Page 23 of Owned By Royal

He sighs heavily. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“If she’d come to you three weeks ago and told you she believed Dad had someone murdered, would you have believed her?”

The question catches me completely off guard. Would I have? I know the kind of person my father is and the business he does. Yet, three weeks ago, I’d probably have defended Marco without hesitation, because I didn’t know her enough. I’d have assumed she’d wanted to frame him even if he’s capable of it.

Riccardo notices the realization settling over me. “Exactly.”

His interruption is calm. I frown. I’ve always assumed Riccardo was clueless. “You sound like you know more than I think you do.”

He leans back slowly, folding his arms. “I’ve spent years convincing myself I don’t.”

Silence falls between us. Finally, I ask the question that’s suddenly burning inside me. “What do you mean?”

Riccardo’s eyes drift toward the window. “When Mom died...” my entire body stills, “...did you ever think it was strange?”

“Our mother died in a car accident.”

“That’s what we were told.”

“It was investigated.”

“So was Mr. Thorne’s murder.”

I stare at him.

He continues quietly. “I’ve spent years buried inside Father’s companies, Royal. I’ve seen things that never quite added up. Payments that disappeared. Executives who suddenly resigned after disagreements with him.

Competitors who quietly backed out of deals after private meetings. Every time I started asking questions, there’d be a perfectly reasonable explanation waiting for me.”

I’ve always known my father toed the line of evil, but I didn’t know how deep it went. I’ve always wanted to distance myself from him, and maybe it felt better not knowing.

“So, you think dad is not as clean as we thought?”

“I don’t know.” His voice cracks for the first time. “I honestly don’t know.” The admission hits me harder than anything else tonight.

“I always thought you admired him.”

Riccardo smiles sadly. “I admire what he built.” He exhales slowly before continuing. “I stayed close because someone had to.”

“What are you talking about?”

“After Mom died, I was nineteen. You were fourteen.”

“I remember.”

“I promised myself I’d protect you.”

The words catch me completely off guard. “I didn’t need protecting.”

“I know that now.” He laughs softly. “But back then, you were just my little brother.”

I shake my head. “You’ve been pretending all these years?”

“I’ve been waiting.”

“For what?”