Chapter 4 – THE POCKET WATCH AND THE PROMISE

The silence in the room was so heavy it felt suffocating.

Lucia stared at the gold pocket watch in Bianca’s hand, her face completely pale. She swayed slightly, and the cousin nearest to her quickly stood to support her arm.

“My husband,” Lucia whispered, her voice cracking. “My Antonio… ordered the hit?”

“Yes,” Bianca said, stepping forward, emboldened by the old woman’s shock. “Antonio Moretti couldn’t have a simple carpenter holding the family’s wealth hostage. He hired my father to take care of it. The car accident wasn’t an accident. It was a job.”

I felt physically sick. I looked at the silver rosary in my hand, then at Matteo.

“You knew,” I choked out. “You knew my father was murdered by your family, and you still married me.”

Matteo’s jaw tightened. “I married you to make it right, Sophia. I swore to my grandfather on his deathbed that I would protect you. That I would keep you safe from the rest of the commission. You think you’ve been living in a cage? I’ve been your shield!”

“You lied to me every single day of our marriage!” I screamed, the betrayal tearing through my chest. “You gave my father’s rosary to your mistress! You let her humiliate me in front of your entire family!”

“She’s not my mistress!” Matteo yelled back.

The words hung in the air.

I blinked. “What?”

Matteo dragged a hand through his dark hair, looking completely defeated. He gestured toward Bianca, but there was no affection in his eyes. Only resentment.

“She’s not my mistress, Sophia. She’s my blackmailer.”

Bianca’s smug smile vanished.

“Shut up, Matteo,” Bianca hissed.

Matteo turned to me, his eyes pleading for the first time in seven years. “Her family has held that pocket watch—and the proof of what my grandfather did—over my head since the day I took over the family. They demanded the Palermo accounts in exchange for their silence. When I couldn’t find the coordinates, they demanded something else.”

I stared at him, trying to process the madness. “What else?”

“Legitimacy,” Lucia realized, her voice regaining its strength. She looked at Bianca with absolute disgust. “You didn’t want to be his mistress. You wanted to be his wife.”

“I want what my family is owed!” Bianca yelled, her composure breaking. She pointed an accusing finger at me. “She doesn’t belong here! She’s the daughter of a dead carpenter! I am mafia royalty. Matteo was supposed to marry me to merge our families. He chose her instead!”

“Because I loved her!” Matteo roared.

I flinched. The word love sounded grotesque coming from his mouth.

Lucia stepped away from her chair, walking slowly toward Bianca. She stopped inches from the younger woman.

“You wanted to merge our families, Bianca?” Lucia asked quietly.

“It was the deal,” Bianca sneered.

Lucia reached out and took the gold pocket watch from the velvet box. She didn’t look at it with nostalgia. She looked at it with pure hatred.

“My husband was a cruel man,” Lucia said. “But he was not a fool.”

She pressed a hidden latch on the side of the watch. The gold back popped open.

A small, folded piece of parchment fell into Lucia’s hand.

“Did your father ever actually look inside this watch, Bianca?” Lucia asked, unrolling the paper. “Because this isn’t a token of collateral. It’s a confession.”