Chapter 301: 301

Val's brain swam as the voice of Bianca floated through the candle-lit church. She tensed as she heard Luca's voice through the wire hidden in her collar, terse and quiet: "Val, don't move from where you are. Don't move. We're monitoring."

Bianca turned in a slow motion, the click-clack of her heels a metronome beating disaster on the stone floor.

"You want to know the truth?" Bianca sat on a thick metal bench, waiting for Talon to return, eyes taking in their bloodstained clothing and the hole in Kennard's neck. When Talon outpaced her again, she gripped the bars she faced, longing for a weapon.

"Sit," he said gently as they descended down a set of wide stairs into a well-lit underground grotto. Val dropped onto another bench beside Bianca who seemed content to gaze at nothing while curled against his body. Val was still standing there, bearing down heavily on her crutches. "Fine. I'll tell you everything. At the very least, I owe Isabella that.”

She sighed, and when she spoke again, the register of her voice had dropped to something lower and almost nonchalant. “Isabella and I had the same father. A rich man, violent in ways that do not leave physical scars. Isabella was his own legitimate daughter—fair, favoured, loving. I was the bastard. The mistake he kept hidden."

Val listened, scanning the woman’s face for falsehoods, but only found pain that appeared heartbreakingly authentic.

"When Isabella moved out of our father's house at eighteen, I was so sure she had left me. "I was furious. I spent years despising her that she got away when I was still trapped. But she returned, years later. She tried to save me. She provided money to me, she connected for me, she encouraged for me. What she didn’t do doesn’t matter — she risked it all to help me escape that living nightmare.”

"So why did you kill her?" Val asked, her voice calm and firm despite the shaking in her own hands.

“I didn’t do it,” Bianca said, and her voice broke but a little. "I loved her. I was jealous — of the childhood we didn’t have in common, of the life she had that I did not. But I never hoped to see her dead, Valentina. Your father did."

Val's stomach tightened. "That's impossible. My father loved my mother."

"Did he?" Bianca reached beneath the pew and handed her a manila folder, sliding it across the floor to Val. "Look for yourself. Really look."

Val hesitated, then came forward, the crutches awkward on the stone. The folder trembled in her fingers as she opened it.

They contained photos of Isabella’s car on the morning of the accident — and her brake lines were clearly cut, not worn from age. Bank records revealed payments from an account controlled by Antonio to a mechanic, Marcus Viletti. There followed the text messages and email communications between Antonio and Viletti about “the job” and “making it look natural.”

The last was a death certificate for Marcus Viletti six months after Isabella’s fall. Cause of death: suicide by ingestion. It was too convenient, and too coincidental

“This evidence took me fifteen years to accumulate,” Bianca said in hushed tones. “Buying mechanics, forensic detectives, things of that nature,” people who owed me favors. I just need to be very sure before I make a move. Your mother was murdered by your father, Valentina. And he got away with it."

Val's hands were trembling so much the papers almost fell from them. "Why should I believe you? These could be fabricated."

"Could be," Bianca agreed. “But just ask yourself — would I want to go through all of this if it weren’t true? Would I have created an elaborate conspiracy, hired men and ruined lives if I didn't know? I didn’t get back at you on speculation, Valentina. I did it because I know exactly what your father is like.”

Bianca got to her feet and advanced slowly on Val, pacing around her like a predator measuring up its meal. “Well I was jealous of Isabella, yeah. Frustrated about the childhood we did not experience together. But more than anything, I wanted her killer to feel the pain she felt. I wanted him to be powerless. Broken. Alone."

Val had to force herself not to stare at Bianca's face. "If you have all this evidence, why can't you go to the police? Why come after me? Why Lucas? Why this... revenge scheme?"

“’Cause the cops aren’t gonna give two shits about some bastard sister’s word against a powerful man,” Bianca said, coldly. "Money, as well know, can purchase silence, and your father has a lot of money. I would have said that because I wanted him to know how it feels to lose everything that was important.”

She hesitated, head canting as though she was considering Val more seriously. “I wanted to see if you were the same as Isabella — brave, self-sacrificing, noble enough to look beyond your own selfish desires. Or you were Antonio yourself: selfish, weak, prepared to ruin anyone who threatened your ease.”

Bianca swooped even closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You're more like your mother. That's unfortunate. It means I can use you."

"I'm not going to aid and abet you in murdering my father," Val said firmly. “Even if that’s what you are saying I am, I’m not going to be a part of this.”

"You don't have a choice." Bianca raised her phone, swiveled the screen toward Val.

The penthouse was shown via a live video feed. Alecia on the other hand, Kennedy and Liv were tied to chairs, their heads drooping like they had been knocked out. Behind them, figures with guns shifted around, testing weapons, tightening restraints.

"Right now my guys are inside Lucas's penthouse," Bianca said matter-of-factly.

"State-of-the-art security system compromised. Building sealed. And if I haven't phoned to give clearance codes within five minutes, they burn the apartment in all four corners. They will die of the smoke without waiting for the flames."

Val’s breaths were quick, panicky gasps. "You're lying."

"Am I?" Bianca showed her the time stamp on the video. It updated in real-time "Call your father. Tell him to come here, alone. Tell him if he isn't there in 15 minutes, I am going to send the order. We will kill everyone Lucas cares about and make them die screaming.”

Over the wire, Luca's voice was suddenly a knife: "Val, we got movement at the penthouse. Men everywhere, armed and heading towards a building. We were betrayed — she divided us. I’m drawing out of church now –“

Bianca’s smile grew wider, triumphant and awful. She saw it in Val's eyes—the instant she knew the trap had fallen into place exactly where they wanted.

"Oh, Valentina," Bianca said softly. "You really think I wouldn't know the wire? All around this church? This was always the plan. Divide your forces. Make him decide: either you or them. If you can’t nail Bill or baby him into saying his campaign is actually about the people, force your opponent to swat at the smaller targets: Make him decide which daughter is more important."

Val’s hands trembled as she took out her phone. She had no feeling in the fingers she used to punch her father’s number into her phone.

"Antonio," she said when he picked up. Her voice didn’t even waver despite the terror that filled her, though she wanted to scream. You must go to the old church on Via dei Santi. Come alone. Right now."

"Valentina? What's happening? Are you hurt? Where's Lucas—"

“Just get in,” Val cut her off, harsher than she intended. "Or everyone dies. Everyone I love dies."

She disconnected the call before he could ask more questions.

Bianca held her phone in one hand and began a countdown, with the thumb of her other hovering over a button. "Ninety seconds now. Your father should arrive soon. And then we’ll see if he has the balls to tell you the truth of what he did to Isabella.”