Chapter 17 #2
"I know. I know I destroyed any trust between us. But Paola... a baby. You're having Cesare's baby."
"Yes."
"That's... that's huge. You're going to be a mother."
My hand drifted to my stomach. "I know."
"Are you happy? About it?"
The question surprised me. Was I happy? Terrified, yes. Overwhelmed, absolutely. But happy?
"Yes," I admitted. "I'm happy. Despite everything—despite how it started, despite this insane world—I'm happy."
Bianca's eyes filled with tears. "I'm glad. I know I don't have the right to say this, but... I'm glad you found something good in all this mess I created."
We sat in silence. Not comfortable, but not hostile anymore either.
"Why did you do it?" I asked finally. "Really. Why drug me and disappear?"
Bianca was quiet for a long moment. "Because I was a coward. Father arranged the marriage and I said yes because it was what he wanted. But the closer it got, the more terrified I became."
"Of Cesare?"
"Of the life. Of being a mafia wife. Of violence and danger and losing myself completely." She wiped her eyes. "I told myself it didn't matter. That you were quiet, invisible. That no one would notice the difference. That your life wasn't important enough to protect."
She looked at me, shame written across her face. "I convinced myself that because you weren't the favorite, because Father barely noticed you, that sacrificing you was... acceptable. That my life, my happiness, my freedom mattered more than yours."
The honesty was brutal. And somehow worse than a lie would have been.
"You thought I was disposable," I said flatly.
"Yes. I'm ashamed to say it, but yes. I thought my life as the golden daughter was more valuable than yours as the invisible one.
" Fresh tears streamed down her face. "I was wrong.
So completely wrong. You built a life from the wreckage I left you.
You're stronger than I ever gave you credit for—not because I thought you were strong, but because you became strong despite everything I did to you.”
“That was a lie you told yourself to justify the betrayal."
"Yes. It was. And I'm sorry. I know sorry doesn't fix anything, but I'm sorry."
I wanted to stay angry. Wanted to hold onto the rage that had sustained me through six weeks of chaos.
But I was so tired. And my sister—despite everything—looked genuinely broken.
"I can't forgive you," I said. "Not yet. Maybe not ever."
"I understand."
"But I don't hate you either. I don't have the energy to hate you."
It wasn't forgiveness. Not reconciliation. But it was something. A first step maybe.
"There's something you should know," Bianca said. "About Viktor."
My attention sharpened. "What about him?"
"When I was with him in Europe, he talked about contingency plans. He always has backup plans. Even now, arrested, he has people loyal to him."
"What kind of people?"
"I don't know the specifics. But he mentioned someone in the FBI. Someone who owes him favors. Said if he ever got arrested, he had insurance."
My blood ran cold. "You think he'll get out?"
"I think he's too smart to go down without a fight. And too connected to stay locked up forever."
Viktor, still a threat. Even behind bars.
"Does Piero know this?"
"I told him before I came here. He's passing it to Giulio."
At least the family was warned. A small comfort.
"What happens now?" Bianca asked. "With you and me?"
I didn't have an answer. "I don't know. You're still under guard at the penthouse, I’m assuming." In the past weeks, I hadn’t asked–hadn’t wanted to get involved with Cesare’s plans for my sister.
"Technically. But Piero said once Cesare wakes up and is stable, he'll decide what to do with me."
The implication was clear: Cesare might send her away. Or worse.
"Are you afraid?" I asked.
"Of Cesare? Terrified. I helped Viktor. Brought him information. Even if I didn't know how it would be used—"
"You knew enough."
"Yes. I did. And Cesare has every right to see me as an enemy."
I thought about the man upstairs. The Don who could be ruthless. Who'd killed people for less than betrayal like Bianca's.
But also the man who held me through nightmares. Who gave me choices when he didn't have to. Who took a bullet for his brother.
"I'll talk to him," I heard myself say. "When he wakes up. I'll ask him to... to go easy on you."
Bianca's eyes widened. "Why would you do that?"
"Because you're my sister. And because my baby deserves to know their aunt. Even if their aunt is a disaster."
It wasn't forgiveness. But it was mercy. And maybe that was enough for now.
Bianca left with her guard escort back to the penthouse. I returned to Cesare's room, exhausted on every level.
Giulio was there. "Everything okay?"
"Define ‘okay’."
He almost smiled. "Fair point."
I settled back into the chair beside Cesare's bed. Took his hand, brought it to my cheek.
"Your wife is an idiot. I just promised to protect the sister who destroyed our lives. You're going to wake up and think I've lost my mind."
But maybe that's what family did. Protect each other. Even when it was hard. Even when it wasn't deserved.
I was learning that from him. From Piero. From this strange, violent, loyal family I'd joined.
My phone rang—an unknown number. I almost didn't answer.
But something made me pick up. "Hello?"
"Mrs. Monti. This is Special Agent Rebecca Munoz, FBI. I'm handling Viktor Kozlov's case."
I sat up straighter. "Yes?"
"I wanted to inform you that Mr. Kozlov is being held without bail pending trial. However, his lawyers are already filing motions. It's possible he could be released on bail within a week."
A week. Viktor free in a week.
"How is that possible? He kidnapped someone. Shot at witnesses—"
"His lawyers are very good. And he has... connections. I'm calling because I wanted to warn you: if he's released, you and your family should take precautions."
"What kind of precautions?"
"The kind that keep you alive, Mrs. Monti. Viktor Kozlov doesn't forgive betrayals. And you cost him fifty percent of an empire."
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone, heart racing. Viktor could be free in a week. While Cesare was still in the hospital. Still vulnerable.
I was still processing the FBI warning when alarms started blaring.
Not in Cesare's room—down the hall.
Nurses running. Code blue announcement over the intercom.
Giulio appeared in the doorway. "It's Piero. He's crashing."
I was on my feet immediately. "What happened?"
"Internal bleeding. They missed something. He's being rushed to emergency surgery now."
I ran down the hall, saw Piero on a gurney being pushed toward the OR. Unconscious. Pale. Blood soaking through bandages.
The doctors wouldn't let me follow. Wouldn't tell me anything except, "We're doing everything we can."
I stood in the hallway, shaking.
First Cesare shot. Now Piero dying.
And I was almost six weeks pregnant, alone, with Viktor potentially walking free in a week.
I slid down the wall, sat on the floor, hand on my stomach.
"Please," I whispered. To God, to fate, to anyone listening. "Please don't let me lose them. Don't let our baby lose their father and uncle. Please."
Hours passed. No update.
Then, finally, a doctor emerged from the OR.
Their expression was grave.
"Mrs. Monti, we need to talk about your brother-in-law."