Chapter 11 #2
His expression was hardening, the anger evident on his face. Whoever did this better pray that Enzo never caught them, because from the look on his face alone, I was certain that my husband wouldn’t hesitate to tear the culprit apart with his bare hands.
“Enzo, there’s no way this is my father’s doing.
He wouldn’t threaten me with an anonymous note,” I said.
While my father had the power to punish me for insubordination, he wouldn’t slink in the shadows to do it.
He’d announce the punishment to my face so that I would have the chance to defend myself.
That was how we handled intra-family problems.
My husband paused, then placed a large, gentle hand on my shoulder. “I know we don’t see eye to eye on what your father is capable of, but we can at least agree that no, he didn’t send this.”
“And the fire?” I asked gazing at him in the mirror.
“The fire has your father’s fingerprints on it,” he said firmly. “I’m sorry, Valentina, I know that family loyalty is very important to you and—”
“You are my family too,” I said, interrupting in a shaky voice.
There were two choices before me and I was terrified of both.
On one hand, there was the loyalty I had always shown my parents.
On the other, was the new, fragile loyalty that I was only just beginning to grant Enzo.
I’d been loyal to my parents my whole life.
Loyalty to Enzo, on the other hand, was still so fresh.
We’d only known each other a few months.
A short time compared to the lifetime spent with my parents.
Yet love and loyalty weren’t simply about the length of time I had known someone. Enzo and I had been through so much together, facing the biggest challenges of my entire life in the mafia: ending a war between our families while also tracking down this hitman.
But it was clear that despite my love for my parents and my love for Enzo, I would have to choose between them.
There was a loyalty to blood or there was loyalty to the heart.
In the end, I would have to decide. The only real decision would be one that came from the heart.
Loyalty to Enzo would come first before anything else.
Not simply because he was my husband and I had certain obligations, but because I loved him with all my heart.
Our love was the most important thing in my life.
It needed a chance to grow, to flourish the same way my love for my parents had gotten a chance.
As much as it pained me to put something ahead of my beloved parents, that something was the love of my life.
I would choose Enzo always. He was my heart.
“Remember, we’re a team. We work together,” I continued.
“I’m not saying you should be disloyal to your father.” Enzo gave my shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “I just want you to stay safe. To know what you’re up against. We’re all safer when we face the truth.”
I nodded, placing my hand over his. “You’re right. But I’m not going to automatically decide my father is guilty. I’ll need evidence. Once I have that, I’ll accept whatever we learn.”
“Understood,” he said. “This means a lot. You’re sticking by me despite what that might lead to with your parents. So I owe it to you to get definitive proof. That’s what we need to keep working on. Gathering evidence so that we can nail whoever is responsible.”
“So what are you thinking? Because if one action is my father’s doing, then what about the other attacks? Could all this be the work of two separate people?” I asked. “My father ordering the fire separately from someone else responsible for everything else?”
Enzo paused. “It seems pretty obvious that someone was helping the shooter coordinate at the wedding today. So, a conspiracy of two people working together makes the most sense. Could be messier than that though. Things aren’t always as cut and dried as we’d like.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Messier...wait you think my father is working with the person who sent this message? The person who tried to shoot up the wedding today?”
“You’re the brains here, Valentina. Getting clarity on what your father is capable of must include things that are hard for you to contemplate,” Enzo said.
“But if you take more possibilities into consideration, you might be able to see the bigger picture. You might be able to come up with a theory.”
I swallowed hard, thinking back to every attack against us, starting with my father getting shot in Enzo’s apartment. There was no way my father could be working with whoever did that to him. Unless...
My hand flew to my mouth, as my eyes widened in the mirror in front of me. “Enzo, what if my father unwittingly hired the person who shot him in your apartment? Is it possible that the hitman my father sent to start the woodshed fire is also the person who tried to kill him?”
“You think your father hired an arsonist, but he doesn’t know it’s the same person who shot him?” Enzo asked sounding stunned. “What the hell. That’s crazy... but it could be crazy enough to be true.”
Fear clamped down on my throat, making it hard to speak. My stomach twisted painfully. “If my dad sent an arsonist to set that fire, it’s someone that he trusts. That could mean that someone’s using my dad and Papa has no idea. Oh, my goodness.”
Enzo stared at me in the mirror. “Again, there’s no definitive proof, but it’s a good theory. Holy shit.”
My gaze darted around the room, renewed fear settling over me like an oppressive cloud.
The hitman finding his way directly into my home made me so uneasy.
Thanks to Enzo, we’d been able to really beef up security at the townhouse.
Only vetted people could get inside. Which was why no one had attacked us here.
With everything from metal detectors out front to security guards monitoring the residence, there had been almost zero trouble at my townhouse.
In fact, most of the attacks had come when I left the townhouse.
It had been the catering office, the bank, the safehouse, and the church that had proven to be unsafe for us.
Which made sense. It was much tougher to increase security at businesses we didn’t control or in remote locations.
But now the hitman had been able to partially slip into my home. Not with a direct attack but a threat. A threat that sounded a lot like that sinister text message Enzo had received the day of the bank bombing.
I shuddered at the thought of some would-be killer managing to get past my townhouse security. If a threat could get in, what else could slip through?
“I’d ask what’s in the box, but it can’t be anything good,” Enzo said.
With the ribbon slipped off, all I had to do was open the lid.
But I’d been in the mafia long enough to know that nothing good was going to come of it.
After all, when Papa had decided to cut off Claudio De Luca’s hand, I was the one who had viciously suggested sending the hand gift-wrapped to the De Lucas in a box.
Such was the extent of my hatred. What if someone was returning the favor now?
“It’s small so it can’t be...” I felt too sick to continue saying the words. Hands trembling, I forced myself to lift the lavender lid. Inside was a single bullet.
My stomach lurched and I felt so sick with both terror and relief that I scrambled to my feet and found myself in Enzo’s waiting arms. I had been terrified that someone had mailed a body part.
Payback for my violence. But a bullet was barely better, making my relief short-lived as I clung to Enzo.
This was a clear threat. Whoever our tormenter was, he wanted everyone in my family to suffer. He wanted us dead.
I trembled in his arms, tears pricking the backs of my eyes.
We had finally found our happiness and now a would-be killer was threatening to take it all away.
When I woke up this morning, I could never have predicted that this truly would have turned out to be the happiest day of my life.
Not just the day I married Enzo, but the day we said ‘I love you’ to each other for the first time.
Yet what had turned out to be the happiest day was also the most terrifying.
Pulling away, I reached for the tissue holder on my vanity, my vision blurring.
Before I could grab the tissue, my eyes landed on the open lavender box.
I looked from the small box to the dwindling pile of wedding presents nearby.
Then an idea struck me with such force that I gasped. A way to get to the truth.
Enzo reached for me. “Valentina, are you okay? Do you need water? Air?”
“No, I’m okay. Nothing’s wrong.” I swiped at my tears then turned to face him again. “In fact, I’ve thought of an idea to help identify who sent us this box.”
“You mean—”
I nodded. “There’s a way to find out who shot up our wedding. And I know how to do it.”