Chapter 20
Cesare
My entire body tensed despite the pain radiating from my chest. "Close the door."
Sofia did, leaning against it like her legs might give out.
"Start talking," I said, voice flat. "Now."
"I know about the traps," she said immediately. "The fake information you fed us. Marco, Luca, and me. I know you're trying to find il falco."
My blood ran cold. "How—"
"I coordinate family events. Security. Schedules.
" Her words came fast, desperate. "When you suddenly asked me to arrange 'security concerns' and told me about evidence being moved to a specific location—information you've never shared so freely before—I knew.
You were testing me. And when I checked with Giulio's team about the transport details, they were vague.
Evasive. That's when I realized you were setting traps for all three of us. "
She took a shaking breath. "I'm good at my job, Cesare. I notice patterns. And you don't just suddenly trust me with sensitive information unless you're watching to see what I do with it."
"So you came here to confess before we caught you."
"Yes; I’m il falco. And I can't do this anymore." Her voice broke. "Viktor has my daughter. He's had her for six months. Said if I didn't help him, I'd never see her again."
Paola's hand found mine. "Your daughter? But the custody agreement—"
"My ex-husband doesn't have her. Viktor took her from him three months ago. He staged it to look like she ran away. She's sixteen, troubled—everyone believed it." Sofia's face crumpled. "I tried everything to find her. Hired private investigators. Searched myself. Nothing."
My mind raced. "What did you give him?"
"Schedules. Family movements. I told him about the anniversary celebration venue. About Piero's routine." Her voice broke completely. "I'm the reason he was able to take Piero. I gave Viktor the opening."
The admission hung heavy between us. Sofia was Viktor's spy, embedded in my family for six months.
"There's something else," Sofia said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Something I need to tell you."
I waited, wondering what else she could possibly confess.
"The texts. The anonymous messages warning you about a spy in the family." She looked up, meeting my eyes. "That was me."
Paola's hand tightened on mine. "You sent those texts?"
"I was trying to warn you without Viktor knowing.
If he found out I'd contacted you directly, he'd—" Her voice broke.
"He'd hurt Isabella. Or worse. But I couldn't just stand by and watch him destroy you.
So I sent warnings. Hoping you'd figure it out on your own.
Hoping you'd find the spy—find me—and somehow save my daughter without me having to betray Viktor directly. "
"But we didn't figure it out fast enough," I said.
"No. You suspected Marco, Luca, even each other at times. But not me. I was just... there. Quiet. Competent. Invisible." Tears streamed down her face. "Viktor was pleased with how well I'd blended in. How much you all trusted me."
"The texts were cryptic," Paola said. "Why not just tell us directly?"
"Because Viktor had people monitoring communications.
If I'd been too specific, if I'd named myself, he would have known.
The burner phone, the vague warnings—that was all I could risk.
" Sofia's voice cracked completely. "I was trying to protect everyone.
My daughter. Your family. But I just made everything worse. "
"You were in an impossible situation," Paola said quietly.
"That doesn't excuse what I did. What I helped Viktor do." Sofia looked at me directly. "I know you'll never forgive me. I'm not asking you to. I just wanted you to know—I tried. In my own cowardly way, I tried to warn you."
The room was silent for a long moment.
"The texts did help," I admitted finally. "They made us look for the spy. Made us careful. If you hadn't sent them, we might not have discovered you before Viktor made his next move."
"Small comfort," Sofia whispered.
"Maybe. But it's something."
"How did it start?" I demanded.
Sofia slid down to sit on the floor, exhausted. "Viktor approached me. In March, right after you announced the Lombardo marriage. He said he knew about my daughter, knew she was vulnerable. He had photos of her. Threatened to hurt her if I didn't cooperate."
"Why didn't you come to me?"
"Because you would have gone to war with Viktor! And my daughter would have been the first casualty!" Sofia was crying harder now, mascara streaking down her cheeks. "I had to protect her. She's all I have. My whole world."
Paola spoke gently. "Where is she now? Your daughter?"
"I don't know. Viktor moves her every few weeks.
Sends me proof of life videos so I know he hasn't hurt her.
Yet." Sofia pulled out her phone with shaking hands.
"But I've been analyzing them. Background sounds, visual clues.
I think she's in New Jersey. There's a house Viktor owns through a shell company. "
My anger warred with understanding. Sofia had been coerced. Terrorized into betrayal by the most powerful leverage that existed—her child's safety.
But she’d still betrayed us. Still gave Viktor everything he needed to nearly destroy my family, kill my husband and brother-in-law.
"You're going to help us get her back," I said. Decision made. "And then you're going to help us destroy Viktor."
Sofia looked up, hope flickering through the tears. "How?"
"You keep playing spy. Feed Viktor false information. Tell him we're not attending tomorrow's hearing—that Paola had pregnancy complications, that I won't leave her side."
Sofia's eyes widened. "You're pregnant?"
Paola nodded. "Six weeks. And yes, I'm fine. But Viktor doesn't know that, so he’ll trust you even more if you’re bringing new information."
"If he thinks we're distracted," I continued, "he'll be less prepared for whatever we do at the hearing. Less likely to have contingencies in place."
"And my daughter?"
"We're going to find her. Tonight. Before tomorrow's hearing." I met her desperate gaze. "Do you have any idea where Viktor might be keeping her?"
Sofia showed us her phone. Video analysis. Screenshots. Notes on background sounds—traffic patterns, train schedules, ambient noise. She'd been planning her own rescue, just didn't have the resources to execute it.
"There's a property in Weehawken. It’s a residential area, a quiet street. The trains in the background match the New Jersey Transit schedule. And in one video, I heard church bells—St. Augustine's, I think." Her voice gained strength. "That's where she is. I'm almost certain."
Paola studied the analysis. "This is impressive work."
"I'm her mother. Of course I've been looking for her." Sofia's hands trembled. "Every second of every day."
I reached for my phone. "Giulio."
"Boss?"
"I need you. My room. Now."
Three minutes later, Giulio arrived. I explained the situation in clipped sentences. Sofia's betrayal. Her daughter's kidnapping. The Weehawken property.
"We move tonight," I ordered. "Full tactical team. Assume Viktor has guards. Assume they're armed. Priority one is getting the girl out alive. Priority two is not starting a war in a residential neighborhood."
"On it." Giulio studied Sofia. "I'll need you to identify your daughter. Description, recent photos, anything that helps us distinguish her from potential decoys."
Sofia nodded, pulling up photos. A beautiful teenager with dark hair and Sofia's eyes.
"Her name is Isabella," Sofia whispered. "Bella. She has a scar on her left eyebrow from when she was eight. Fell off a bike."
Giulio memorized the details. "We'll bring her home."
After he left with Sofia to coordinate the rescue, Paola exhaled slowly.
"Do you trust her?"
"No. But I understand her. A parent protecting their child—that's a powerful motivator." I thought about our baby, still just cells dividing, already the most important thing in my world. "I'd burn everything down to keep our child safe."
"She could be playing us."
"My instinct says she's genuine. The fear in her eyes when she talked about her daughter—that wasn't performance." I shifted carefully, pain flaring. "But we verify everything. Trust, then verify."
"And if we can't find Isabella tonight?"
My jaw set. "Then we go to the hearing anyway and deal with whatever Viktor throws at us."
Hours passed as we waited for news from Giulio about the rescue operation.
It was past midnight. The hospital was quiet, just the hum of machines and distant footsteps in corridors. Nurses making rounds. Someone's family leaving after visiting hours.
Paola was exhausted but wired, unable to sleep despite everything. I was the same—eyes open, staring at the ceiling, mind racing through scenarios and contingencies.
"You need to rest," Paola said.
"So do you."
"Can't. Too much to think about."
We lay side by side in the narrow hospital bed, both tense, both struggling with the weight of tomorrow.
"We're going to survive this," Paola said. "Like we survive everything else."
"Surviving and winning aren't the same thing."
She turned on her side to face me. "Then we'll win too. Together."
My hand found hers under the thin hospital blanket. "Together."
The silence stretched, but it changed. Charged.
I was acutely aware of Paola beside me—the warmth of her body, the subtle scent of her skin, the rise and fall of her breathing.
It had been days since we'd been intimate. Days of hospitals and crisis and fear. But the desire hadn't gone anywhere. If anything, it had intensified.
Nearly losing each other made everything sharper. More urgent.
"I miss you," Paola whispered.
"I'm right here."
"You know what I mean."
I did. I missed her too. Missed touching her, tasting her, losing myself in her.
"The doctors said no physical activity," I reminded her. "My lung—"