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"She kidnapped an infant?"
Like that was such a surprise. Our world was not rainbows and pink unicorns.
"And afterward took off with the money she was offered for her. My father's enemy tried to blackmail him with his daughter."
"Did he succeed?"
"Of course, he didn't. My father made a lesson out of it for me, told the guy he wasn't going to give him any concessions, and he could kill the kid, and he wasn't going to budge from his position."
Suddenly, the color drained from Amedea's face. She put the fork aside.
"Did he?"
"Kill the baby? Yes. And my father told me that there was no reason in this world to kneel before the enemy. A year later, Carlotta was born, and he did everything to keep her existence a secret. There are no records with doctors or hospitals. Not even a birth certificate. Everyone who knows about her is part of the immediate family, and when she does have contact with the outside world, she uses a different name. Obviously, she's connected, but no one out there knows she's our sister."
"Would you act the same way?"
I was puzzled by her question. Was that all she had to say about it?
"You mean, would I sacrifice my child to demonstrate my superiority over the enemy?"
She nodded.
"Of course not. I'm doing everything I can to make sure my family is okay. Screw whatever message it sends to our enemies. No one will be sacrificed." Stupidly, this also gave me the answer to a question I had never asked. There was no way around figuratively giving Taddeo Santoro the middle finger and proving to him that his daughter was my wife.
I had decided to give her this escape, this possibility of freedom. I could not destroy it by ignoring his threats and pretending that none of this concerned me.
"I'm not in a position to pass judgment on your parents at all, but I'm glad I didn't meet them a few days ago."
"Me too. That would not have ended well."
"For them? Or us?"
"Probably for no one. Just because the next generation is in power doesn't mean my father doesn't still have enough power to influence certain things."
She picked up her fork again and grinned at me. "Maybe you should think about a suitable retirement home. Somewhere far, far away from Naples. Milan is supposed to be nice, I hear."
"And not even close to far enough away," I replied with amusement, though the laughter stuck in my throat. "Now it's your turn, by the way. Enough about my messed up childhood."
Even though she had said at the beginning that she didn't want to talk about the subject of family, there was probably never any way around it. My siblings still played a significant role in my life, even if I didn't always agree with them and certainly didn't live in the immediate vicinity.
They were family, and I was the big brother who had to hold everything together when it threatened to break apart again. And that happened from time to time. That was normal. It was also customary to protect them from the knowledge I had grown up with. Not even Emilio, who had become my successor, knew our father's dirty little secrets.
"I am an only child. My mother couldn't stand being with my father for more than two years. Nine months after that, she was pregnant with me, and shortly after the birth, she disappeared to live a better life elsewhere. And honestly, I don't even blame her. She sent cards for my birthday and Christmas back then."
"It just underscores what an asshole your dad is."
"Right," she replied. "Plus, I went to private school and had to attend all these stupid events to show off money, power, or being his pretty daughter."
"Sure, because the life of the high society of the Italian mafia consists mainly of such events."
"At one point, I left home and asked Emilio for help. I knew him from one of these events. The risk was too high for him initially, but eventually, he caved in, and we made a deal. I would work for him in exchange for my accommodation and security. That last one didn't work out well, but that's not his fault."
"And your dad let you learn all that IT stuff voluntarily?"
She rolled her eyes. "No. I learned that secretly. At night. Or during free periods at school. My teacher gave me the resources and swore not to tell anyone. Yet he would have had every reason to be more afraid of my father than of me."
I eyed her. In fact, there was nothing about Amedea that seemed scary. On the contrary. She gave the impression of an innocent, carefree woman who had not yet experienced anything dramatic.
