Page 155 of The Cost of Silence

Orlov’s eyes narrow. “She was supposed to be indisposed,” he says.

“Turns out I’m very stubborn,” I say.

He gives a small, almost respectful nod. “So I see.”

Domenico takes us in, gaze lingering on the soot on my face, the singe marks on my sweater, the way Nico stands slightly in front of me.

“You just can’t follow instructions, can you?” he says. “I set the stage, I give you a choice, and you come early through the back door.”

“You kidnapped my woman and tried to kill my friend,” Nico says calmly. “You don’t get to complain about my entrance.”

“She walked out of that fire,” Domenico says, almost admiring. “I underestimated you, Isabella.”

“Everyone does,” I reply. “It’s my favorite thing about me.”

“And you.” He looks at Nico. “You walk in here with a gun, thinking you’re your father, ready to make the hard call. Do you even know what that looks like? What it costs?”

“I’ve spent my whole life learning what it costs,” Nico says. “I buried him. I buried Ma. I buried men who followed us into a new life because Papà promised them it would be better. I’ve watched you peel pieces off that promise, one by one, because you can’t stand that he built something without you.”

Domenico scoffs. “He didn’t build anything without me.”

“He did,” Nico says. “He built us. He and Ma. They raised us to aim for something else. You were the reminder of everything they didn’t want us to be.”

“And yet here you are,” Domenico sneers, gesturing to the gun. “Pointing that at your uncle like any good son of the house.”

Nico steps closer, slow, deliberate. His eyes are dark, but there’s a clarity in them I haven’t seen before, like something has settled instead of snapped when he glances my way. “You’re not my uncle,” he says quietly. “Not anymore. Maybe not ever.”

Domenico’s jaw tightens.

“My uncle wouldn’t have used a child’s grief to twist a narrative,” Nico continues. “He wouldn’t have tried to burn a woman alive because she was no longer useful to him. He wouldn’t have walked into a hospital and left a note on a man who took a bullet meant for me. He wouldn’t have betrayed his own sister’s wishes because his ego was louder than his love.”

“You don’t know what your father wanted,” Domenico says. “You think he told you everything? He died with secrets you couldn’t handle.”

“And one of those secrets is that you killed her father and he didn’t stop you,” Nico says. He nods toward me. “We know. We all know now. And we’ll live with that. We’ll carry it. But we’re not letting you use it as proof that he was you.”

“You think you’re better than me,” Domenico spits.

“I know I am,” Nico says, without heat. “Because I had her in my bed, in my home, in my arms, knowing what you did, and I chose to protect her instead of twist her into a weapon. I chose to clean up your mess without turning it into another excuse to be you.”

He lifts the gun slowly until it’s level with Domenico’s chest. Hands raise all around the warehouse, including Matteo’s and Adriano’s. A stand-off that will only end in bloodshed. My gut clenches in fear. God, this isn’t how I want to die.

“You can blame Papà for your empty hands,” he says. “You can blame us, blame the board, blame the world. But this? This is yours. Every piece of it. The men you killed. The deals you made. The fires you lit. It ends with you.”

“You won’t shoot me,” Domenico says, but there’s a thread of something uncertain in it.

“Why not?” Nico asks.

“Because your mother would—”

“Would be ashamed of you,” Nico cuts in. “Not of me. She loved you, Domenico, but she knew you were weak. Knew how jealous you were that she took your place in our father’s affections.”

“He was my friend first, and she stole him.”

Nico shakes his head and huffs out a laugh. “You don’t steal a friendship, Domenico. She made you a real family and yet all you saw was what you thought you were losing.”

Domenico slices his hand through the air. “No. He stopped listening to me once she got her hooks into him.”

Nico turns to Orlov, who is looking uneasy, and I know what Nico is doing now. I see his plan in my mind.