Salvatore's POV
I waited for Alessandro to arrive.
When he pulled into the driveway, I went outside to meet him. He looked worried, and he had dark circles under his eyes.
"Bro," I said as we hugged.
He stepped back and looked at me. "What's going on, Sal? You sounded spooked."
I nodded. "Mama's waiting for us."
The tires crunched over the gravel as I pulled into the old Esposito estate.
Alessandro had barely waited for the car to stop before slamming the door shut and stalking toward the entrance.
"What the hell is going on, Sal?" he growled, shoving his hands through his hair.
"You drag me out of bed in the middle of the night, this better be business, because if it's not…"
"It's not business," I said evenly.
He froze.
I opened the trunk, grabbed his bag, and threw it at him. He caught it, confusion darkening his face.
"Then what is it?"
Before I could answer, the front door opened.
Our mother stood there.
The small lamp behind her cast a soft golden halo, but her face was tight, her eyes fierce and exhausted.
She had her rosary wound around her fingers, as if she had been sitting awake like that for hours, waiting for her sons.
"Buongiorno," she said, kissing both of us on the cheek.
"Mama," we replied, hugging her.
"Sit, sit," she said, gesturing to the kitchen table. "I made coffee."
We sat down, and she poured us each a cup.
She sat, but her back was straight as steel. "Where is Francesca?"
"She's on her way," I replied. "Andrew is bringing her."
She nodded once, then her eyes landed on me. "Tell your brother."
"Cesca is pregnant."
The crash was loud, Alessandro had knocked over the glass coaster on the table.
"What?" His voice cracked. "Pregnant? By who? Tell me who."
I took a deep breath. "Francesca is pregnant. With Massimo's child."
Alessandro stared at me, face draining of color, then turning violently red.
"Massimo Domenico?" His voice rose. "You mean that bastard? Sal, I swear to God.."
Alessandro's eyes widened, and his face turned red with anger. He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "That fucker," he snarled. "I'm going to kill him."
My mother grabbed his arm. "Alessandro, calm down. Sit."
He glared at her, but he slowly sat back down. "Sal, what the fuck? How did this happen?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. But it did. And now we have to deal with it."
Alessandro slammed his fist on the table. "I'll fucking kill him before he even thinks about touching my sister or her baby."
My mother sighed. "We can't just go around killing people, Alessandro. We need to be smart about this."
Alessandro glared at her. "What do you suggest then, huh? We just sit back and let him hurt Francesca and her baby?"
She turned to me, her expression unreadable. "How far along is she?"
"I don't know yet," I said quietly. "We'll find out tomorrow."
Mama pressed her rosary to her lips, whispering something under her breath.
The doorbell rang, and my mother stood up. "That must be Francesca."
Alessandro and I stood up too, and we followed our mother to the front door.
When she opened it, Francesca was standing there with Andrew behind her. She looked pale and nervous, and her hands were trembling.
Andrew guided Francesca in gently. She looked small. Fragile. Tear-swollen eyes, trembling hands clutching her coat.
"Come here, amore."
"Francesca," our mother said, opening her arms for a hug. Francesca walked into them, and our mother held her tight. "Oh, mia cara. Come inside. We will talk."
Francesca didn't walk, she collapsed into mother's arms, sobbing quietly. Mama held her like she was trying to shield her from the world itself.
Andrew closed the door behind us. "I'll be in the living room," he said quietly.
We went into the kitchen and sat back down at the table. Francesca looked at Alessandro and me, her eyes welling up with tears.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
"We are not angry with you, cara," Mama whispered into her hair. "We are angry with the world trying to hurt you."
Alessandro swallowed hard. His jaw trembled. He opened his arms, and Francesca let go of Mama and hugged him too. He held her tighter than I'd seen him hold anything in his life.
"You should've told us," he murmured. "We'd have handled it."
Her voice cracked. "I didn't want to make trouble."
I stepped closer.
"You are family. Trouble is our business."
Francesca wiped her eyes and sat down.
Alessandro took the seat beside her, like a guard dog ready to bite whoever looked at her wrong.
Our mother reached across the table and took her hand.
"Cara, you have nothing to be ashamed of. We love you, and we will protect you and your baby. Capisce?"
Francesca nodded. "Grazie," she whispered. "I was so scared."
Our mother squeezed her hand. "You don't have to be scared anymore. You're safe now."
Mama looked at her. "Now speak."
Francesca's lip trembled. "I didn't know who he really was, Mama." Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "I was out with friends. Just... dancing, drinking. He seemed charming. Normal."
She pressed a hand to her mouth, fighting back a sob.
"It wasn't until afterward that someone told me his last name. Domenico." The word came out like poison. "I avoided him after that. Changed my number. Stopped going to those places. I don't even think he knew who I was. Just another girl at a party."
Her hands twisted in her lap. "One night, Mama. One stupid, reckless night. And now..."
She couldn't finish. The weight of it crushed the words in her throat.
Mama knelt in front of her and took her hands. "Enough. You are safe now. And you will stay safe."
She turned to me, her voice steady with authority.
"She cannot go back to her apartment."
"I know."
"She stays here," Mama said. "Where no one can touch her. And she will not step outside without one of your men."
I nodded. "Done."
"And you," Mama continued, "you will find out if Massimo knows. Quietly. Discreetly. Before he makes his move."
That was the part I had been thinking all night.
I lowered my head slightly. "Already planned."
Mama placed a hand over her heart, as if sealing the family together with sheer will.
"Whatever storm is coming," she said softly but firmly, "we face it together. No one touches my children."
I didn't sleep that night. My mind kept replaying every detail of what Francesca had told us.
Massimo.
That fucking bastard.
I clenched my teeth and threw my pillow across the room.
My phone rang on the nightstand, when I saw the caller ID, my blood went cold.
Domenico.
The man I'd sworn to destroy. The man who'd haunted me for years. I hesitated for a second, then swiped to answer.
"Domenico," I said, keeping my voice steady.
"Salvatore," he replied, his tone dripping with mock cordiality. "How are you this fine evening?"
I ground my teeth. "What do you want?"
He chuckled. "Straight to business, I like that. Very well, Salvatore. I'm calling to offer my congratulations."
My grip tightened on the phone. "Congratulations? For what?"
"Oh, come now. Don't play dumb. I know all about the baby." His voice turned sinister. "My grandchild."
I froze. He knew. He fucking knew.