I shot Arturo a glare sharp enough to cut.
He only snickered. "After all," he said mildly, "out of everyone here, you stand to gain the most out of his death."
The words struck low, but I refused to flinch.
"To even suggest that I'd do something like that," I said slowly, carefully, "to my own blood—"
"Save it," he cut in. His tone hardened. "I'll be right outside." His gaze lingered, assessing. "If you so much as breathe wrong, I'll know, piccola." Little one.
Then he turned and left, the door closing behind him with deliberate restraint, leaving me alone with the machines and the steady, unforgiving rhythm of my grandfather's heart.
Arturo was right about one thing, though.
If my grandfather died, I stood to gain the most.
At least on paper.
Though even that wasn't certain. He could have rewritten his will at any time, especially after Dario's death. After my failed mission. After everything I had cost him. Because in this world, favor was as fragile as loyalty.
The Ricci empire could only be unlocked by blood. Ricci blood. And there was only mine left.
I have no surviving cousins. No collateral branches. The family tree had been kept deliberately small, just so that limited blood would be spilled. Controlled.
Only my blood could secure their position. That was how it had been designed. The money, the connections, the entire machinery of the empire, everything flowed through us alone.
Which meant there was only one way to take the throne without me.
Whoever sat at the head of the Ricci empire would have to marry me to claim it.
Anything else would trigger collapse. The structure would fracture, the holdings unravel, and whoever inherited my grandfather's seat would be forced to rebuilt the empire piece by piece. Alone, exposed and bleeding.
And in this world, that was the closest thing to annihilation.
I moved closer to his bed, stopping only at the side. My hands clasped neatly behind my back, posture perfect. Obedient. I watched the rise and fall of his chest, the man who had once ruled through fear and precision, now reduced to numbers on a screen and breath borrowed from these machines.
He had dismantled my life, piece by piece. Had turned my family into weapons, my body into an instrument. He had taken my future, my child, and buried it before it could even begin.
Yet, he was still my blood. The only family I had left.
I leaned in, my mouth close to his ear, close enough that my words became breath. Whether he could hear me or not didn't matter. I just needed them said.
"Nonno," I whispered, my voice steady even as my chest tightened. "I'm home."
I paused, letting the machines fill the silence.
"Get better," I continued softly. "Fight this."
My lips curved, not in a smile but something sharper.
"Because I can't let you go so easily," I murmured, "not until you see the person you've created."
Later, I was already dressed in a gray tank top and leggings, my footsteps echoing softly as I crossed the empty training grounds and headed straight for the shooting range.
The last time I had been here, I had been restless. Bored, coiled tight with frustration. I was craving for a distraction after spending the night with Alex. Desperate to erase him.
I hadn't had my memories then.
Instead of stepping into one of the booths, I veered towards the observation room behind them. The one enclosed in bulletproof glass, overlooking the entire range. It was occupied now, the firing lanes filled with new recruits moving through drills with rigid focus.
And there she was.
"Camilla," I said, standing next to her. "I trust everything went well on your end?"
Camilla, Uncle Arturo's daughter, stood at the window, arms crossed over her chest as she watched them. She wore a bulletproof vest over a fitted long-sleeved shirt, paired with leggings that were meant for movement, not comfort. Her dark brown hair, streaked with blond, was pulled into a tight ponytail, her sharp blue eyes missing nothing.
"Welcome home," she said the moment she noticed me.
I stepped right up beside her. "I trust everything went well on your end?"
The last I heard, she had been cleaning house at one of our casinos. One that was hemorrhaging money instead of laundering it properly. The fact that she was back had told me everything I needed to know.
"Amazingly so," she said, a faint, satisfied smile tugging at her lips. Her gaze slid to me, slow and appraising. "Though I can't say the same for you, Isla. Especially after what happened with your engagement." A pause. "I heard you were getting married when it happened."
The memory hit without warning.
Alex ambushing us in the office. Dario about to leave. The sound of that gunshot. Loud and final. Then his blood, splattering all over my suit like a signature.
"I don't want to talk about it," I said, my voice tight as I drew in a measured breath.
Despite everything, Dario's death still sat heavy in my chest. He had been loyal to the end. And that loyalty had cost him his life. Because of me. Now that New York was mine, I couldn't help but wonder what had been done to it while I was gone. After all, it had been one of our largest territories, left to rot or be claimed.
Camilla shrugged, unbothered. "Fair," she said lightly. Then, with a sideways glance and a hint of a smirk, "Can't blame you, though. He was easy on the eyes."
I nodded, watching as one of the recruits hit the target, again and again. Each shot clean and precise. He was young, too. Dirty blond hair cropped short, dressed in black from head to toe. His built was small, lithe, made for slipping through tight spaces.
"That one's good," I said, tipping my chin toward him in the middle booth.
"Sergio," Camilla confirmed with a nod. "I recruited him myself. He worked under one of our underbosses. Natural shot." She tilted her head. "Not much of a fighter."
He reminded me of Joshua.
The thought hit hard, sharp and unwelcome. The betrayal. The way he had been dragged away. If he wasn't already dead or rotting somewhere in our basement, I would've done it myself.
"I was hoping you'd train him," Camilla said, pulling me back.
"Sergio?" I echoed.
"Who else?"
I looked at him again, really looked this time. At the way he moved. Focused. Controlled. I wondered if I could shape him into something more. I had never trained anyone like this before, at least not properly.
I wondered what Alex would think.
"I'll think about it," I said at last. Then, after a beat, "Though you should bring him to the club with us tonight."
It would do him good. To be seen, tested, morphed into the right kind of loyalty. Men like that were hard to come by these days anyway. Harder to keep.
Camilla grinned, slow and knowing, her eyes flicking back to Sergio, before returning to me.
"Knew you still had it in you," she said.
And the way she said it told me she wasn't talking about training.