Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ezio
"Olivia," I said. "Go back inside."
She stood there, looking at me, then at Sebastian.
Her eyes held confusion, bewilderment, and something else I couldn't read.
"You two..." her voice shook. "You're cousins?"
"Yes," Sebastian said, still wearing that gentle smile.
Olivia stared at us for a long moment.
"I don't understand."
"I know," I cut her off. "But now's not the time. Leo's waiting for you."
She glanced at me, her lips parting like she wanted to say something, but nothing came out.
She turned and walked toward the ballroom.
Her heels clicked against the floor, growing fainter, until they disappeared around the corner.
The hallway held just Sebastian and me.
He stood there, champagne glass in hand, that smile still on his face.
"Ezio," he said. "Long time."
"What are you doing here?"
"Business trip," he said. "The company has a project to discuss."
"That so?"
"Yes."
I stared at him.
Still the same. Gentle, polished, smile perfectly calibrated.
But I knew he was lying.
"Cut the act. I mean, why the hell are you hanging around my wife, your cousin-in-law?"
"Who?"
"Don't play dumb."
He smiled, took a sip of champagne.
"Your wife? Ha. Five years ago," he said, "in France, she had no one."
"Five years. You've known each other for five years."
"Yes," he said. "Five years."
My fingers tightened at my sides.
Five years.
He'd been with Olivia for five years.
Helping her run the flower shop, helping her raise the kid, sharing every ordinary day.
And me?
What had I been doing?
I'd been in New York, at the manor, drowning in endless meetings and social obligations, thinking about her, searching for her, not even knowing where the hell she was.
"What's your angle? Why'd you get close to her?"
"She's a good woman," Sebastian said. "So I wanted to become her husband."
"Shut your mouth! She's your cousin-in-law!" Rage flooded my vision. I drove my fist into his face.
"Is she?" His head snapped to the side. He wiped the blood from his lip, looked back at me, the smile in his eyes fading slightly. "Then why did you leave her alone with a kid, struggling in a foreign country?"
I stared at him.
"You don't know," he continued, "how many jobs she worked to support herself and Leo. Flower shop, restaurants, cleaning—she did everything."
"I—"
"You don't know," he cut me off, "because all you care about is power, status. You didn't go looking for her."
"I did look!" My voice rose. "I looked for her for five goddamn years!"
"But you didn't find her," he said. "I did."
The words cut like a blade.
I stared at him, feeling that fire in my chest ignite again.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," he set down his champagne glass, looked at me, the gentleness gone from his eyes, replaced by something cold and sharp, "she's doing fine now. She doesn't need you."
"Whether she needs me isn't your call."
"It's her call," he said. "And she already turned you down, didn't she?"
My fingers clenched tight.
"Sebastian," I said, biting off each word. "Stay away from her."
"Can't do that, man. I don't have to give you everything. The inheritance is yours. Does she have to be yours, too?"
He smiled, the expression full of mockery and something else I couldn't decipher.
I took a step forward.
He didn't back down.
We stood there, less than two feet apart, eye to eye.
"She doesn't love you," I said.
"Maybe," he said. "But at least I never hurt her. And I was there when she needed someone."
The words hit like a slap.
"And you?" he continued. "What did you do when she needed you most? You locked her out. You let another woman move into your home. You let her leave alone—"
"Enough."
My voice dropped low, each word scraping through my teeth.
"Sebastian," I said. "You better remember your place."
"My place?" He laughed. "I'm your cousin. Of course I remember. But I'm also Olivia's friend, and Leo's—"
He stopped.
"Leo's what?" I stared at him. "What were you going to say?"
"Nothing," he said. "Just reminding you. Leo doesn't know you. To him, you're just a stranger."
The words hit harder than any accusation.
"But I'll make him know me," I said. "I'll make him understand I'm going to be his father."
"Good luck with that," Sebastian said. "But I don't think Olivia will let you."
He turned toward the ballroom.
At the doorway, he paused, glanced back at me.
"Ezio," he said. "Some things, once you lose them, they're gone."
Then he walked through.
I stood in the hallway, staring at that door for a long time.
His words circled through my head.
I turned, walked the other direction.
I needed to clear my head.
I went to the garden, sat down on a bench.
Pulled out my phone, dialed a number.
"Carlo."
"Sir."
"Dig into Sebastian Visconti."
"Your cousin?"
"Yes," I said. "Check his recent movements, who he's been in contact with these past years, and—"
I paused.
"Find out what the hell he's been doing in France the last five years! Everything! Especially anything related to Olivia!"
"Understood," Carlo said. "How soon?"
"Fast as possible."
I hung up, set the phone on my knee.
Moonlight pooled across the lawn, painting everything silver-white.
I sat there, my mind spinning through everything.
Sebastian in France.
Olivia in France too.
They'd known each other for five years.
Since Leo was born.
These coincidences stacked together, and something felt off.
Sebastian and I had been close.
He was the son of my father's exiled brother, five years younger than me, raised outside the family.
When he was ten and his father died, he was brought back.
My father, out of guilt, raised him like his own.
We grew up together, close as brothers, but after we became adults, he drifted away, rarely came home.
The elders didn't like him because his mother wasn't family-approved.
But my father liked him—liked him more than me, even.
Because he was gentle, polished, always said the right things, did the right things.
And me—
I was the cold, grim son who satisfied the elders but disappointed my father.
Before my father died, he called Sebastian to his bedside, talked to him for a long time.
What they said, I never knew.
But after that, Sebastian left the family, took over a company, went roaming. He only showed up when something major happened.
He said he wanted freedom, didn't want to be chained to the family.
The elders agreed. He wasn't the heir anyway—didn't matter if he stayed or left.
But now—
Now he showed up next to Olivia. Next to Leo.
This wasn't a coincidence.
Absolutely not.
My phone rang. I answered.
"Sir," Carlo said. "Got the preliminary findings."
"Talk."
"Sebastian Visconti left New York five years ago, went to France. On the surface, he's running an investment company, but—"
He paused.
"But what?"
"But under the table, the company's doing business with some smaller gangs."
My fingers tightened against my knee.
"Keep digging," I said. "Figure out which old bastards are pulling strings behind this. There's more to this."
"Understood."
I hung up, stood.
If he approached Olivia with an agenda—
My fingers clenched, knuckles white.
I wouldn't let him succeed.
Not a chance.
I turned toward the ballroom.
I had to find Olivia. I had to tell her—
Tell her what?
That Sebastian might be using her? That the person she trusts might be my enemy?
Would she even believe me?
I stopped at the ballroom entrance.
Through the glass doors, I saw her standing in the crowd, Leo beside her, Sebastian on her other side, leaning down to say something.
She smiled. Bright and genuine.
I watched that smile, and something in my chest took a brutal hit.
She smiled so easily around him. Around me, she was always wound tight.
Damn it.
I couldn't charge in like some brainless brute.
Evidence. I had to find some goddamn proof. Expose him.
I turned and walked away.