THE SISTERS

Two days pass before I see Isabella.

Two long days.

I smile when people expect me to smile. I answer questions. I sit through dinner with Vittoria at the head of the table, acting as if nothing has changed.

Inside, my thoughts never stop.

Every plan ends the same way.

Someone gets caught.

Someone dies.

Sometimes it's me.

Sometimes it's Matteo.

Sometimes it's all of us.

I don't sleep much.

Every little sound outside my bedroom makes my heart jump.

A knock on the door.

Footsteps in the hallway.

A voice outside my window.

Every time, I think they've found out.

Every time, I'm wrong.

For now.

On the second afternoon, Giulia finds me in the kitchen garden.

She kneels beside a row of herbs, pretending to pull weeds.

Without looking at me, she says quietly, "Your rosemary is dying."

I kneel beside her.

"It was healthy yesterday."

"It'll recover."

Her hand brushes mine.

Something small slips into my palm.

She stands before anyone notices.

"Don't forget to water it."

"I won't."

She walks away as if nothing happened.

I wait until I'm alone before opening my hand.

A folded piece of paper.

Just three words.

Tonight. Garden. Midnight.

My pulse quickens.

---

The hours crawl by.

Dinner feels endless.

Dante tells another story that makes everyone laugh.

Everyone except Vittoria.

She barely touches her food.

Her pale eyes move around the table one person at a time.

When they land on me, I lower my eyes and cut another piece of meat.

"Elena."

My stomach tightens.

"Yes?"

"You seem distracted."

I force a smile.

"I'm just tired."

She keeps watching me.

"Tired people make mistakes."

"I'll be more careful."

A long silence follows.

Then she picks up her wineglass.

"See that you are."

Only after dinner ends do I finally breathe again.

---

By the time the house falls asleep, the rain has stopped.

Clouds drift across the moon, hiding it every few seconds.

I slip out of my room without making a sound.

The hallway is dark.

Old wooden floors stretch ahead of me.

I know exactly which boards creak.

I step around them one by one.

The silence presses against my ears.

At the bottom of the stairs, I pause.

Nothing moves.

Good.

I open the back door and step into the night.

The garden smells of wet earth and fresh roses.

Drops of rain still cling to the leaves, shining like tiny pieces of glass under the moonlight.

The fountain is the only thing making noise.

Water falls into the stone basin in a slow, steady rhythm.

Peaceful.

Too peaceful.

This place hides more secrets than beauty.

I spot Isabella sitting on a stone bench beside the fountain.

She hears my footsteps and looks up.

For a moment, neither of us speaks.

"You came," she says.

"You weren't sure I would?"

"I wasn't sure Matteo was telling the truth."

I walk over and sit beside her.

The stone is cold beneath me.

"Thank you for meeting me."

She studies my face.

"You look exhausted."

"I haven't been sleeping."

"I can tell."

She hesitates.

"Matteo only said this was important."

"It is."

She waits.

"So..."

I draw in a slow breath.

"Before I tell you anything, I need one promise."

Her eyebrows lift.

"What kind of promise?"

"Listen until I'm finished."

She frowns.

"That's all?"

"No matter how impossible it sounds."

The fountain splashes softly between us.

Finally, she nods.

"You have my word."

I look down at my hands.

They are shaking.

I close them into fists.

"I know about the ledger."

Everything changes.

The color drains from Isabella's face.

She doesn't blink.

She doesn't breathe.

"I know Vittoria writes people's futures inside it."

Still nothing.

"I know she decides who lives..."

I swallow.

"...and who dies."

A cold breeze moves through the garden.

The roses sway gently.

Isabella whispers, "Who told you?"

"No one."

"Then how do you know?"

"I saw it."

She stares at me as though I've spoken another language.

"You've seen the ledger?"

"Yes."

"That's impossible."

"I wish it was."

She slowly shakes her head.

"If Vittoria finds out..."

"I know."

"No."

Her voice grows firmer.

"You don't understand."

I meet her eyes.

"I understand enough to know my own name is written inside that book."

Her lips part.

"What?"

"My death."

The words come out quietly.

"So unless I do something..."

I force myself to finish.

"I'm already dead."

For a long time, Isabella says nothing.

The only sound is the fountain.

Finally she whispers,

"I always knew something wasn't right."

I turn toward her.

"What do you mean?"

She wraps her arms around herself.

"When I was little, people disappeared."

She laughs bitterly.

"Everyone said they'd moved away."

"You didn't believe them."

"I wanted to."

She looks toward the house.

"But children notice things."

"What things?"

"They left behind clothes."

She pauses.

"Family photographs."

Her voice trembles.

"They even left pets."

A lump forms in my throat.

"People don't leave their whole lives behind."

"No."

She looks back at me.

"They don't."

The truth hangs between us.

Heavy.

Painful.

"I asked Vittoria once," Isabella continues.

"I asked where they went."

"What did she say?"

"She smiled."

A chill runs through me.

"And?"

"'Some people,' she told me, 'simply stop belonging here.'"

Silence settles over us.

I can almost hear my own heartbeat.

"She frightened me that day."

Isabella wipes at her eyes before any tears can fall.

"I've been afraid of her ever since."

I reach for her hand.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore."

She gives me a sad smile.

"I wish that were true."

"It can be."

She looks at me.

"How?"

I squeeze her hand.

"Help me stop her."

Her eyes widen.

"You can't be serious."

"I've never been more serious in my life."

She stands so quickly the bench scrapes across the stone path.

"You want me to betray my family?"

"I want you to save it."

"My grandmother raised me."

"And she destroys anyone who stands in her way."

"She's still my blood."

"So are the people she's hurting."

Those words stop her.

She looks away.

Her shoulders rise as she takes a deep breath.

When she finally speaks, her voice is barely more than a whisper.

"If I help you..."

She turns back toward me.

"...there's no going back."

I stand too.

"No."

"There isn't."

The wind moves through the trees.

Somewhere in the darkness...

A twig snaps.

Isabella freezes.

"So did I."

The sound comes again.

A twig snaps somewhere behind us.

Isabella gasps and grabs my arm.

"Someone's there."

I turn toward the hedge, my heart beating so hard it hurts.

"Who's there?" I call.

For a second, nothing happens.

Then a familiar voice breaks the silence.

"It's me."

Matteo steps out of the shadows with his hands raised.

Moonlight catches his face.

He looks tired. His dark hair is messy, and there are deep shadows beneath his eyes, like he hasn't slept in days.

"You scared us," Isabella says, pressing a hand against her chest.

"I know." He gives her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry."

"You were supposed to stay by the gate," I tell him.

"I tried."

He looks at me.

"But I couldn't."

"Why?"

"Because I needed to know if she would trust you."

His eyes move to Isabella.

"And?"

She lets out a slow breath.

"I haven't decided."

Matteo walks closer.

"I know this is asking a lot."

"You have no idea."

"I do."

He stops beside us.

"I've lived with Vittoria my whole life."

His voice is calm, but I hear the pain hiding underneath it.

"I know what she's capable of."

Isabella folds her arms.

"Then why stay all these years?"

A sad smile touches his face.

"Because I thought there wasn't another choice."

"And now?"

"Now there is."

He looks at me.

"Because Elena reminded me that fear only wins if we keep obeying it."

Neither of us speaks.

The wind stirs the roses around us.

The sweet smell fills the night, but it can't hide the fear hanging between us.

Isabella lowers her eyes.

"I've always been afraid of her."

"So was I," Matteo says quietly.

She looks surprised.

"You?"

He nods.

"Everyone thinks I'm brave."

He laughs once.

"They're wrong."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"I was just better at hiding it."

Silence settles over us.

Finally Isabella speaks.

"If I help you..."

She looks from Matteo to me.

"...what exactly are we trying to do?"

I don't answer right away.

Instead, I look toward the house.

Most of the windows are dark.

Only one room still has a light burning.

Vittoria's.

"We take the ledger."

Both of them stare at me.

"And then?"

"We learn everything that's inside it."

Matteo shakes his head.

"That's dangerous."

"I know."

"If that book really decides people's lives..."

He doesn't finish.

"It does," I say.

"I've seen my own name."

He closes his eyes for a second.

When he opens them again, they're full of worry.

"I don't want you anywhere near that room."

"I don't have a choice."

"There has to be another way."

"There isn't."

My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to.

I take a breath.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize."

"Yes, I do."

I meet his eyes.

"I know you're trying to protect me."

"I am."

"But we both know protecting me won't stop Vittoria."

He doesn't argue.

Because he knows I'm right.

Isabella sits back down on the stone bench.

Her hands are shaking.

"What if she catches us?"

"Then we run."

"And if we can't?"

Nobody answers.

The silence is answer enough.

After a while she asks,

"Where does she keep it?"

Matteo looks at his sister.

"Still in her study?"

Isabella slowly shakes her head.

"No."

"Then where?"

"In her bedroom."

Both of us freeze.

"What?"

"She moved it last week."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

She bites her lip.

"She's been acting strange lately."

"Strange how?" I ask.

"She checks the locks every night."

She thinks for a moment.

"She sent away two servants because she thought they touched her desk."

Matteo frowns.

"That's not like her."

"I know."

"Did something happen?"

"I don't think so."

She lowers her voice.

"I think she's scared."

A cold feeling settles in my stomach.

"Scared of what?"

"I don't know."

She looks toward the dark house.

"But I've never seen her like this."

For a moment, hope flickers inside me.

Maybe Vittoria already knows something is changing.

Maybe she's beginning to lose control.

"What about the key?" I ask.

"She keeps it with her."

"All the time?"

"Always."

"Including at night?"

Isabella nods.

"She wears it around her neck while she sleeps."

Matteo lets out a quiet curse.

"That makes everything harder."

I stare at the house.

Moonlight falls across the windows.

Behind one of them sits the woman who has controlled this family for years.

There has to be a weakness.

Everyone has one.

"We don't steal the key," I say.

They both look at me.

"We borrow it."

Matteo frowns.

"What does that mean?"

"It means we wait until she's asleep."

"Elena..."

"We take the key."

"You make it sound easy."

"I know it isn't."

I step closer.

"But difficult doesn't mean impossible."

Matteo shakes his head again.

"I don't like this."

"You don't have to."

"I've already watched you die once."

His voice breaks on the last words.

"I'm not watching it happen again."

The pain in his face catches me off guard.

For a second, I don't see the strong man standing in front of me.

I see someone carrying years of guilt.

Someone who still blames himself.

I reach for his hand.

His fingers are cold.

"You won't."

His eyes search mine.

"I promise."

"You can't promise that."

"No."

A sad smile touches my lips.

"I guess I can't."

He lets out a slow breath.

"I hate this plan."

"I know."

"But you'll still help me?"

He doesn't answer straig

ht away.

Instead, he looks at Isabella.

Then back at me.

Finally...

He nods.

"I'm with you."

Always.

He doesn't say the last word aloud.

He doesn't need to.

I see it in his eyes.

Isabella watches us quietly.

Then she sighs.

"I suppose that means I don't have much choice."

"You always have a choice," I tell her gently.

She gives a weak smile.

"Maybe."

She straightens her shoulders.

"But I'm tired of being afraid."

For the first time that night...

I smile.

A real smile.

"Then we start tomorrow."

The three of us stand together beneath the moon.

No one speaks.

The fountain keeps flowing.

The roses move gently in the wind.

Somewhere beyond the garden walls, thunder rumbles across the sea.

A storm is coming.

And somehow...

I know it isn't the weather I'm afraid of.