Page 59 of Forbidden Vengeance

I go still. “What game are you playing?”

“Game? I just find her…interesting.” Siobhan’s tone changes. “A simple party planner, they all said. Just another pretty face organizing galas. And yet here she is, bringing three of the most powerful families to their knees.”

“If you’re threatening her?—”

“Quite the opposite.” Siobhan’s laugh is surprisingly genuine. “I admire her style. Using their assumptions against them, playing the role they expect while building something entirely different. Very…clever.”

The penny drops. “Like using social events to modernize your father’s empire?”

“Finally catching up, are we?” I can hear her smile. “Who would suspect the vapid socialite daughter of revolution? The party planner of espionage?”

“Speak fucking English for once,” I snap, rubbing my temples. I can feel the start of a headache brewing.

“Fine. Here it is in simple terms: Elena reminds me of myself. And I protect what I recognize.” She pauses. “Especially when they’re carrying the next generation of our world.”

“Cut the cryptic bullshit, Siobhan.” I move away from Elena’s bed, keeping my voice low. “You building a shadow empirebehind daddy’s back isn’t exactly news. What I want to know is what the fuck you want with Elena.”

“Direct as always.” She sighs, as if I’m a particularly slow student. “I’m proposing an alliance. With her, not you—though unfortunately, you seem to be part of the package now.”

“An alliance.” The word tastes bitter. “And what exactly would that entail?”

“Elena has a particular talent for operating in plain sight. Moving through spaces the old guard doesn’t think to watch. Building networks they don’t even know exist.” There’s something like admiration in her voice. “Honestly, I wish she hadn’t gotten herself tangled up with you. You really do piss me off, Mario.”

I scoff. “Feeling’s mutual, princess.”

“But we can’t all have what we want, can we?” Her tone sharpens. “Your brother on some level, Calabrese, even my father—they’re dinosaurs fighting over territory while the world changes around them. Elena understands that. She’s been quietly revolutionizing how money moves through this city for years, all under the guise of charity galas and society events.”

I think of Elena’s meticulously planned fundraisers, her strategic seating arrangements that have brokered more peace deals than any formal sit-down. “And you want to what? Combine forces?”

“Like I said, I want to ensure the next generation has a future worth inheriting. The question is: are you going to stand in the way of that future, or help protect it?”

“I protect what matters,” I tell Siobhan flatly. “You know that after everything that’s happened.”

“Mmm, yes. Quite the show you’ve put on recently.” Her amusement grates on my nerves. “I’ll be in touch.”

She hangs up before I can respond. I stare at my phone, imagining all the ways I could make her regret her games and double meanings.

But then Elena stirs on the bed, and suddenly Siobhan O’Connor’s machinations seem irrelevant.

Those eyes focus on me—blue as ice but somehow warm, seeing everything I try to hide. Even exhausted, even hunted, they miss nothing. It’s what first drew me to her—that perfect balance of beauty and calculation.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, sitting down beside her.

“Fine.” She shifts, one hand still protective over her stomach. “But I need to know something. Something that’s been bothering me since Bella brought it up.” She takes a breath. “Tell me about Bianca. About that night. I need to understand.”

Dread pools in my belly. I’ve never talked about it—not to anyone, not even Marco or Dante. The memory lives like poison in my blood, a reminder of everything Giuseppe said I would become.

But Elena deserves the truth, especially now.

“I was so angry,” I begin, the words feeling like glass in my throat. “You don’t understand what it was like, growing up as Giuseppe’s mistake. His bastard. The son who should never have been born.”

I move to the window, unable to face Elena as the memories surface. “Matteo was perfect—legitimate, pure-blooded, everything a DeLuca heir should be. When we failed Giuseppe’s tests, I got the basement, the belt. Matteo got second chances. Private tutors. Understanding.”

My laugh carries an arctic chill. “Do you know what it’s like, watching your brother inherit an empire while you get table scraps? Knowing that no matter how hard you work, how loyal you are, you’ll never be more than the whore’s son?”

The words taste like copper and rage. “I planned it for months. The warehouse by the pier—where the rotting fish and diesel fuel would mask any screams. A shipping container modified just so…and sweet little Bianca in her navy school uniform, walking the same route home every day.”

My hands clench as I remember that night. “I called Matteo at midnight. Told him it was his turn to lose something precious. ‘Your empire or your daughter,’ I said. ‘Choose quickly—she’s running out of air.’”

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