Page 138 of The Hitman's Secret Baby
I want to catch the lie forming in his throat before it has time to twist itself into charm.
Giovanni is not in his rooms. Not anywhere in the main estate. Not where he claimed he would be.
But I find him eventually, near the eastern wall of the north garden, that opens to the sea, where the vines have overgrown the archway and the old swing creaks in the wind.
He is crouched beside the fountain, one knee bent, one hand skimming the surface of the water as if trying to remember a version of himself that once felt clean.
"Gio."
He looks up. His expression is not startled, but it is not welcoming either.
"Enzo," he says, rising slowly to his feet. "I thought you'd be with the others. Still searching."
"I am."
A pause.
"You look like a ghost," he says lightly. "Has the boy said anything new?"
"No. He only cried. Called for her. Told me she promised she'd be there when he woke."
Something flickers in Giovanni's eyes.
Not remorse. Not concern.
Something else.
The gleam of a man who already knows what has happened but is pretending to still be part of the search.
"Where were you last night?"
He smiles faintly. "You know where I was. I couldn't go to Florence because the boss summoned me, so I was with him. Went over shipment ledgers. Then the phone lines—there was an issue with the port logs from Altavilla. Ask anyone."
His voice carries that same easy rhythm it always has, polished and mild, the cadence of a man used to being believed.
I step closer, boots crunching over gravel, and let the silence sharpen around us like glass drawn too tight. "I'm asking you."
My voice is low, stripped of every pretense.
I don't give him the out of looking to someone else. I want his truth.
He licks his lips, slowly.
Blinks like it bothers him that I didn't just let that answer sit. "Why are you looking at me like that, Enzo? As if I had anything to do with her vanishing."
I reply quietly. "Because something stinks. And I've known you too long to pretend I don't notice when your smile starts to curdle."
Giovanni tilts his head. "You think I would hurt her? After all this time? After all I've done for this family?"
"I think you're hiding something. And I think you've been playing a game only you know the rules to."
His eyes harden, and something inside him splinters. I see it.
"I've always stood beside you," he says, his voice strained now. "Even when others whispered that you'd gone soft. Even when they said you were more loyal to a ghost of a girl than to the blood that raised you."
"You're not blood."
His eyes begin glowing, but the light is ugly. "Neither was she. And yet you'd burn for her."
