Chapter 15: The Mother's Test

POV: Isabella Capone

The knife flew past my ear and stuck in the wall behind me.

"Your aim is getting sloppy, Vincent," I said calmly, not even turning around.

My son pulled another blade from his jacket. "I wasn't aiming for you, Mother."

I spun to see a rat scurrying away from where the knife had landed. Vincent had killed it with perfect precision from twenty feet away. Even angry, his hands were steady as stone.

"We need to talk," I said.

"Not now."

"Yes, now." I stepped closer to my son, studying his face. "You look terrible."

Vincent had dark circles under his eyes. His jaw was tight with stress. And there was something else - something I hadn't seen in his face since he was a child.

Fear.

"When did you last sleep?" I asked.

"Sleep is for people who don't have enemies trying to kill them every day."

"Everyone in our family has enemies trying to kill them. That's nothing new."

"This is different."

"Because of the girl?"

Vincent's whole body went rigid. "Leave Sarah out of this."

"Sarah." I tasted the name like poison. "Is that what she's calling herself now?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I pulled out my phone and showed Vincent a photo. The girl was walking out of a bookstore, looking over her shoulder like someone was following her.

"I had her followed," I said. "Very interesting what my men discovered."

"You had her followed?" Vincent's voice was deadly quiet.

"Of course I did. My son brings home a mysterious girl with no past and no family. You think I wouldn't investigate?"

"What did you find?"

"That's the wrong question, Vincent. The right question is what didn't I find."

I moved to the window and looked out at the city I'd helped build. Chicago belonged to the Capone family, and I'd spent thirty years making sure it stayed that way.

"Sarah Miller doesn't exist," I continued. "No birth certificate. No school records. No medical history. It's like she appeared out of thin air three years ago."

"Maybe she had reasons to disappear."

"Maybe she did." I turned back to face him. "Or maybe someone created a fake identity for her. Someone with access to government databases and unlimited resources."

Vincent was quiet for too long.

"What are you saying?" he finally asked.

"I'm saying that girl is not who she claims to be. And whatever she's really running from is going to get you killed."

Before Vincent could argue, the front door opened. Footsteps echoed in the hallway, and then she appeared.

Sarah Miller. Or whoever she really was.

The girl was prettier than her photos showed. Young and innocent-looking, with brown eyes that seemed to take in everything. But there was something else in those eyes. Something that reminded me of myself at her age.

Intelligence. And secrets.

"Mrs. Capone," the girl said politely. "Vincent told me you were visiting."

"Did he?" I smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile. "How nice of him to mention me."

The girl looked between Vincent and me like she could feel the tension crackling in the air. Smart girl.

"I should go," she said. "Let you two talk privately."

"Nonsense," I said quickly. "Stay. I'd love to get to know the woman who's captured my son's attention."

Vincent shot me a warning look, but I ignored him. I hadn't survived in this business for thirty years by being polite.

"Sit," I told the girl. It wasn't a request.

She sat on the couch, back straight, hands folded in her lap. Perfect posture. The kind they teach at expensive schools.

"Tell me about yourself, Sarah," I said.

"There's not much to tell."

"Everyone has a story. Where did you grow up?"

"Ohio."

"What part?"

A tiny pause. "Cleveland."

"Lovely city. What did your parents do for work?"

Another pause. "My father was a salesman. My mother was a teacher."

"Was? Are they dead?"

"My mother is. My father and I don't talk anymore."

"How sad. Family is everything, don't you think?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I watched her face carefully as I asked the next question. "What kind of salesman was your father?"

"Insurance."

Another lie. Her pupils didn't change size, her breathing stayed steady, but I saw her fingers twitch slightly. A tiny tell that most people would miss.

But I wasn't most people.

"Vincent," I said without taking my eyes off the girl. "Could you get me some coffee? The good stuff from the kitchen."

Vincent knew I was up to something, but he couldn't refuse without looking suspicious. "Of course, Mother."

The moment he left the room, I leaned forward.

"Whoever you really are," I said quietly, "you're very good at lying."

The girl's face didn't change. "I don't know what you mean."

"Cleveland, Ohio. Insurance salesman father. Dead teacher mother." I shook my head. "That's a nice story, but it's completely made up."

"Mrs. Capone—"

"My son is falling in love with you. Did you know that?"

Her cheeks turned pink. "Vincent and I are just friends."

"Friends don't look at each other the way you two do. Friends don't risk their lives for each other."

"I haven't—"

"Vincent got shot protecting you yesterday. He came home covered in blood, and all he cared about was whether you were safe."

Tears filled the girl's eyes. Real tears, not fake ones.

"I never wanted him to get hurt," she whispered.

"But he did get hurt. And he'll get hurt again as long as you're here."

"Are you asking me to leave?"

"I'm telling you that my family comes first. Always. And right now, you're a threat to my family."

Vincent's footsteps echoed in the hallway. The girl quickly wiped her eyes.

"Coffee," Vincent said, setting down a tray.

"Thank you, dear." I took a sip and smiled at the girl. "Sarah and I were just getting acquainted."

For the next hour, I asked innocent questions and watched the girl lie to my face. She was good at it, but not good enough. Every answer was too perfect, too practiced.

When Vincent walked her to the door, I saw the way he touched her hand. The way he watched her leave like she was the most precious thing in his world.

My son was completely lost.

After the girl left, I called my most trusted man. Franco had been working for the family since before Vincent was born. If anyone could find the truth, it was him.

"I need a complete background check," I told him. "Go deeper than birth certificates and school records. I want to know everything about this girl."

"How deep?"

"All the way to hell if necessary."

"Give me twenty-four hours."

But I didn't have to wait that long. Franco called back in six hours.

"Mrs. Capone," he said, his voice tight with shock. "You need to sit down."

"Just tell me."

"Sarah Miller doesn't exist because her real name is Scarlett Justice."

The phone almost slipped from my hand.

"Justice," I repeated.

"As in FBI Director Marcus Justice. She's his daughter."

Everything clicked into place. The lies. The fake identity. The way she handled herself under pressure.

"Vincent is sleeping with the enemy's daughter," I whispered.

"It gets worse," Franco continued. "Director Justice has been planning a major operation against our family. He's been gathering evidence for months."

"What kind of operation?"

"The kind that ends with all of us in prison. Or dead."

I hung up the phone and stared at the wall where Vincent's knife had killed the rat. One quick strike, and the threat was eliminated.

That's what needed to happen with the Justice girl.

But Vincent would never forgive me if I hurt her. He'd choose her over the family. Choose love over loyalty.

My phone rang again. This time it was Tommy Romano.

"Isabella," he said smoothly. "I hear you've met Vincent's new girlfriend."

"What do you want, Tommy?"

"Just checking to see if you know who she really is."

"I know."

"And what are you going to do about it?"

"That's family business."

"Not anymore. The girl has put all of us in danger. Her father is coming for everyone connected to organized crime."

"Vincent doesn't know who she is."

"Then you need to tell him. Before he does something stupid."

"Like what?"

"Like choosing her over the family business."

Tommy was right. Vincent was thinking with his heart instead of his head. And in our world, that got people killed.

"I'll handle it," I said.

"You better. Because if you don't, I will."

The line went dead.

I walked to the window and looked out at the city lights. Chicago had been good to the Capone family. We'd built an empire here through blood and smart choices.

But empires could fall fast when the wrong people got involved.

Vincent appeared in the doorway. "Mother? Everything okay?"

"We need to discuss your girlfriend."

"Her name is Sarah."

"No, Vincent. Her name is Scarlett Justice."

My son's face went white.

"That's impossible."

"Franco confirmed it an hour ago. She's the FBI Director's daughter."

Vincent sat down hard in the nearest chair. "She lied to me."

"She's been lying to you since the day you met her."

"Why would she—"

"Because she's either working for her father, or she's running from him. Either way, she's poison."

Vincent put his head in his hands. "This changes everything."

"Yes, it does."

"What do I do?"

I looked at my son - the man I'd raised to be strong and ruthless and smart enough to survive in our world. Right now he looked like a lost little boy.

"That depends," I said carefully. "Do you love her?"

"Yes."

"More than you love your family?"

Vincent looked up at me with tortured eyes. "Don't make me choose."

"I'm not making you choose. The world is making you choose."

"There has to be another way."

"There is," I said quietly.

"What?"

"We eliminate the threat before it eliminates us."

Vincent's face went cold. "You want to kill her."

"I want to protect my family."

"She's innocent."

"No one in our world is innocent."

"Mother—"

"Vincent, listen to me. That girl is going to be your downfall. She's going to destroy everything we've built. Everything your father died for."

"You don't know her."

"I know enough."

I moved to the desk and pulled out the surveillance photos. Pictures of Vincent and the girl together. Kissing. Holding hands. Looking at each other like the rest of the world didn't exist.

"Look at these," I said. "Look how she's made you weak."

"She hasn't made me weak."

"You got shot protecting her. You're housing a federal fugitive. You're falling in love with the daughter of the man who wants to destroy us."

Vincent stared at the photos without speaking.

"That girl is going to be Vincent's downfall," I told my men later that night. "Unless we eliminate her first."