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Isabella jerks her head at me. "You know her?" she asks.
I simply nod. I follow her gaze and spot Rosalie leaning against a lamppost, scrolling through her phone, oblivious to our presence. This is our chance. Exchanging a determined glance with Isabella, we approach her cautiously, ready for anything.
"Rosalie Battaglia," I say, my voice low but firm.
She looks up, startled, her eyes darting from me to Isabella as she recognizes me. Her expression hardens, but she doesn't back down.
"Stefano Nitti," she replies coolly. "What brings you to Chicago?"
"To be frank," I say, my heart pounding in my chest, "I'm here to kill Felix Carlisi."
Her eyes widen, but she remains composed. "Why?" she asks, her voice steady despite the gravity of my confession.
"Revenge for our underboss and the war he brought upon us," I explain, watching her closely for any sign of deception. "But seeing you with him... it complicates things."
"Does it?" she challenges, raising an eyebrow. "You think I'm some sort of damsel in distress? That I need saving from Felix?"
"No," I admit, remembering the stories I've heard about her - how different she is from her own father, Fronzo Battaglia, the now deceased don of the New York Unit. I’ve hear rumors of his daughter, Rosalie. How she's smart, cunning, kind. In contrast to her evil father. If there's someone who may help me uncover the truth, it's Rosalie. "But I believe you're a just and fair woman. And that makes me question what I know about Felix."
"Then ask me," she says, her gaze locked with mine, unflinching.
"Are you involved with him?" I ask, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
"More than you can imagine," she replies cryptically. "But that's not what you really want to know, is it?"
I hesitate for a moment, then take a deep breath before asking the question that's been eating at me since I saw them together. "Is that child his?"
"Yes," Rosalie confirms without hesitation, her eyes never leaving mine. "She's our daughter."
The weight of her words sinks in, and I feel Isabella's hand tighten around mine as we both process this new information. If Rosalie stands by Felix and they share a child, can he truly be the monster we've been led to believe? Would he jeopardize everything, an empire and family, to start a war with Don Conti?
"Stefano," Isabella whispers, her voice laced with concern. "What do we do now?"
"Give us a reason not to kill him," I tell Rosalie, my voice wavering, betraying the uncertainty within me.
"Then listen,” she says, her expression resolute. “Because there's more to this story than you‘ve been led to believe."
Before I can press Rosalie for more information, the sound of footsteps echoes from behind us. My heart pounds in my chest as Felix Carlisi himself appears at the entrance of the alley, his eyes locked on me with a mixture of surprise and suspicion.
"Stefano Nitti," he says calmly, taking in the situation before him. "I never thought I'd see your face on the day you came to kill me."
Words catch in my throat, and I can't find any response. I glance at Isabella, who looks just as shocked as I am by his calm demeanor in the face of danger.
"Listen," Felix continues, stepping forward and raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I understand why you're here, but you need to know the truth. I didn't kill your underboss."
"Then why are we hearing otherwise?" I ask, my voice strained. A part of me wants to believe him, but doubt lingers in the corners of my mind. "Why did Capo Conti send me here?"
"Because someone wants you to think I'm guilty," Felix replies, his voice steady and sincere. "But I am gathering evidence that proves my innocence."
"Show us," I demand, my grip tightening on the gun hidden in my jacket. If he's lying, I won't hesitate to pull the trigger.
Felix shakes his head. "I don't want to blame an innocent man just to be relieved of a bullet with my name on it. I don't have concrete evidence as yet, so I will not point fingers. But, if you must kill me still, kill me."
"Felix," Rosalie gasps, reaching for his hand.
"Rosalie told me you two have a daughter," I say, still struggling to wrap my head around the concept. "Are you... are you married?"
Felix glances at Rosalie, who nods in confirmation. "Yes," he says softly, his gaze shifting back to me. "We are."
