Chapter 99

NARRATOR

The afternoon fell over Sicily like a heavy veil, the thick, salty air charged with a tension that clung to the skin like sea mist. The sky was leaden gray, low clouds threatening a storm, as if the Mediterranean sensed that calm was a fleeting luxury the De Lucas could no longer afford. The wind howled through the ancient cypresses while Sebastián drove in silence toward his brother’s villa, the black SUV devouring the winding road with restrained power.

He hadn’t slept in two nights; deep dark circles marked his face like battle scars, and the image of Valentina destroying everything at home—glass flying, furniture smashed—haunted him even with his eyes open, mixed with the frightened faces of his children, Sofia trembling and Marco hardened too soon.

When he arrived, Santiago was waiting on the cobblestone drive, a lit cigarette between his fingers and a look that needed no words: brotherly, hardened by years of shared secrets. Smoke rose lazily, dissolving into the damp air.

“Her again?” Santiago asked as soon as his brother stepped out of the car, crushing the cigarette under his boot with a sharp motion.

Sebastián nodded, running a hand over his gaunt face.

“She’s out of control, Santiago. This time… I don’t know if there’s any turning back. She smashed everything, screamed like she was insane. The kids saw it. I can’t leave them there.”

Santiago exhaled slowly.

“Come in. We’ll talk inside. Elena’s in the garden with Diego; the kid’s obsessed with those damn ants again.”

The interior of the villa smelled of freshly baked bread and strong coffee, a comforting aroma that clashed with the external chaos. Despite the weight they all carried, the place felt genuinely like home: whitewashed walls with framed family photos, toys scattered across the living room, the distant echo of children’s laughter.

Elena had managed to turn a cold, fortified mansion into a warm refuge. When Sebastián entered, she wiped her hands on her flour-stained floral apron and smiled at him with that maternal tenderness that always disarmed him.

“You look exhausted, Sebastián,” she said, stepping forward to hug him briefly. “Come, sit down. I’ll make you a strong espresso.”

“No, thank you,” he replied, though his voice lacked strength. “I came to ask you a favor… a big one.”

Santiago crossed his arms, serious.

“You don’t have to ask. Speak. We’re blood.”

Sebastián drew a deep breath, his chest tightening.

“Valentina is… not well. I don’t know if she’s completely lost her mind, but after what she saw, I found her wrecking the house like she was possessed. The kids witnessed everything. I can’t leave them there with her. I need you to keep them here for a few days. Sofia and Marco. Protect them.”

Elena stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm.

“Of course, Sebastián. They can stay as long as they need. It’ll do Diego good to have company. We’ll treat them as our own.”

Sebastián looked at her with deep gratitude, his eyes moistening for a moment.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Elena. You’ve been through so much, and you’re still always there.”

She smiled modestly.

“That’s what family does, isn’t it? Take care of each other, even when it hurts.”

Santiago placed a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“You’re not alone, Sebastián. We’ll get through this mess. Valentina can scream, break things, threaten—whatever—but the kids shouldn’t suffer for her madness. They’ll be safe here.”

Silence settled for a few seconds, heavy but comforting.

Sebastián nodded slowly, his jaw tight.

“There’s something else…” he said quietly. “I want Elena to take them to the main mansion. Lucía is there too, with the twins. She’s thinking of leaving for good. And… I don’t want her to. She needs support right now, more than ever. Mateo asked her for patience over the phone, but with that scandal in Mexico… she’s shattered, on the edge.”

Elena looked at him with infinite empathy.

“Then we’ll all go. Diego is dying to see the twins again; he mentions them in his prayers every night. Maybe a house full of children will bring some life back to that cold place.”

Santiago looked at her approvingly, a subtle smile curving his lips.

“Good idea, love. Sometimes all it takes is a little childlike noise to drive away the demons.”

When they arrived at the main mansion—that stone fortress perched on the cliffs, with endless views of the raging sea—the air felt heavier, laden with history and secrets.

Lucía stood in the wide foyer, half-closed suitcases scattered across the marble floor, her face pale and drawn. When she saw them enter—Elena holding Diego’s hand, the De Luca children stepping cautiously—she tried to smile, but her voice broke.

“You didn’t have to come… really, it’s not necessary,” she murmured, kneeling to hug the twins.

Sebastián set his coat over the back of an antique chair and looked at her seriously.

“You’re leaving? Just like that?”

“I can’t stay here anymore, Sebastián,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “Mateo denied me before the whole world. Me and my daughters, as if we were a disgrace. I don’t want to keep being part of this, of this endless waiting.”

“Lucía,” he said, stepping closer, “don’t judge him so quickly. I know what he said hurt, but he did it for you. The bishop left him no choice. The press would have torn you apart.”

She shook her head, unable to hold back her tears.

“I can’t keep waiting for him, Sebastián. I can’t raise my daughters hoping that one day he’ll decide to be a real father.”

Sebastián sighed, the weight of generations falling on his shoulders.

“Please, listen. If you leave now, you’ll put yourself and the girls in danger. Valentina is out of her mind, angrier than ever. And if she knows you’re alone, vulnerable… she could use that to hurt you. Stay. At least until things calm down. For them.”

Lucía looked at him distrustfully, but Sebastián held her gaze with raw honesty.

“Look, I know what I’m talking about. I grew up in a house where love was confused with fear. My father taught us to survive, not to live: he forced us to hold a gun before we knew how to pray properly. Santiago and I were barely children when he took us on our first ‘job.’

“And Mateo… he was different. The soft one, the dreamer. Mother always protected him, even when it cost her our father’s blows. Father despised him because he saw in him what we had lost: pure innocence. So when I hear him speaking from the altar, lying with pain in his voice, I understand that he does it out of twisted love, not shame.”

Lucía listened in silence, her heart tight.

“I can’t promise everything will magically fix itself,” Sebastián continued, “but I’m asking you to stay. For the children. Valentina already knows you, senses you as a weakness. If she completely loses her mind, she could hurt anyone.”

Lucía closed her eyes.

“All right,” she finally whispered. “I’ll stay. But not for Mateo. I’m staying for them—for the little ones who didn’t choose this.”

Sebastián nodded, subtle relief easing his shoulders.

“That’s enough. For now.”

Night fell like a heavy blanket over the mansion. Dinner was a silent truce in the large dining room. Elena, ever the mediator, tried to fill the gaps with light conversation.

“Did you know Diego learned how to make homemade pizza?” she said with a laugh. “He promised to teach us tomorrow.”

Diego smiled shyly.

“But only if you help me with the ingredients. And no olives for Sofia—she hates them!”

Sofia let out a small laugh, the first since she arrived, a fragile but real sound. Marco followed, lifting his gaze from his plate, a crooked smile appearing. The twins babbled in Lucía’s arms, and for a moment, their childish laughter replaced the weight of the past.

Sebastián watched the scene in silence, a glass of wine in his hands. For a second, he believed that this—this noisy table, these overlapping voices—was the closest thing to peace he would ever have.

Santiago looked at him from the other end, raising his glass.

“Not bad, huh? A dinner without shouting or bullets flying.”

Sebastián gave a faint, tired smile.

“Don’t get comfortable, brother. Storms always come when the sea grows calm. And this sea… is too quiet.”

The next morning, Sebastián and Santiago left early for the main warehouse—the heart of the empire. The drive passed in complicit silence until Santiago’s phone vibrated. He answered without stopping the car. His expression changed instantly: eyes narrowing, jaw tightening.

“What did you say?” he asked in a low, lethal voice.

Sebastián looked at him, instantly alert.

“What is it?”

Santiago hung up, gripping the steering wheel hard.

“We’ve got a problem. A big one.”

“What kind of problem?”

“Someone sold information to the Russians,” Santiago said, his face hardened. “Precise information about our shipping routes, safe ports, upcoming cargo. Everything that could screw our business for months.”

Sebastián went still, the air inside the car turning thick.

“Who?”

Santiago glanced at him, expression grim.

“We don’t know yet… but whoever did it knew exactly where to strike. At the heart.”

Sebastián clenched his fists, veins swelling.

“Then let the hunt begin. We’ll clean house, no matter the cost.”

The car disappeared among the green hills while, back at the mansion, far from them, the shadows began to move with a life of their own.

Because the enemy was no longer outside, lurking at the borders.

The enemy carried their same last name, and betrayal was simmering in their own blood.