21
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, smoothing down my black dress
“Ready, sweetheart?” Mom appeared in my doorway, elegant in her own evening wear. The worry lines around her eyes betrayed her calm exterior.
“Almost “I fastened the diamond earrings she’d given me for my twenty–fifth birthday. “Where’s Tony?” “Downstairs with your father, going over some last–minute details.” She stepped into my room, closing the door
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softly. “Isabella, I know you’ve been… distant these past few years. But having you back, especially now…”
“Mom.” I turned to face her. “I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”
She pulled me into a tight hug, her familiar perfume bringing back memories of childhood – of simpler times before I understood what our family really was
“The car’s ready,” Tony called up the stairs. “We should move.”
Dad was waiting by the front door, his face a mask of calm determination. But I caught the slight tremor in his hands as he adjusted his cufflinks.
The drive to the meeting location was tense. Tony kept checking his phone, while Dad stared straight ahead. Mom reached across the seat to squeeze my hand.
“Whatever happens tonight,” Dad finally broke the silence, “we face it as a family.”
I thought of Marco’s warning, of the secrets he said would come to light. My stomach twisted.
“They might try
to intimidate us,” Tony said, his jaw tight. “Show off their combined strength. But we’re Roman We don’t break easily.”
“No,” I agreed, thinking of everything I’d survived, everything that had brought me back to this moment. “We
don’t.”
The venue came into view – an exclusive restaurant owned by a neutral family. Several black SUVs were already parked outside. I spotted the Kabbaro’s distinctive silver Bentley.
“Here we go,” Dad muttered as our driver pulled up to the entrance.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself.
I stepped out of the car, the cool evening air doing little to calm my nerves. The restaurant’s private entrance wa flanked by men in dark suits – a mix of security from different families I recognized a few faces from my childhood, noting how they’d aged
Marco was already inside, standing near the bar in deep conversation with someone I didn’t recognize. His eyes met mine briefly, a silent message passing between us
“Isabella.” Antonio Ricci’s voice cut through the murmur of conversations. He approached with Shanya on his arm, her red dress making her look like a splash of blood against the restaurant’s cream–colored walls. “It’s been tor
long.”
“Not long enough,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral despite the acid burning in my throat.
Shanya’s lips curved into what might have passed for a smile. “We were just discussing the old days with your
father. Before all this… unpleasantness”
“I remember those days clearly” I said. “Back when people honored their agreements.”
Antonio’s expression hardened. “Times change. Alliances shift”
“They certainly do.” I felt Marco move closer, though he maintained a respectful distance.
–
More families filed in the Costas, the Vitales, even representatives from the West Coast families. This wasn’t just a meeting anymore – it was a show of force.
Dad guided us to our assigned table, strategically positioned to keep both exits in view. I noticed how the seating arrangement kept potential allies close and enemies closer.
“Quite the turnout” Mom whispered, her fingers tightening around her wine glass.
I watched as Marco navigated the room, stopping at various tables, playing his part perfectly. To everyone else, he was just another mid–level boss, but I knew better now. The real power in the room wasn’t sitting at the head
table with the Kabbaros and Riccis
The first course arrived, but nobody seemed interested in the food. The air crackled with tension as family heads
8:53 AM & c
exchange rave grances
whispered conversations.
“Let’s begin,” Antonio announced, standing. “We all know why we’re here.”
I watched Antonio rise from his seat, commanding the room’s attention. My fingers curled around my napkin under the table, knuckles white with tension
“The Romano family stands alone,” Antonio continued, his voice carrying across the hushed room. “The old alliances are dead. Tonight, we formalize new ones.”
“Interesting choice of words,” I cut in, unable to hold my tongue. “Considering how quick you were to break the
old ones.
Shanya’s eyes narrowed. “The decision was mutual, Isabella. Your family’s… methods no longer aligned with.
our vision.”
“Vision?” I let out a sharp laugh. “Is that what we’re calling betrayal these days?”
“Bella,” Mom warned softly, but I was past caring.
“Let her speak,” Marco’s voice carried from somewhere behind me. “I’d like to hear what Miss Romano has to
say.”
I caught the slight tilt of his head, the calculated way he positioned himself not quite with us, not quite against us. Playing his part perfectly.
“The Romanos have always honored their word,” I said, rising to meet Antonio’s gaze. “We’ve protected our allies, supported our friends. And how are we repaid? With backstabbing and secret marriages?”
“Business evolves,” Antonio replied smoothly. “Surely you understand that, having spent so much time… away
from the family.”
The dig stung, but I didn’t flinch. “I may have left, but at least I was honest about it. I didn’t hide behind pretty words and fake smiles while plotting to destroy decades of trust.”
“Careful, Isabella,” Shanya purred. “You wouldn’t want emotions to cloud your judgment. Not when there’s so
much at stake.”
I felt Marco shift closer, a subtle movement that somehow made me stand straighter. His presence reminded me that we held cards they didn’t know about – secrets that could shake their newfound alliance to its core.
“You’re right, Shanya,” I smiled, all teeth and warning. “There is a lot at stake. More than you know.”
