding clicked into place.
My mind raced through implications. "What could she possibly have on you?"
"I don't know. My life is… was… boring, before you."
"So she gives Viktor ammunition against you specifically," Piero said slowly. "But what would that accomplish?"
"It delegitimizes the marriage even further," I realized, the strategy crystallizing. "If Viktor can prove Paola is somehow unfit, unsuitable, or problematic—it gives him grounds to challenge the alliance again. To demand I annul the marriage."
Silence as everyone processed.
"But what could Bianca have?" Matteo asked. "Paola's not a criminal. She worked at a gallery. Taught art to kids. There's nothing scandalous there."
"Unless Bianca manufactured something," Rocco suggested carefully. "Forged documents. False evidence. Made Paola look guilty of something she didn't do. The best person to do that would be her sister."
My blood ran cold.
That's exactly what Viktor would use.
It didn't matter if it was real. In our world, the appearance of impropriety was enough. If Viktor had documents—real or forged—suggesting Paola was involved in some crime, some conspiracy, some betrayal... the families would demand I divorce her.
And if I refused, they'd question my judgment. My fitness to lead.
"We need to know what's in that briefcase," I said flatly. "Tonight. Before Viktor has time to verify, copy, or distribute whatever it contains."
Giulio, looked pained. "You want to hit Viktor's building? That's an act of war."
"We're already at war. Viktor just hasn't declared it yet."
Piero leaned forward. "If we go after Viktor and we don’t win, every family will turn against us. Especially after tonight. They're already questioning your judgment."
I moved to the table, pulled up building schematics on one of the laptops. Viktor's Tribeca building: twenty stories, luxury condos, he owned the penthouse and the two floors below it.
"Security?" I asked Giulio.
"Tight. Private elevator to his floors. Keycard and biometric access. Armed guards, cameras, the works."
"Weaknesses?"
Giulio pulled up security specs. "The building shares a basement parking garage with the adjacent property. A service corridor runs between them. Old infrastructure from when they were part of the same development."
"Can we access Viktor's floors from there?"
"Theoretically. But we'd need to bypass security, get through three locked doors, avoid cameras."
Rocco added: "And that assumes Bianca and the documents are still there. She could have left already."
"She's still there," I said with certainty. "Viktor wouldn't let her leave until he's copied everything, verified authenticity, secured the information. That takes time."
Piero: "So we have a window. Six hours, at the most."
"Then we move fast."
"I'm coming with you," Paola said.
Every man in the room looked at her like she'd lost her mind.
"Absolutely not," I said immediately. "You'll stay here where it's safe."
"Safe? Nowhere is safe if Viktor has whatever Bianca brought him." She crossed her arms. "And if those documents are about me, I have a right to see them."
"You have a right to stay alive. This is dangerous. Professional. No place for—"
"For what? A woman? Your wife?" Fire in her eyes. "I'm not some delicate trophy, Cesare. This is my life too. My sister. My reputation on the line."
Piero wisely stayed silent, watching the standoff.
My jaw clenched. "You're not trained for this. You'd be a liability."
"Or an asset. Bianca is my identical twin. If we need to get close to her, who better than me?"
That... actually made strategic sense.
I hated that it made strategic sense.
"If—and this is a massive if—you come, you follow every order I give. Immediately. Without question."
Paola nodded. "Agreed."
"You stay behind me at all times. You don't engage unless I tell you to. You run if I tell you to run."
"Fine."
"And you change out of that dress into something practical."
A ghost of a smile. "Obviously."
Giulio looked pained. "Boss, this is a bad idea."
"I know. But she's right—having Bianca's identical twin could be useful. Especially if we need to create confusion or distraction."
Rocco: "What's the objective? Retrieve the documents? Grab Bianca?"
"Both if possible. Documents are priority one. We get those, destroy them, Viktor loses his leverage."
"And if we can't get them?"
My expression went cold. "Then we make sure Viktor can't use them. If Bianca disappears, if the documents disappear, if there's doubt about their authenticity—Viktor's leverage evaporates. Even fake documents are dangerous if people believe they're real."
The implication hung in the air.
Paola's face paled but she didn't object. She understood what was at stake.