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The room feels smaller, thick with unspoken truths.
“The family can’t afford sentimentality.” Lorenzo adjusts his cuff links after he speaks, a calm, practiced gesture from a man who’s outlived two bosses and twice as many wars.
Another mutters, “We can’t afford recklessness either.”
It’s a verdict disguised as a debate.
Gabi leans forward, his fingers steepled. “You’re valuable, Enzo, but not irreplaceable.” The words land like gravel against bone. “Effective immediately, you’re relieved of command over your unit. Vito will assume interim oversight.”
My jaw locks, and blood roars in my ears. Stripped of rank…humiliated in front of everyone. But the real blow? They’re cutting my access, my protection. Sophia just became even more vulnerable.
A few men avoid my gaze as murmurs of approval fill the room, restoring the balance.
I offer no protest, no plea. Just quiet acceptance.
They’ve taken my power, not my purpose. Power can be rebuilt. Purpose burns forever. And Sophia’s my priority.
When the meeting ends, the room empties quickly. Only Rocco and Vito linger.
Rocco scratches his jaw, uncomfortable. “Boss…sorry, Enzo. It’s politics. Not personal.”
I inhale through my nose. “Everything’s personal.”
Vito considers me carefully before giving me a subtle nod. “We may need to rethink some things. Starting with what makes a good leader.”
Rocco grunts his agreement. Not a ringing endorsement, but I’ll take it. Vito and Rocco are starting to see Gabi’s faults more clearly, and I can sense their loyalty shifting.
As the men shuffle out, Nonna Rosa emerges from a shadow I hadn’t noticed. Her gaze meets mine.
Her expression carries no judgment. Just weary understanding. “You’re your father’s son. That’s both your curse and your weapon.”
Outside, the air bites colder. Stars blink like distant eyes that no longer care.
In my pocket, my phone buzzes. Marco’s message flashes across the screen.
Izzy might have said something to Sophia. Just saw them together, and Sophia walked off looking upset.
A hollow weight settles in my chest. Another fire to put out.
Gabi wanted this. Isolation. He planted doubt in both worlds, politics and love. Clever move.
Not clever enough, though.
I light my second cigarette in a week, my mind whirling. The demotion cuts deep, but I tell myself this also loosens the chains. Gabi will probably have fewer men watching me now, and with less oversight, I can move undetected more easily.
I’ve learned that shadows can mean freedom. I have to let the humiliation fuel the strategy that gets me out of this.
I walk the perimeter of the mini villa, tracing escape routes, counting cameras. Every dark corner feels like an ally tonight.
When I reach her room, I stop. Light spills beneath the frame, a soft gold against the dark.
I ease the door open just enough to see her breathing slowly and evenly, with the wedding ring I gave her glinting faintly in the lamplight. For a long moment, I just stand here, the ache in my chest too heavy for words. The urge to go in and confess everything hums under my skin.
Instead, I turn away.
Not yet. I won’t tell her about Miami, about finding her father, about walking into his trap or enduring that torture. Not until the board resets. Not until Vincent is ash and Izzy learns what real fear tastes like.
Demoted, yes. But ghosts navigate better in silence.
