Bound by blood and love

The war room

In an abandoned chapel-turned-hideout, Matteo gathered his men. Elira stood to the side, the ledger in her arms.

“She brings it to the table,” Matteo told them, nodding toward her. “She’s not a pawn. She’s the one holding the knife at our backs. So if any of you treat her as less than family—you’ll answer to me.”

One of the older captains scoffed. “This is a mistake, Matteo. She’s a Costanzo. You think that blood won’t turn on you?”

Matteo turned to him slowly. “She’s mine. And if her blood turns on me, so will mine.”

There was silence.

And then bows of loyalty.

The Last Meeting

Elira met with Vittore Marchesi at midnight—alone, just as Matteo planned. She wore her father’s ring and carried the ledger in a steel case.

“Your father would spit to see you here,” Vittore sneered.

Elira smiled coldly. “He’s dead. I’m the one with the power now.”

“I could kill you and take it.”

“You could,” she said, “but Matteo is watching. And if I die, you won’t make it back to your car.”

A beat passed. Then: “What do you want?”

“A ceasefire. You stay out of Palermo. You burn every copy of the contracts. And in return, you get this.” She slid the case forward.

Vittore stared at her. “You’re serious?”

“I’m not my father. I want out of this. I want peace.”

He reached for the case—and the second he did, Matteo stepped from the shadows.

“You’ve got it,” Matteo said. “Take it and leave. But if you ever so much as whisper her name again, I will make your entire bloodline history.”