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I turn back to the photograph of the woman with Enzo. “Clara.”
We’re both already following the same thread. Clara’s hidden message. Keep Ivy hidden. The money that appeared after her death. The family in New York she claimed to have left behind. Enzo tied to Italian networks. An older woman with enough influence to make him defer.
We still don't have the full picture, but the pieces are starting to lead somewhere.
“Who was Clara hiding Ivy from?” I murmur.
“We don’t have that answer yet.”
“We need to get it.”
“We will,” Roman assures me.
Very few people outside of blood ever mattered enough to earn Roman's respect. Clara was one of them. If her past is connected to the threat against Ivy, that alone guarantees he won't let this go.
He turns one of the photos toward me again. “Until then, Enzo remains visible.”
“Too visible.”
“Yes.”
“A decoy?”
“Maybe.” Roman meets my eyes. “Or a man arrogant enough to believe he’s the one giving orders.”
“Either way, he bleeds when I find him.”
“He bleeds after we know who stands behind him.”
My hands clench into fists. My mind goes back to Enzo sitting across the restaurant table from me. His smile. His insinuations. The way he spoke about Maggie as if she were leverage to be used and discarded.
Roman’s voice cuts into the memory. “Don’t lose discipline now, brat.”
He holds my stare with the same patience he used when we were younger, and I wanted to solve every insult with my fists. Roman was always colder than I was. Better at waiting and making pain useful.
I straighten one of the photographs on the desk.
“They tried to take my daughter.”
“And killed Irina.”
My hand stills. “Yes.”
“And Maggie saw one of them.”
I don’t answer.
Roman’s focus changes. “There it is.”
“There’s what?”
He closes the folder and studies me across the desk. “You were careful at dinner until you weren’t.”
I already dislike where this conversation is headed. “Maggie saved Ivy.”
“You said that last night.”
“Because it matters.”
