Page 66 of The Shadow King's Brother

"Toodles. What a great way to do it—kidnapping, torture, murder," I spit.

She sighs, then grins. "Most of that was Eddie's idea."

What the hell?

I narrow my eyes. "Why do you listen to him? He's just a—boy."

I can't help myself. This woman—this stranger wearing my mother's face—has twisted everything I thought I knew about family.

Her lips twitch, and for a second, I think she might smile. But then she laughs—low, dark, mocking.

"Oh, Eddie?" She tilts her head slightly. "My lover. He'd do anything for me. And I do mean anything."

She steps back, smoothing the front of her dress.

I don't need her to say more. I already know what she means. Eddie's her puppet. The thought sickens me. But somehow, I have a feeling it's the other way around…

I swallow hard. "Be careful." My voice is hoarse. "He's… dangerous."

She chuckles. "Oh, darling, I'm well aware. But he's useful, and I'm quite good at keeping men like him in line. He's not the problem. Elio is. The De Luca family is."

Her face shifts, the mask slipping just slightly. Anger. Grief. It lingers in the tight pull of her brows, in the sharpness of her jaw.

I know that look too well—the ache of losing my father.

I bite down hard on my lip, tasting blood. My hands curl into weak fists.

"Why didn't you come to me?" My voice cracks. "After Papa—we could have… we could have—"

"Could have what?" she snaps. "He was already gone, Victoria. No amount of tears would bring him back."

Her jaw tightens like she's just given away too much.

"We…" My throat burns. "We could have cried. Together."

For a moment, the silence stretches too long. I remember my father's scent, his arm pulling me in after a nightmare, and his deep, steady voice when the world felt like it was caving in.

I clench my teeth. Hard.

She exhales, slow and sharp. Then, her gaze hardens again, the moment gone.

"I don't cry, Victoria," she murmurs. "I act. I get things done. Just like I built my business, and now, I will avenge your father."

"You don't understand," I murmur. "You can't just kill him, Elio. You can't—"

"You think I haven't thought this through?" She interrupts, her eyes hardening. Her hand falls from my shoulder, but not before she strokes my hair tenderly like she's trying to break me.

The irony burns. She wants to be my mother, but she doesn't give a damn about me. She wants Elio dead, and I know she'll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

How did we get here from having coffee?

I stand, finally meeting her gaze. "You're sick. You think you can control everything—everyone. But you're wrong. You won't get away with this."

For a second, just a fraction of a second, I see something shift in her eyes. Doubt? Regret? But then it's gone, masked by that coldness again.

"Oh, but I will. And the De Luca's won't know what hit them–"

Her hand is on my cheek again, this time softer than before, but it feels worse. She leans in, close enough that I can smell the perfume on her neck, the artificial sweetness of it.

---