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I drop to a seat on the couch and set my hand on my forehead.
They have an agenda, I remind myself. I am their enemy. They will sow the seed of doubt. If I give them an opening, they will exploit it like he just did with Emma. I’m easy to read. He said so himself. He will use my love for my sister to get what he wants, no matter the cost to her or me. And creating doubt about my father’s illness, my brother’s loyalty, is part of his game. His agenda. I can’t forget that.
But I’ll do the same. If I see an opening, I’ll use it. And Bastian has given away his hand. He isn’t fully on board with what his brother wants. This is Amadeo’s plan.
“Your answer, Vittoria,” Amadeo says.
I look up at him, study his eyes, watch the storms churn. There’s that rage again, tightly controlled. For now. Fifteen years’ worth of rage.
We may have been collateral damage once, but they’ve taken control. They are no longer that. Me, though? I’m a means to an end. As is Emma.
“Vittoria. Your answer,” Amadeo drags me back to reality. None of this matters. What I’m thinking, understanding, it makes no difference. My hands are tied, and we all know it. So I decide. I decide to choose for myself rather than have them choose for me. To force me. And I make a mental note to dig for the rift between them. Because that is my way out. And that is what gives me the courage to nod my consent.
