Page 54 of The Seventh Circle
Their voices drifted from a room ahead—not the formal tones of business discussion but the intimate cadence of private conversation. I edged closer, staying in shadow.
"—documentation is almost ready," Lorenzo was saying. "How's your father handling the idea of moving? Is he still hesitant?"
"Papa worries about his health," Romano replied, his voice tinged with frustration. "He doesn't believe he can manage the journey, let alone start fresh in a new city."
"I can arrange a private compartment on the train, the most comfortable passage possible," Lorenzo said. "And I've been researching doctors in Milano who specialize in cases like his."
"It's not just the travel. He's proud, Lorenzo. The idea of his son supporting the family already wounds him. Moving north on your charity..."
"It's not charity," Lorenzo insisted. "The workshop would be his—yours together. I'm merely providing the initial investment."
I frowned. Workshop? What kind of establishment could Lorenzo possibly be planning? He had no practical skills beyond those required for our business.
"Have you spoken with Enzo about Milano's mathematics academy?" Lorenzo asked.
"I've mentioned it. He's intrigued but skeptical. Says it sounds too good to be true."
"We have seven days to convince them all," Lorenzo said, urgency in his voice. "The lease begins at month's end, and I'vearranged for funds to be transferred to northern banks. My father would never think to look there."
My blood chilled. This wasn't merely an escape—it was a carefully orchestrated defection, planned with meticulous attention to detail. Lorenzo wasn't just abandoning his responsibilities; he was creating an entirely new life, one that deliberately excluded his family. And he was still working to bring Romano's family into his scheme.
I shifted position to see them more clearly and froze at the sight. They stood near a broken window, moonlight casting their profiles in silver. Lorenzo's hand rested against Romano's face with unmistakable tenderness, their foreheads nearly touching as they spoke. I'd seen many things in my years of service to the Benedetto family, but never had I witnessed Lorenzo—proud, reserved Lorenzo—looking at anyone with such naked vulnerability.
"Seven more days," Lorenzo murmured. "Seven days and we'll be free, if we can just convince your father."
Romano's response was to close the distance between them, their lips meeting in a kiss that confirmed my worst suspicions.
I withdrew silently, rage and disgust warring with practical consideration. The heir to the Benedetto family was not only planning to abandon his position but was involved in a perversion that would destroy our family's standing if discovered.
Outside, I leaned against the garden wall, organizing my thoughts. Uncle Salvatore needed to know—but timing was critical. Handled incorrectly, this could become public knowledge, damaging the family irreparably. If Lorenzo fled before we could contain the situation, rumors would follow. Questions would be asked about why the heir had abandoned his position and his engagement.
The Vitelli alliance would collapse. Rivals would senseweakness. Everything Uncle Salvatore had built would be jeopardized by his son's selfish deviancy.
I lit a cigarette, watching smoke curl into the night air. Lorenzo had always been soft in ways that worried Uncle Salvatore—too thoughtful, too hesitant with necessary violence. I'd defended my cousin over the years, arguing that his intelligence compensated for these weaknesses.
I'd been wrong. Lorenzo wasn't merely soft; he was fundamentally flawed.
As I walked back toward the Benedetto compound, my course became clear. I would not immediately tell Uncle Salvatore what I'd witnessed. The shock might prompt hasty, public action—precisely what we needed to avoid.
Instead, I would dismantle their plans piece by piece. Create obstacles they couldn't anticipate. Ensure their escape route vanished before they could take it. Monitor their communications, track their movements, intercept any arrangements they attempted to make.
Then, when Lorenzo was properly isolated, I would present Uncle Salvatore with options for containing the damage.
After all, I'd spent my life protecting the Benedetto family from threats. If that threat now came from within, my duty remained unchanged.
Lorenzo had made his choice. Now he would face the consequences.
LORENZO
I approached the bank on Via dei Condotti, straightening my tie as the doorman bowed in recognition. The marble floors gleamed beneath my polished shoes, a testamentto respectability that had once felt suffocating but now represented a vital resource for our escape.
"Signor Benedetto, welcome." The bank manager, Signor Alberti, emerged from his office with the practiced deference he reserved for our family. "How may I assist you today?"
"I've come about the transfer we discussed last week," I said quietly. "To the northern branch."
His smile faltered slightly. "Ah, yes. If you would step into my office..."
Something in his manner set alarm bells ringing. I followed him into the wood-paneled room, waiting until he closed the door before speaking.
