PREPARATIONS AND POISON

The day of the meeting arrived too quickly.

I woke before dawn, my body refusing sleep despite exhaustion. The bedroom was still dark, city lights glowing softly through the bulletproof windows. Somewhere in the building, security teams were already moving, preparing for tonight.

Preparing to keep us safe.

If only they knew the real threat was inside. Someone they trusted and someone who knew their plans. Someone who would be at the meeting tonight.

Someone I was planning to meet alone at 8:47 PM.

I reached for my phone out of habit, then remembered I have to leave it behind tonight. The traitor had been specific about that. They will know if I brought it.

Which meant they could be close enough to watch. To verify if i followed instructions.

My stomach twisted from anxiety, i wondered who it was.

I forced myself out of bed, into the shower, trying to wash away the anxiety that clung to my skin like oil. The water was scalding hot enough to hurt, the steam was active, but I welcomed the pain. It was grounding. Real. A reminder that I was still here, still alive, still had choices to make.

Even if all of them felt wrong.

By the time I emerged, wrapped in one of the plush robes that had appeared in my closet, the sun was starting to rise. Painting the city in shades of gold and pink that felt almost mocking. Like the world was beautiful and hopeful while I was drowning in secrets and fear.

I found Luca already awake, sitting at the kitchen counter with Ghost, both of them eating cereal in comfortable silence. My son looked up when I entered, milk on his upper lip, eyes bright.

"Mama! You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep," I said, kissing the top of his head. "What are you doing up, baby?"

"Ghost said we could practice basketball again before you and Dad have to go to your meeting." He swung his legs excitedly. "I almost made a basket yesterday. Almost! Ghost said if I practice more, I'll get it."

"I'm sure you will."

Ghost met my eyes over Luca's head. *You okay?*

I gave a slight nod. Ill be Fine.

His expression said he didn't believe me, but he wouldn't push. Not in front of Luca.

"Where's Dante?" I asked.

"Office. Been there since four AM." Ghost's tone was carefully neutral, but I heard the concern underneath. "Man doesn't sleep."

"He's preparing for tonight."

"We all are." Ghost set down his spoon. "Maria's coordinating with the venue. Security team's doing final sweeps. Everyone's on high alert after that photo incident."

The photo. The one that had started this whole nightmare. The one that proved someone inside Dante's organization had betrayed us.

The same someone I will be meeting in...I glanced at the clock...fourteen hours and twenty-three minutes.

"Mama, are you nervous?" Luca asked suddenly. "About the meeting?"

"A little," I admitted.

"Dad said you're going to be great. He said you're really smart and strong and that the other people are going to like you." My son's faith was absolute. Unshakeable. "I think so too."

"Thank you, baby."

"Can I come? To the meeting?"

"No," I said quickly. Too quickly. "It's grown-up business. Boring stuff. You'd hate it."

"I wouldn't hate it. I could be quiet. I'm really good at being quiet."

"I know you are. But not tonight. Tonight you stay here with Ghost and Maria, and we'll be back before bedtime."

"Promise?"

That word again. The one that made my chest ache every time he said it.

"Promise," I lied.

Because the truth was I had no idea what would happen at 8:47 PM. No idea if I'd walk out of that ladies' room. No idea if the person waiting for me wanted information or wanted me dead.

But I smiled at my son and pretended everything was fine.

Dante emerged from his office around nine AM, looking like he'd been awake for days. Dark circles under his eyes. Hair disheveled from running his hands through it. But his clothes were immaculate..dark slacks, white shirt, looking every inch the powerful businessman he pretended to be.

"Morning," he said, pouring coffee with hands that were perfectly steady despite his exhaustion.

"Morning. Did you sleep at all?"

"An hour. Maybe two." He leaned against the counter. "Security's ready. I've got teams positioned at the venue, on the street, monitoring all access points. If Vincent tries anything tonight, we'll know."

If Vincent tries anything.

But the real threat wasn't Vincent. Not tonight.

It was the traitor. The one Dante still hadn't identified. The one who'd be in that building with us, watching, waiting for me to slip away at exactly 8:47 PM.

"Aria." Dante's voice pulled me back. "You're doing it again. Going somewhere else in your head."

"Sorry. Just thinking about tonight."

"Nervous?"

"Terrified."

"Good." He smiled slightly. "That means you're taking it seriously. That you understand what's at stake."

If only he knew how much I understood. How much I was risking. How many ways tonight could go wrong.

"I got you something," Dante said suddenly. He pulled a small box from his pocket, set it on the counter between us.

I stared at it. "What is this?"

"Open it."

Inside was a necklace. Simple, elegant a single diamond pendant on a platinum chain. Beautiful but understated. The kind of jewelry that whispered wealth rather than shouted it.

"Dante..."

"It was my grandmother's," he said quietly. "She wore it to every important family meeting. Said it reminded her to be strong but graceful. Powerful but feminine." His eyes met mine. "I thought you might like to wear it tonight. For luck."

My throat tightened. This wasn't just jewelry. This was family history. Legacy. Trust.

And I was planning to betray that trust in...I glanced at the clock again....thirteen hours and forty-six minutes.

"I can't," I whispered.

"Why not?"

Because I don't deserve it. Because I'm lying to you. Because I'm about to do something that could destroy everything we're building.

"Because it's too precious," I said instead. "What if I lose it? What if something happens..."

"Then we'll deal with it." He picked up the necklace, moved behind me. "May I?"

I nodded, unable to speak.

His fingers were warm against my neck as he fastened the clasp. The pendant settled against my collarbone, feeling heavier than it should. Like the weight of expectations. Of history. Of the lie I was living.

"Perfect," Dante murmured. His hands lingered on my shoulders for a moment. "She would have liked you, I think. My grandmother. She was tough. Didn't take shit from anyone. Survived things that would have broken most people."

"She sounds amazing."

"She was." He turned me to face him. "You remind me of her sometimes. The way you hold yourself. The way you've survived despite everything trying to break you."

The kindness in his voice was too much. The faith he kept showing me when I didn't deserve it.

I was going to disappoint him. Tonight. At 8:47 PM.

And he'd never look at me the same way again.

"Thank you," I managed. "For this. For believing in me. For everything."

"That's what partners do," he said simply.

Partners.

The word settled like lead in my stomach.

Because partners didn't keep secrets. Didn't lie about threatening messages. Didn't plan to walk into danger alone without telling the person who was supposed to have their back.

Real partners trusted each other.

And I was failing that test spectacularly.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of preparation.

Maria brought clothes options three different dresses, all elegant, all appropriate for the kind of meeting we were attending. I chose the black one. Simple. Classic. The kind of dress that said I belong here without being flashy.

Armor disguised as fashion.

She helped me with my hair elegant updo that showed off Dante's grandmother's necklace. Makeup that was sophisticated but not overdone. Every detail carefully calculated to present the image we needed.

Powerful. Confident. Someone worth taking seriously.

If only the outside matched the inside.

Luca appeared in my doorway around four PM, Ghost hovering behind him.

"Mama, you look like a princess," my son breathed.

"Thank you, baby."

"Are you going to tell the people at the meeting about dinosaurs? Because if they don't know about velociraptors being smart, you should definitely tell them."

I smiled despite everything. "I'll keep that in mind."

"And if anyone's mean to you, you should tell Dad. He'll make them stop." Such absolute faith. Such certainty that his father could fix anything.

If only it were that simple.

"I will," I promised.

"Okay. Good luck!" He hugged me tight, then bounded off with Ghost, probably to squeeze in more basketball before dinner.

I watched them go, memorizing the image. Just in case.

Just in case 8:47 PM went very, very wrong.

We left the penthouse at seven PM.

The drive to the venue was tense despite the bulletproof SUV and the security detail flanking us. Dante sat beside me, checking his phone, coordinating with his team. All business. All focus.

I stared out the window, watching the city slide past, counting down minutes.

One hour and forty-seven minutes.

The venue was in Brooklyn a private club that catered to people like us. People who needed discretion and security and places where cameras didn't exist. The kind of establishment that had hosted mob meetings for generations.

We pulled up to a nondescript entrance. Security everywhere ours and theirs, creating layers of protection that should have made me feel safe.

Instead, I felt trapped.

"Ready?" Dante asked.

"As I'll ever be."

He took my hand. Squeezed. "You're going to be amazing. Just remember everything we talked about. Follow my lead. Observe. Learn. And don't let them intimidate you."

"Okay."

"And Aria?" He looked at me seriously. "If anything feels wrong if anyone makes you uncomfortable or if you need me for any reason you find me immediately. Don't try to handle it alone."

The irony was suffocating.

"I will," I lied.

Again.

We entered together, Dante's hand on the small of my back. Possessive. Protective. Presenting a united front.

The club's interior was exactly what I expected all dark wood and leather, old money and older secrets. Men in expensive suits clustered in groups, drinks in hand, conversations pausing as we entered.

Evaluating. Judging. Deciding if I was worth their time.

"Dante." An older man approached, hand extended. Antonio Battaglia. I recognized him from the photos. "Good to see you."

"Antonio." They shook hands. "Thank you for hosting. I'd like you to meet my wife..."

"Aria Moretti." Antonio's eyes sharp. Assessing. "Or should I say Aria Russo now?"

"Both," I said smoothly. "Depends on the context."

His lips twitched. Almost a smile. "Your father would have appreciated that answer. He was good with context too."

"You knew my father well?"

"Did business with him for twenty years. He was a good man. Fair. Honorable. His death was a tragedy."

"Yes. It was."

"Strange how you survived when no one else did."

There it was. The first test. The first suggestion that maybe I wasn't who I claimed to be.

"Not strange," I said calmly. "Lucky. And I've spent seven years wishing I died with them instead."

True. Every word true.

Antonio's expression softened slightly. "Well. You're here now. That's what matters." He gestured toward the main room. "Others are eager to meet Marco Moretti's daughter. Come."

We followed him deeper into the club. More introductions. More tests disguised as pleasantries.

Angelo Ricci younger, ambitious, clearly trying to figure out if I was someone he could use or someone who'd stand in his way.

Sal Fontana quiet, observant, barely speaking but watching everything with eyes that missed nothing.

And finally, Gianna Costello.

She stood apart from the men, drink in hand, perfectly styled in a way that probably took hours but looked effortless. She didn't approach us. Just watched. Waiting for us to come to her.

Power move.

"Mrs. Costello," Dante said as we reached her. "Thank you for coming."

"Dante." Her voice was cool. Professional. "I hear you've brought interesting company tonight."

"My wife. Aria."

Gianna's eyes swept over me. Taking in every detail. The dress. The jewelry. The way I held myself.

"Moretti," she said finally. "I knew your father. He spoke of you occasionally. Said you were too soft for this world."

Direct hit.

"He was wrong," I said quietly.

"Was he?" She took a sip of her drink. "We'll see."

Not hostile. Not friendly. Just... waiting.

To see if I will prove myself or prove my father right.

I was saved from responding by a staff member announcing dinner.

We moved into the dining room long table, formal settings, everyone taking carefully calculated seats. Dante at one end. Antonio at the other. Me beside Dante, in the position of honor and scrutiny.

The meal began.

And I started counting down.

One hour and twenty-three minutes until 8:47 PM.

Until I could slip away to the second floor ladies' room.

Until I could meet the traitor who knew who killed my family.

Until everything either made sense or fell completely apart.

I picked up my fork and pretended to eat.

While the clock ticked toward my moment of truth.