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“By then he was married, and Paulie was already born.”
“He was going to leave his wife.” His face goes white with understanding. “He was going to leave his wife, take on my mother, Lola, and me. Your father would have a pulse on me, his link to the Russos. His in to take over.” Dante licks his lips.
“It was your father who told Johnny about me. He didn't know why he was carrying out the hit. Once your brother was in prison, Johnny rose to Carmine’s right hand, and Carmine saw a way to still get his in with the Russos,” I say, and the room goes quiet. The air goes static.
“Carmine agreed that Johnny was unhinged, that we needed to keep what happened under wraps because it would give the capos ideas.”
“The only person giving Johnny ideas was your father. Your father sent Johnny after me.”
“I don’t understand—"
“You have your people; I have mine. I have my own connections, my own sources, Dante. You need the proof, and I’ve got it. The Russos have been your family's rivals since the dawn of time. Your father saw an opportunity. He couldn’t take me on—that would be too dark, even for him, and people would talk. But he knew Johnny wanted power, was greedy for it. He knew if Johnny had control over the Russos, he could maintain control of Johnny. He wanted to give Johnny the Russos, Dante.”
“There’s no way. You were a baby. My family is poisoned by power, but—"
“You were, what, 15 when it happened? You might think you know everything, but you were left outside the truth, too.”
“And you were a newborn baby, Lilah. How do you know any better than I do?”
“I have my mom’s journals.”
“Lilah—" There is pity in his eyes, like he feels bad for me for believing some crazy conspiracy.
“Ask your father.” My words are firm, and the room goes cold. “He'll know, Dante. Tony couldn’t just put a hit on an heir on his own. Just think about it. It makes no sense. Only the Don could do something like that. Wouldn't that need approval?”
“There’s no way. The families—they would rebel. It would be utter chaos.”
“The Russos don’t know, not for sure at least. A drive-by, remember? I’ve looked at the police reports. They had no idea who it was until recently.”
In Dante’s eyes, the pieces are coming together, the math is adding up, and I'm watching his world fall apart.
“So what, you’re going to tell the Russos and let them destroy us?” He looks at me with near shock in his eyes.
“I don’t know, Dante! I jumped into this without looking. And then I got tangled with you, and you made it so much more complicated. I feel like I’m reliving the past, like we’re star-crossed lovers with a fucking sea of lies and deceit and blood between us. And yes, I want revenge. I want to make things right. I am mad. I am furious.” I step away from him, waving my hands around.
“This world is sick. It needs to stop. Who knows what else could happen? Marriage proposals for little girls, men being killed because of egos.” I start pacing in the entryway of the mansion, my mind reeling. “My sister, my sweet sister who has never wanted anything in this world other than to make everyone around her happy, was being tormented by your family for months. Years, even! And that ended in her almost being kidnapped. If Ben wasn’t there—” My words cut off, that lump coming into my throat the way it does every time I think of this. “We both had trusts. Mine went to school and setting me up for adulthood. Lola’s went to your family. Paying for my dad’s gambling debts.” His eye twitches.
“I’m not blaming you. But I am to blame. I know that. I spent ten years in denial of Shane's shady behavior, of Lola’s dedication and suffering. Of her sacrifice. I was protected because I was too delicate. Because the world was too dangerous for me. Because I couldn’t know the truth. And the worst part is Shane used that against Lola.”
I cringe, my stomach nauseous at the memories. “Lola went through that and I lived my life. It’s my turn. So yeah, I came here to make things even, to end the debts and make Shane unable to dig the hole again. But I also came because I lost something before I even knew it existed. This world?” I wave my arm around, not indicating the luxury or the glamor, but the family. The history and tradition. “I was meant to be here. To grow here. To reign here.”
“Your father. You said you were doing it for your father?”
I lick my lips.
The last secret.
The last secret that Lola doesn’t know.
My dad doesn’t know.
My mom may have known, but it died with her.
“He left me a letter,” I whisper. I’ve read it a million times, tracing the words with my fingers and trying to find some kind of connection to the man who made up half of me. Staring at the photo taken in secrecy of a young man completely overjoyed, holding a tiny baby in his arms.
Me.
It’s me.
