Chapter 13 - Preston's Real Role
Giulietta ran before Enzo could stop her.
“Boss!”
She hit the stairwell door with her shoulder.
Enzo followed anyway.
“I said alone.”
“You can fire me after.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Your father said the same thing.”
That nearly stopped her.
Nearly.
They reached B2.
Smoke already crawled along the ceiling.
A sprinkler pipe had been cut, but the fire suppression system had not activated.
“Manual sabotage,” Enzo said.
Giulietta pointed left.
“You circle around. No radio unless you have Luca.”
Enzo nodded and disappeared through the service tunnel.
Giulietta continued toward the old hotel furnace room.
Her phone buzzed with a location pin.
Matteo wanted her there.
She pushed through the final metal door.
Heat struck her face.
Luca sat tied to a pipe, conscious, blood dried along his cheek.
Matteo stood beside an industrial furnace holding a thick leather ledger.
A pistol rested in his other hand.
Giulietta stopped.
“You keep kidnapping the same brother. It’s repetitive.”
Luca laughed once despite himself.
Matteo did not.
“You still joke like Vincent.”
“You still lie like yourself.”
He held up the ledger.
“This contains every captain, every judge, every port official, every compromise Vincent documented before he died.”
“Then put it down.”
“No.”
“What do you want?”
“For you to understand why I did it.”
Giulietta’s eyes stayed on the gun.
“Make it quick.”
Matteo stepped closer to the furnace.
“Vincent wanted legitimacy. Hotels. Shipping. Construction. Political donations. He thought he could cut away the old blood and keep the power.”
“And you preferred bodies.”
“I preferred survival.”
“You poisoned him?”
Matteo’s face tightened.
“No.”
“You staged my marriage?”
“Yes.”
“Article Seven?”
“Yes.”
“Keller?”
“Yes.”
“Preston?”
“I chose him because he was weak.”
Luca shouted, “And Dad?”
Matteo’s eyes moved to him.
“Your father knew I was moving against him. He let it happen longer than he should have because he wanted names.”
Giulietta’s skin went cold.
“What names?”
“Every captain who would choose me over him.”
The answer struck harder than she expected.
Matteo smiled bitterly.
“Vincent made his own death a trap.”
Giulietta shook her head.
“No.”
“He knew somebody was poisoning him. He knew I was planning succession. He let both games run because he wanted to see who moved.”
“Then why did he die?”
“Because he guessed wrong about how much time he had.”
A faint metallic scrape came from behind Matteo.
He turned slightly.
Wrong move.
Giulietta lunged.
Matteo threw the ledger toward the furnace.
She caught one corner.
Paper tore.
Luca screamed, “G!”
A gun fired.
Matteo staggered.
Blood spread across his shirt.
Giulietta had not fired.
She turned toward the doorway.
A woman stood there with a pistol raised in both hands.
Dark hair streaked with silver.
A thin scar along her jaw.
Giulietta knew the face from one photograph kept in Vincent’s private desk.
Her mother.
Elena Marconi lowered the gun one inch.
May you like
“Hello, Giulietta.”
