Page 115 of Ruthless Vow
“Is there more?”
Silence.
Renzo glances at Gia. Nico shifts against the wall. Marco looks at the floor.
There’s more. Something they don’t want to hand me.
“Gia.” My voice drops. “What is it?”
She hasn’t moved since she finished the medical report. Rigid. Arms crossed. Staring past me.
“The poison.” Too controlled. “I identified the compound. Stabilized you. But a detail kept bothering me. The presentation. The progression. The timeline to cardiac arrest.” She swallows. “It was familiar.”
“Familiar how?”
She meets my eyes.
“I pulled Papa’s autopsy records.”
Cristo.
The room goes cold.
Nico pushes off the wall. Marco’s head snaps up. Renzo turns to stone.
“Gia.” The word scrapes out of me.
“The compound signatures match.” Her voice cracks. “Same poison. Same mechanism. Same timeframe.”
No one breathes.
“Papa didn’t die of grief. Romano poisoned him.”
The words tear out of her. “He sat at our table for thirty-two years. Watched Papa grieve Mama. Pretended to be family. And then he murdered him.”
Nico makes a sound. Low. Wounded. He turns away, hand over his mouth.
Marco’s fists clench at his sides. His whole body trembling.
Renzo doesn’t move. But his face goes from ice to something feral. Something that wants to dig Romano up and kill him again.
“I couldn’t save him.” Tears streak down Gia’s face. “I was in the room when he collapsed. I told everyone it was his heart. I believed it. But it was murder. And I missed it.”
Her voice shatters.
“He cried at the funeral. Romano. Stood there with tears streaming down his face and I thought he loved Papa. The whole time. The whole fucking time he was the one who killed him.”
Nico moves first. Crosses to her. Pulls her into his arms. The twins, holding each other the way they did when they were children. When the world got too big and too cruel and they only had each other.
Renzo’s hand goes to his pocket. The rosary. Mama’s rosary.
Marco hasn’t moved. Frozen by the door. Eyes wet. Our youngest, who has no memory of Mama, who worshipped Papa.
Cassia’s fingers tighten around mine.
Cazzo.
The rage hits my chest like a fist. White-hot. My pulse hammers against my skull and my hands shake and I can’t fucking breathe.
