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“Not enough.”

“What did her father tell her?”

“Very little. He kept her out of it until keeping her out became near impossible.”

“Convenient.”

“He was trying to protect her.”

“Maybe. Or maybe he was trying to protect himself.”

I said nothing.

The same doubt had been sitting inside me since the first time Adriana looked at me and realised the father she had mourned had been hiding secrets from her all along.

At that moment, I wasn’t exactly Gabriele Serra’s biggest admirer. And I wasn’t sure that was fair. A dead man couldn’t defend himself. He couldn’t explain his choices or tell us why he had kept the truth buried for so long.

But none of that changed what he had left behind. Adriana had inherited his secrets. His enemies and his lies. And the blood of a past she had never asked to carry.

Whether Gabriele had meant to protect her or simply protect himself, she was the one left to live with the consequences.

Zeno saw the answer on my face before I gave it to him.

“You’re not sure.”

“No.”

“What do you know?”

I leaned back, staring across the pool. “Gabriele worked close enough to Coccico money to stumble across something he was never supposed to see. Whatever it was, it was serious enough to get him killed.”

“And Gabriele went to the police?”

“He took what he had to the police.” I paused. “He was dead within days.”

Zeno’s expression hardened.

“Then either he went to the wrong officer,” he said, “or the wrong officer was already waiting for him.”

“Both are possible.”

His gaze drifted toward the pool, following the slow movement of the water beneath the afternoon sun.

“And the café?”

“They found us too quickly.”

“No one knew your route?”

“No one knew where we were going. And we definitely weren’t followed.”

“You were tracked.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I assumed it was the GPS in the car I took from the church.”