THE SISTER’S SILENCE

Luciano didn’t blink as he stared at the grainy image of Isadora captured on the backup feed. The black-and-white still showed her mid-step, calm, composed, but with a duffel slung over one shoulder.

Aria stepped beside him. “She deleted the footage… took the drives. Why?”

Mateo stood silent at the door, the tension in his posture mirroring the storm brewing in the room.

Luciano exhaled through his nose and handed the photo back to Mateo. “Find her. Discreetly. No alarms, no guards. If this is what I think it is, we can’t afford to tip her off.”

“Yes, sir.”

When the door shut behind Mateo, Aria turned to Luciano. “She helped you find out your father was alive. Why would she do that and then wipe the evidence?”

Luciano ran a hand through his hair, pacing.

“She didn’t help me. She guided me. There’s a difference.”

He moved to the liquor cabinet and poured a finger of scotch, but he didn’t drink it.

“She knew I’d go to war if I found out the truth. She gave me just enough to make the first move… but not enough to know who I’m really up against.”

Aria crossed her arms. “You think she’s working with your father.”

He looked at her, haunted. “I think she never stopped.”

The room fell silent except for the faint crackle of the fire. Aria sat down, her hands in her lap, her thoughts spiraling like smoke.

“I trusted her,” she murmured. “She told me your father was alive. She told me it would change everything. But I didn’t think she meant like this.”

Luciano finally downed the drink and sat across from her, his face tight.

“She’s always played both sides. Even when we were kids. She was my sister, but she knew how to lie without flinching. Our father taught her that. Taught us both.”

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

“If she’s still loyal to him, it means he’s rebuilding the empire from the inside. And it means he knew I would come for him.”

“And that you wouldn’t see her coming,” Aria whispered.

Luciano gave a grim smile. “She’s the perfect traitor.”

Aria stood, restless. “So what now? You said no alarms, but if she’s already left—”

“She hasn’t,” he interrupted. “She wouldn’t run. She’ll pretend like nothing happened. She’ll be waiting. Watching.”

He stood slowly and reached for his phone. “We trap her before she traps us.”

⸻

That evening, the dining hall was unusually quiet.

Isadora arrived precisely on time, draped in her usual elegance—black silk dress, diamond earrings, the mask of a composed heiress carved onto her face.

Aria watched her from the other end of the table, a chill crawling up her spine. Everything about Isadora looked… normal. Polished. Not a single hair out of place.

Which only made the betrayal more chilling.

Luciano walked in last. He didn’t speak as he sat at the head of the table. He didn’t look at Isadora—at least not directly.

Dinner was served.

Tension sat on every plate like a second course.

Aria pushed food around with her fork, watching as Luciano finally set down his glass.

“I had the east wing scanned today,” he said casually, voice steady. “Security logs were erased.”

Isadora raised a brow. “How odd.”

“Very,” he said, finally looking at her. “Even stranger that the only person unaccounted for during the breach… was you.”

She dabbed her lips with a napkin. “I was reading in the solarium.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

Luciano leaned back in his chair. “Strange. Because I have a backup image. You leaving the security room. Carrying something.”

The room froze.

Isadora didn’t blink. “I took some drives for personal review. Old records from father’s ledger. Surely you’re not accusing me of something, Luciano?”

Aria’s fists clenched beneath the table.

Luciano’s smile was humorless. “Tell me what was on those drives.”

Isadora met his gaze. “I already erased them.”

Aria stood so abruptly her chair scraped back across the floor. “Why?”

Isadora looked at her like she was a child who’d asked the wrong question. “Because you’re the spark. And sparks are meant to burn.”

Luciano rose too, stepping forward, voice low but lethal. “Where is he?”

Isadora smiled, lips painted in venom. “Closer than you think.”

Luciano’s eyes flickered.

“And Aria?” she added, gaze shifting. “He still wants her. That’s not going to change.”

Luciano lunged forward, grabbing her arm. “Tell me where he is—now.”

Isadora leaned in, her smile widening. “Ask your mother.”

The breath left Luciano’s body.

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?” she whispered.

Luciano’s grip tightened as his heart thudded against his ribs. “My mother died ten years ago.”

Isadora’s voice dropped to a whisper. “No, Luciano. She just disappeared.”

Silence fell like a guillotine.

Aria’s eyes widened. “Your… mother is alive?”

Isadora pulled her arm free and adjusted her dress like it was all a minor inconvenience.

“She’s been by his side this entire time. You really thought he built this empire back without her?”

Luciano’s hands trembled.

The mother he mourned.

The father he hated.

Together.

Alive.

A legacy of blood rising again.

Before anyone could speak again, the lights in the hall flickered.

Then died.

Total darkness swallowed the room.

Then a voice echoed from a speaker above them.

Low. Familiar.

Antonio Moretti.

“Hello, figlio mio. Did you really think you could hunt me without becoming prey?”