Page 16 of Silent Night with Massimo

Who is he talking to? Someone who works for the Vitale family? The biggest rival to Massimo and all of his allies. Why would Elio be passing a message to a Vitale associate?

My heart beats so loud I am convinced he is going to hear it and realize that I can hear him.

I rush back to the bed and pull the blanket over myself when he starts walking toward the window. If he looks inside hopefully he won't be able to see anything.

But he turns away again, muttering something I can't hear. I listen closely until his footsteps are gone then I let out a heavy breath of air I didn't know I was holding in.

It is Elio.

It has always been Elio.

What other evidence could I possibly need?

It was him all those years ago and it's still him today. He is still working with our enemies, and I have no idea what he is planning now but it can't be good.

I need to speak to Massimo again. I have to convince him to believe me. It isn't only about me anymore. It's not about me wanting to prove my innocence and find my son - now this involves the entire family. If Elio is working with a Vitale to plan an attack or something against the Luciana family - it would be devastating.

No one would expect it now over the holidays - during the truce.

I wait up long after the party is over upstairs, hoping that when Adrian brings my dinner I can convince him toget Massimo to see me - but when I hear the heavy footsteps coming towards the cellar door I know it's not Adrian this time.

The door swings open, and Massimo steps inside, carrying a plate of hot food. It's more than Adrian ever brings me—he usually tosses me scraps, as if that's all I'm worth. But Massimo has brought me a proper meal. The rich aroma of roasted meats, warm bread, and Christmas spices fills the cold room, teasing my senses. My stomach growls, twisting with hunger, desperate to devour the feast.

The sight of it—so indulgent, so much more than I deserve—makes me wonder what Massimo is thinking. Why is he offering me more than just food? Is this a twisted kindness, or is he testing me? My heart pounds, torn between the craving for sustenance and the bitter memory of the man who exiled me.

But I have to focus on telling Massimo what I know first.

I stand up and the blanket falls to the floor.

"Massimo, it is Elio." I say hurriedly. "I heard him on the phone earlier - walking outside the window. He was talking to someone linked to a Vitale."

"Vera…" he sighs, sounding exhausted. Massimo places the plate of food on the bed. "Not this again, not now, please. I've had a long day."

"Yes, actually, this again. And again. And again. Until you fucking wake up and realize I am telling the truth. Just look into it. Please. I am begging you. Not even for me – but for everyone you love – everyone upstairs right now. Youowe it to them to keep them safe and I am warning you something is going to happen."

"Eat something. You look thin. We'll talk tomorrow."

He turns away from me. The way he moves I can see how tired he is.

"Please, Massimo I heard him on the phone."

I run towards the door just as he closes it.

"I heard him," I shout again through it.

Chapter 8

Massimo

At dinner the next night, I couldn't stop watching him. Every move, every word—I'm overanalyzing it all. Elio is my family, my blood, but the suspicion Vera planted in my mind won't let go. It eats away at me, making me question everything.

What if she's right? What if Elio isn't the man I think he is? If something were to happen to my family and I ignored the warnings… I'd never forgive myself.

There's no harm in looking into him, right? Just to clear my head. Just to make sure. Trust is earned, even within the family.

Elio has always hated that I was named Don. I've known that. I've felt the bitterness in his eyes, the jealousy that's burned between us for years. But could he really have been jealous enough to betray me? To work with the enemy?

The thought alone is suffocating, dark, and ominous.It's one thing to compete for power within the family, but to betray us—to betray me—that's unthinkable. Yet, the pieces are starting to fit in a way I can't ignore. It twists my gut to imagine that my own flesh and blood could be plotting against me, against all of us.

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