Nico
I stare at the woman standing in front of me, veil now pulled back, face fully exposed under the low lights of the room.
“You’re one of Massimo’s daughters,” I say quietly, studying her face. “But you’re definitely not Sienna.”
She doesn’t answer. Just lifts her chin and stares straight back at me, pure defiance burning in those dark eyes.
My patience snaps.
I let the silence stretch, then slowly reach for my gun. The barrel presses against her forehead.
“You’ve got one second to tell why you’re dressed like your sister,” I murmur, voice low and even, “or I’ll paint this room with your brains.”
She flinches. Finally. A sharp little jerk of her body, eyes widening for half a heartbeat. But instead of responding to my question, the crazy woman has the nerve to say, “You won’t shoot me,” she says, voice shaky. “You need me alive.”
I almost laugh. The audacity of this woman—zip-tied, kidnapped, staring down the barrel of my gun, and still running her mouth.
“Not anymore,” I tell her calmly. “You’re not Sienna. Which makes you fucking useless to me.”
I thumb the safety off. The metallic click echoes between us, and her eyes flood with fear. Real fear. She swallows hard, throat working visibly, pulse jumping under the delicate skin of her neck.
I quirk a brow, waiting. “I’m Eleonora,” she finally breathes. “Sienna’s older sister.”
I lower the gun slightly, confusion slicing through the rage. “Tell me one thing,” my voice comes out sharper than I intend. “Why the hell are you wearing the wedding dress? Did Andrea pick a different bride at the last minute?”
She stays silent, lips pressed tight, eyes locked on mine like she’s still deciding how much to give me.
“Speak,” I snap.
She jumps at the command, then lets out a shaky breath. “Sienna didn’t want to marry Andrea. She’s in love with someone else. So, I decided to take her place.”
The pieces come together in my head. They switched. They actually fucking switched.
And I took the wrong goddamn sister. Weeks of planning, surveillance, timing, routes, risks calculated down to the second, all of it for nothing. I just dragged the wrong Caruso daughter through a shootout across Manhattan. I risked my life and the lives of my men for the wrong bride.
“Fuck.”
I shove my gun back into the holster. My hand drags roughly through my hair as a string of curses leaves my mouth.
All this time. All this effort. And I’ve been running around the city with Eleonora Caruso instead of Sienna.
I level my stare at her. “Where’s Sienna now?”
Eleonora presses her lips together and says nothing. That defiant fire is still burning in her eyes. I take one slow step closer, letting the silence stretch until it’s suffocating. My voice drops, low and ice-cold.
“I’ll ask once more. Where is your sister? Lie to me, and I’ll have your other sisters Camilla and Daniela picked up before sunrise. I’ll put a bullet in each of their pretty heads while you watch. Then I’ll send your father their tongues. Do you understand me?”
Her face drains of color. The defiance flickers, replaced by raw fear. She swallows hard, throat working.
“She’s gone,” she says quietly. “With her boyfriend. She couldn’t marry Andrea… she’s in love with Domenico. We switched so she could run away with him but I have no idea where they are.”
“So let me get this straight,” I say slowly. “You switched places with your sister to marry Andrea Gallo… even though he made it very clear he wanted Sienna specifically?”
She nods.
“Was Andrea in on the switch?”
“No.”
