Page 40 of Forbidden Vengeance

Marco had put Sofia on speaker when we were brainstorming how to get Elena out.

“Does she have any family?” Sofia had asked. “Anyone I could impersonate?”

I’d drawn a blank, realizing I knew almost nothing about Elena’s background. Her family had never seemed relevant to our plans. “I…don’t know.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sofia’s disgust had crackled through the phone. “You’re sleeping with her and you don’t even know her family history?”

“Just find something,” I’d growled, annoyed at how Sofia had twisted this.

“Give me five minutes.” Keys had clicked rapidly in the background. “Got it. Her father—Richard Santiago, deceased five years ago—had a sister named Maria. Maria has a nineteen-year-old daughter, Jenna Santiago, currently enrolled at NYU.” More typing. “Well, what do you know? Little Jenna’s got brown curly hair, brown eyes…I could pass for her.”

“You found this how?” I’d asked, unsure if I should be impressed or concerned.

“Please.” Sofia’s eye roll had been audible. “Social media, death records, college enrollment…it’s not exactly Fort Knox. The real Jenna Santiago is currently posting Instagram stories from Central Park.”

“It won’t be enough,” Marco had warned. “Matteo won’t let Elena leave without proof.”

“Already on it. Marco, call your guy at the DMV. I need a driver’s license that’ll pass inspection. And find me everything you can about this family—birth records, old photos, any detail that could trip me up.”

Now, waiting for them to arrive, I have to admit the plan was brilliant. Sofia had memorized the Santiago family tree in under an hour, created a backstory that matched public records, even studied Jenna’s social media to perfect her mannerisms.

“Your sister’s terrifying,” I tell Marco.

He grins. “You have no idea. Remember when she convinced that cop she was the mayor’s niece?”

“She was twelve,” I say fondly. Sofia was the sister I never had.

“Exactly. Now imagine what she can do at nineteen. She’s going to run circles around Matteo.”

I resume pacing the penthouse when both Marco’s phone and mine buzz simultaneously. We dive for them, opening the group chat from Sofia:

Mission accomplished! Got her out easy peasy. No anthrax btw (duh). You should have seen me work Matteo DeLuca. Oscar-worthy performance if I do say so myself :-)

Marco whoops. “What did I tell you? My sister’s the best.”

Good work. Get here quickly, I text back.

Wow, try to contain your enthusiasm there, old man. I’ll take that as a thank you.

My hands shake slightly as I wait for the elevator. When it finally dings, my knees nearly buckle at the sight of Elena—pale but alive, still wearing that hospital gown under a borrowed coat. Sofia stands next to her, practically vibrating with self-satisfaction.

“What the hell are you doing in New York again?” Elena demands, her relief at seeing me quickly morphing into anger. “If O’Connor finds out?—”

“I left him.” The words come out like a declaration of war. “Permanently.”

Elena’s eyes go wide. Even Sofia’s smug expression falters.

“Are you insane?” Elena’s voice rises. “He’ll kill you. He’ll?—”

“Let him try.” I move closer, unable to stop myself from touching her face, needing to feel that she’s real. “I’m done being his attack dog.”

“Well, this is getting spicy,” Sofia stage-whispers to her brother.

Marco grabs her arm. “And that’s our cue. We’ll talk later,” he tells me, dragging his protesting sister toward the elevator.

“But I want to see how this plays out!” Sofia whines.

“Out. Now.” Marco’s voice fades as the elevator doors close on them.

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