Chapter 43 The Visit
Alessia had been in the holding cell for eighteen hours before anyone told her she had a visitor.
“Your lawyer,” the guard said, unlocking the door.
“I didn’t request a lawyer.”
“Court-appointed. You get one whether you want it or not.”
They led her to a small consultation room, windowless, the metal table bolted to the floor.
Alessia sat, hands still cuffed in front of her, every muscle screaming from exhaustion, her mind swimming in disbelief.
The door opened.
A woman stepped inside. Not at all who Alessia expected.
Older, maybe seventy, steel-gray hair swept into a tight twist. An expensive suit. Designer glasses. She carried herself with a calm authority, the kind of presence that could silence a courtroom without raising a voice.
“Ms. Scarpetti,” the woman said, voice sharp, cultured. “I’m Katherine Brennan. I’ll be representing you.”
She set a leather briefcase on the table, flipping it open with precise, practiced movements.
The guard left, shutting the door behind him.
“I didn’t ask for a lawyer,” Alessia said, voice hoarse.
“No. But you were assigned one anyway.” Katherine studied her, eyes sharp, assessing. “Court-appointed. Standard protocol.”
“You don’t look like a public defender.”
“I’m not.” Katherine smiled faintly. “Private counsel. Very private. Very expensive. And I’m here because someone is paying for me.”
Alessia felt her chest tighten. “Who?”
“Your grandmother.”
The words hit like a fist to her stomach.
“What?”
“Elena Konstantinova. Though you may have known her as Elena Moretti.” Katherine pulled out a photograph, a young Elena and a young Katarina. “Your grandmother and I go back decades. Colleagues. Friends. Sisters, in a sense.”
“Sisters… in the Council,” Alessia said slowly, her voice almost a whisper.
Katherine’s smile widened. “You’ve done your research. That’ll make this easier.”
More documents came out, legal briefs, case files, evidence logs.
“The charges against you? Fabricated,” Katherine said, matter-of-fact. “The offshore account was created with access to FBI internal systems. The communications, doctored. Financial irregularities planted.”
“I know. But how do I prove it?” Alessia’s voice cracked.
“You don’t. Not here. Not inside a holding cell. Not playing by their rules.” Katherine leaned forward. “Your grandmother has been watching you. Every step. Joining the FBI, volunteering for this operation… falling in love with Liam O’Sullivan.”
Alessia felt the air tighten around her chest. “She’s been… watching me?”
“Always. From a distance. Through the Council’s network. Couldn’t contact you directly. Too dangerous. Too many eyes. But she’s been protecting you, ways you never realized.” Katherine’s tone softened for a moment.
“Some protection,” Alessia said bitterly. “I’m in federal custody, facing twenty years.”
“Because you’ve been moved like a pawn.” Katherine’s voice sharpened. “Reacting instead of acting. Your grandmother demands you stop being a pawn. Start playing.”
“Playing what game?”
“The real one. The one your mother tried to expose.” Katherine laid out another document. “Your mother, Sofia, discovered something she shouldn’t have. Something about the Council’s arrangement with federal law enforcement.”
“Cooperation?” Alessia asked.
“Order among crime families. Prevent chaos. Prevent street wars that draw attention. In exchange, certain federal agencies look the other way on selected activities. They focus on the Council’s targets. Eliminate problems the Council identifies.”
Alessia’s head spun. “The FBI… works for the Council?”
“Not for. With. Certain handlers. Certain operations.” Katherine’s eyes drilled into hers. “Your handler, Marcus Thorne, is one of them.”
“Thorne is… Council?”
“Pragmatic. Takes money from anyone who pays. Council. Your father. Anyone advancing his career.” Katherine slid a set of financial records across the table. “Your father’s been paying Thorne for eight years. Before your mother died.”
Alessia felt blood drain from her face. “What?”
“The hit on your mother wasn’t just your father acting alone. Someone in the FBI made sure it looked like an accident. Made sure there was no investigation. Thorne made sure of it. Made sure your grandmother couldn’t intervene.”
“Thorne,” Alessia whispered.
“Thorne.” Katherine’s voice was hard. “Dirty, yes. Playing both sides for years. Taking money from your father to protect him. Taking money from the Council to maintain balance. And now, you’ve become inconvenient, so he’s burning you.”
Alessia felt the floor vanish beneath her. “My mother… died because of Thorne?”
“She died because she would’ve exposed the Council-FBI arrangement. Evidence. Documents. Recordings. Your father killed her. Thorne made it look like an accident. Made sure your grandmother couldn’t pursue justice.”
“And you’re telling me this why?”
“Because your grandmother wants you to know the truth. Before your next move.” Katherine reached into her briefcase and pulled something wrapped in cloth.
“She wants you to have this.”
A small ceramic blade, no bigger than a fingernail. Sharp enough to cut. Concealable.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Alessia asked, her hands trembling.
“Whatever you need.” Katherine’s voice was calm. “Your grandmother believes you’re clever. Resourceful. Trained. You’ll figure it out.”
She rewrapped the blade and slid it across the table.
Alessia stared at it. “This is insane. You’re telling me to… escape? Kill someone?”
“No. Stop being a victim.” Katherine stood, gathering her files. “Options: testify against Liam and vanish into witness protection. Go to prison on fabricated charges and watch everyone you care about suffer. Or—”
“Or what?”
“Play the game yourself. Expose Thorne. Expose your father. Expose the arrangement that killed your mother.”
Katherine’s eyes were fierce. “Your grandmother didn’t walk away to watch you become collateral. She walked away to protect you. To give you a chance at justice she never had.”
“How?”
“That’s for you to figure out. But know: you’re not alone. Your grandmother has allies. Resources outside the FBI and the traditional families.” Katherine moved to the door, then paused. “Oh, and Alessia? Liam O’Sullivan has seventy-two hours before the Colombian cartel kills him—or his sister.”
Alessia froze. “What?”
“The debt he took to fund his transition is due. Accounts frozen. He can’t pay. The cartel doesn’t accept excuses.” Katherine’s expression remained neutral. “If you care—and your grandmother believes you do—you might want to factor that in.”
She knocked. Guard opened the door.
“Good luck, Ms. Scarpetti. Your grandmother is counting on you.”
She left.
Alessia palmed the blade, hiding it in the hem of her shirt.
Thorne wasn’t just her handler. He’d covered up her mother’s murder. Played her from the start.
And now Liam—her love, her betrayal—had seventy-two hours to live.
Unless she acted.
But what could she do?
Federal custody. Fabricated charges. No resources. No allies except a grandmother she barely knew and a Council she barely understood.
She sat on the thin mattress, feeling the cold ceramic against her skin.
Stop being a pawn. Start playing the game.
The game had been rigged by the FBI, the Council, decades of corruption.
How was she supposed to win when she didn’t know the rules?
Alessia closed her eyes.
Blade. Knowledge. Seventy-two hours.
Choice.
Play safe and lose everything.
Or gamble everything on one desperate move.
Alessia Scarpetti had spent her whole life being moved around like pieces on someone else’s board.
Maybe it was finally time to flip the board.
Even if it killed her.