The morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains in my bedroom, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floor, but it felt too bright for the weight in my chest. I hadn't slept. Not really. I'd spent the night tossing beneath my sheets, eyes fixed on the ceiling while my mind replayed every word, every look, every breath from yesterday.
Luca's voice still echoed inside me—rough and cutting, but almost desperate beneath the surface. And yet, even now, as I curled my fingers into the sheets, I knew I had done the right thing by walking away.
At least, that's what I kept telling myself.
I climbed out of bed slowly, dragging my feet across the floor toward the kitchen. The apartment was too quiet, the kind of quiet that made you feel like something was coming. I brewed a cup of coffee just to hear something. Steam rose from the mug, curling around my fingers as I held it between both hands, trying to anchor myself in the mundane.
That's when I saw it.
An email.
From an anonymous sender.
Subject: "You Need to See This."
My stomach clenched. I clicked.
Attached was a series of photos—grainy but clear enough to recognize the figures. One was of Matteo. My brother. Another was a shot of him entering what looked like a discreet building downtown. The timestamp was from three nights ago, around the same time the warehouse Luca's men had been using for an arms drop was hit. The final photo?
Matteo shaking hands with someone I didn't recognize… but the man's face screamed danger. Scar along his cheek, cigarette between his fingers, and eyes cold as death.
I set the mug down too fast. Coffee sloshed over the side, burning my hand. I barely felt it.
No. No, no, no.
This had to be a mistake. Matteo would never... he couldn't be involved in something like that. Could he?
I was still standing there, heart racing, when my phone buzzed on the counter.
Ryan.
Perfect timing, my mind whispered. Too perfect.
"Bella. I told you he was hiding something. Meet me. We need to talk — now."
I stared at the message, bile rising in my throat.
I didn't reply right away. I needed answers first.
I pulled up my brother's call log. My hands trembled as I skimmed the entries. He had made several calls to an unlisted number… the same night as the warehouse incident. The same night Luca had gone dark on me.
I closed my eyes, fighting off the wave of betrayal threatening to knock me over. Matteo had always been the constant in my life—the solid rock I could lean on. And now, he was the one being tied to something that could destroy everything.
But still... something didn't add up.
If Matteo was working against Luca—hell, if he was in any kind of alliance with men like the one in that photo—then why hadn't I felt it? He was tense lately, yes, but he always had his secrets. That came with being a Romano. But this? This felt orchestrated. It felt… planted.
I forced myself to get dressed and head out, needing fresh air, clarity, something to help me breathe again. My steps led me toward the coffee shop Ryan mentioned yesterday. Every part of me screamed that I shouldn't go, but I needed answers.
Ryan was already there when I arrived.
He stood the moment he saw me, his expression molded into concern. Too molded. His hand brushed the back of my chair as I sat down, like he always did, pretending to be comforting when really, he was always watching.
I didn't bother with small talk.
"I got an email," I said. "Photos of Matteo. A building. A man I don't know. It doesn't look good."
He blinked slowly, like he wasn't surprised. Like he was waiting for me to say it.
"Did it have timestamps?" he asked, voice careful.
I nodded.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I didn't want to be the one to show you that, Bella. But I knew you'd find out eventually. He's been hiding something. And he's dangerous, especially to someone like you."
I swallowed hard, unsure if it was fear or fury building in my throat.
"You think my brother's a traitor?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
Ryan didn't answer right away. He reached into his coat and pulled out a flash drive. "Everything you need to know is on here."
I stared at the silver piece of plastic. It felt like a loaded weapon between us.
"Where did you get it?" I asked.
"A source," he said, too quickly. "Someone who wants Luca gone just as badly."
That was when the chill crept up my spine. The way he said Luca's name—like it left a bad taste in his mouth. Like it wasn't just about me anymore.
I took the drive but didn't move to plug it in. Something was off.
Ryan leaned back, sipping his coffee as if the world wasn't about to collapse around me.
"I know this is hard," he said. "But sometimes, the people closest to us are the ones hiding the deepest secrets."
That sat wrong with me. It sounded rehearsed. Like he'd been waiting to plant those words inside my head.
I left the café without saying anything else, the flash drive burning a hole in my pocket.
Back in my apartment, I plugged it into my laptop with trembling fingers. The screen filled with documents, surveillance footage, call logs—all painting Matteo as a man living a double life.
But even as I scrolled through them, piecing the puzzle together, a quiet voice inside me whispered: It's too perfect.
The evidence looked real. Too real.
No loose ends. No flaws. No inconsistencies.
Except for the fact that I knew my brother. And he wasn't stupid enough to leave a trail this clean.
I pulled up the email again. Scanned the headers. Looked at the IP.
Encrypted.
Hidden.
Someone had gone out of their way to make this look official. And if there was one person I knew who could do that—someone with access, with motive—it wasn't Matteo.
It was Ryan.
The realization didn't fully form, not yet. It hovered just beneath the surface, not ready to bloom. But I felt it.
This wasn't about Matteo. This was about someone trying to make it about him.
To turn me against my brother. To shake my loyalty. And suddenly, I saw Ryan's concern for what it truly was—calculated, rehearsed, and perfectly timed.
I leaned back in my chair, pulse racing, every instinct inside me tightening like a coil.
I didn't know what this meant yet. I didn't know how deep this went.
But something was wrong.
I had spent the entire day second-guessing Luca, questioning Matteo. But what if I had been looking in the wrong direction? What if the real enemy wasn't the man I was running from? What if he was the one I had trusted all along?
And I was going to find out exactly what.