Page 58 of Porcelain Lies

“Have you been drinking,cara?”

“I’m serious.” My fingers dig into my palm. “I’ll sign whatever papers you want. Set up a payment plan—”

“Three hundred thousand?” His voice drips with condescension. “And what could my perfect, proper Stella do with that kind of money? Finally developing expensive tastes now that you’ve thrown away the real thing?”

“It’s not for me.” The words scrape my throat. “It’s for—”

“Ah, let me guess. Your junkie brother finally crawled out of whatever hole he’s been hiding in?”

My stomach lurches. The casual way he mentions Nick tells me he knows more than he should.

“How did you-?”

“Please,cara.” I can picture his dismissive hand wave. “You think I don’t know exactly what kind of trouble little Nico’sgotten himself into? Who do you think has been watching him dig his grave deeper and deeper?”

The implications hit me. Gianni knows about Nick’s theft. About Aleksei Tarasov. About all of it.

“You’ve known this whole time?” My voice shakes. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Why would I?” His tone turns sharp. “You made it very clear you wanted nothing to do with me. Besides, your brother made his choices. Let him face the consequences.”

I sink to the floor, phone pressed to my ear. The pieces click together — Nick’s nervousness whenever Gianni was around, the way he’d dodge questions about work. He didn’t want me to know what they were up to.

“How long?” The words barely make it past my lips.

“Months.” Gianni’s voice holds no sympathy. “Your precious brother has been skimming money, thinking he was so clever. As if nobody would notice.”

My chest feels too tight to breathe. “And you just… let him?”

“I was curious how far he’d go.” Gianni’s tone turns cold. “But then he got greedy. Started stealing from Tarasov directly.”

The name sends ice through my veins. Even half-asleep on my couch, Nick flinches at the sound.

“Aleksei Tarasov doesn’t forgive,cara.” Gianni’s words carry weight I hadn’t felt before. “He doesn’t negotiate. He doesn’t show mercy. Your brother is already dead — he just doesn’t know it yet.”

The gravity of Nick’s situation crashes over me.

“Please.” The word tastes like acid. “He’s my brother. I’ll do whatever it takes. Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” Gianni’s voice drops lower, intimate in a way that makes my skin crawl. “That’s quite an offer,cara. Especially from someone who wouldn’t even return my calls.”

I press my forehead against my knees, fighting back nausea. “This isn’t about us, Gianni.”

“No? Then what is it about? Your junkie brother who chose drugs over attending your parents’ funerals?”

The jab hits its mark. Nick’s absence at both services still aches like an open wound. But I can’t let Gianni’s cruelty distract me.

“Name your terms.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “Interest rates, payment schedule, collateral—”

“Oh, Stella.” His laugh cuts deep. “You think I want your money? What could you possibly offer that would be worth three hundred thousand?”

“Then what do you want?”

“Maybe I want you to beg.” The words slither through the phone. “Maybe I want you on your knees, admitting how wrong you were to walk away.”

My stomach heaves. “Fine.” I swallow hard. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left. Is that what you need to hear?”

“It’s a start.” His satisfaction burns. “But words are cheap,cara. I need something more… substantial.”

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