Tony's eyes narrowed at the dark-skinned woman standing a few steps behind Bernardo.
Dressed in a beige office suit—a stark contrast from the red dress she wore before.
Her face was blank.
Emotionless.
As if none of this had anything to do with her.
'Beth.'
'I fucking knew it.'
His grip on Angel tightened.
They were still sitting on the floor.
'I knew something was off about her.'
His mind snapped back to a month ago—Beth's convenient explanations.
And the way she acted.
It was all over the top—like she was reciting her prepared lines.
'Is Nick in this too?'
Remembering Nick calling him about a higher up in the CIA that wanted to talk to him in Piazza Navona.
Tony was more bitter at the thought of Nick—his superior—being one of them.
Nick, who always invited him over for thanksgiving.
The only one that Tony could call his friend.
But then—Bernardo stepped forward, cutting into Tony's line of sight like a curtain of arrogance.
Beth disappeared behind him—not out of protection, but because Bernardo didn't want to share the stage.
Ever.
This was his show.
His plot.
His puppets.
And they would dance to his tune.
"Oh! You two know each other right?" Bernardo clapped.
Like they were family reunited at a garden brunch.
He leaned in, conspiratorial, like he was sharing gossip at a funeral.
"She's your cousin!"
Everybody was surprised.
'A fucking cousin?'
Tony grimaced.
"My eldest—not that I ever introduced her properly."
'So the rumor from before was true?'
He suddenly felt bad for his cousin—Alessandro.
And Alessandro's dead mother.
People always said Bernardo was a womanizer.
That he had bastard children all around the globe.
Tony never believed it—not as a boy.
Bernardo had always been kind and gentle to him.
And to Antonia.
He always looked like a perfect son to Don Leon.
A brother to Leandro.
An uncle to Tony and his siblings.
And a perfect father to Alessandro.
But now?
Tony gritted his teeth.
Now, he could see behind the mask.
And something inside him died.
It was all a lie.
"You know how men are," Bernardo continued.
'I'm not like you!' Tony wanted to spit.
Then Bernardo winked before turning his back.
He strolled casually across the wreckage like it was his own living room.
Ignoring the marbled floor full of debris and blood.
His shoes crunched at shattered glass.
Humming to himself.
"Aha!"
He spotted a usable chair.
Dragged it out—slowly.
The screech of wood against marble scraped through Tony's skull like nails.
Bernardo sat—right in front of Tony, Angel and the bleeding Don Leon—now lying alone.
Bandaged.
Still.
Barely breathing.
"Well, where do I even start?" Bernardo smiled too wide.
His teeth, stark white.
His eyes sparkled—like someone tasting a sweet victory.
But beneath the smile was something sharp.
Cold.
Cruel.
Calculated.
He adjusted his glasses like a professor about to lecture.
His gaze locked onto Tony.
They are almost on the same eye level.
Blue eyes to silver.
"Hm.." Bernardo hummed again.
He studied Tony's face and eyes.
"It's spooky. I always hated the original Don's silver eyes."
Then his lips curled—part admiration, part venomous.
"You looked exactly like the old Don.. mine and Leandro's grandfather."
His gaze slid to Angel—trembling and clinging to Tony.
Angel was still shocked from the gunshots earlier and his ears are still ringing.
Violet eyes wet with tears.
'Oh hoh.. Interesting..' Bernardo thought.
Then back to Tony, who was wrapped around Angel like a shield.
'Isn't this Federico's gift? It's on the report.. but why are you..?'
Something clicked in his eyes, as if understanding what they are for each other.
Recognition.
Disgust.
And then—a sick kind of curiosity.
His lips parted, flicked his eyes to Don Leon, who despite the pain, was glaring daggers.
"Is this what I think it is?" Bernardo asked softly.
His voice turned gentle.
So terribly out of place.
"We really do share the same abominable blood.." he mused.
Then he threw his head back and laughed.
Loud.
Alone.
Delighted.
"Oh my god, old man.. your heir.. is into men?"
And then—he struck Tony.
"That's why you failed to seduce him, huh, Beth?"
It was a brutal smack across Tony's face.
Angel flinched—then hit the cold floor with a cry—unable to handle the force of Bernardo's hands.
Beth didn't even blink.
She was more bored of his father's theatrics.
"Aren't you lucky?" Bernardo sneered.
"You won't have a problem with kids fighting over your legacy?"
Tony's head was still snapped sideways.
"Its—"
Bernardo continued talking—while blood trickled from Tony's nose.
"—because he won't have kids!"
Swelling bloomed under Tony's left eye.
Skin purpling.
Vision blurring.
Bernardo whistled, shaking his fist like a sportsman.
"It's perfect, really. No first-born tradition. No messy succession battles. No bratty grandkids. Just power—yours alone!"
Tony wanted to strangle him.
Not because of the pain.
But because Angel had fallen.
"Do not glare at me, boy."
Then Bernardo's eyes drifted automatically to the Don, "You too, father?"
Both the Don and Tony glared.
But Tony's was worse.
Jaw clenched.
Veins bulging.
Knuckles turning white.
Then Tony spoke.
Low.
Controlled.
Deadly.
"You're the one who killed Antonia."
It's not a question.
It's a fact.
Bernardo covered his mouth with his hand.
But everybody can tell he was grinning.
"Oh. You already know? Did the old fart tell you?"
He shrugged.
"Yes, I killed her."
He said it like he was swatting a fly.
"She was getting… annoying."
He sat up straighter.
"And the old fart over there.." he gestured to Don Leon,"..broke the tradition of first borns himself, so she'd become irrelevant to my plans."
"I groomed her for years… so I could use her."
He said without shame.
Without regret.
Like he was discussing a business deal.
"Motherfucker!"
Tony started to stand—but Angel hugged his back and stopped him from moving.
"Please, don't.." he whispered to Tony.
Angel can feel Tony's taut body like a bowstring.
Bernardo eyed them and ignored Tony's outburst.
"Because she was the first born between you two, so I thought—if I got her pregnant, she'd demand I marry her."
A pause.
He let the words about Antonia being pregnant before she died settled.
"She's pregnant?" Tony whispered.
His eyes turned glassy.
Disbelief written in his face.
"Then I would have gotten my birthright without spilling blood. Easy peasy."
Silence.
"Oh, but you know how Antonia is—she's a brat."
He started ticking off fingers.
"Entitled."
"Emotional."
Then his face changes again.
"She got cold feet and wants to abort my blood."
He leaned in.
"Then the old fart over there went and named you heir after she confessed to me that she'd gotten pregnant.. so.."
His voice was getting lower.
"I strangled her. I made sure she'd never speak nonsense again."
His eyes narrowed.
Watched Tony's expressions.
Tony felt like the world suddenly stopped.
"Even if I marry her then, the Santa De Leones wouldn't be mine, because of you."
He stood up.
"Manipulative old men. Just like his father. Just when I think I finally got what I deserved.. what I'm destined to be.."
And then—Bernardo kicked Don Leon in the ribs.
The old man could only groan.
"You'd go and ruin it!"
And Angel gasped in horror.
He felt so helpless.
He looked at Tony's back.
'It must be hard for him to control his anger..'
Angel's heart goes to the old man and Tony.
And to the woman named Antonia.
He closed his eyes, unable to take in the violence that he was seeing for the first time.
"Just like what your father did to me, Don Leon!"
Bernardo's voice rose, manic.
"I was the first born! Not Leandro! Why? Why would you deny me my right?"
Then Bernardo stepped on Don Leon's bandage chest.
"Is it because you lot are afraid of my mother's bloodline? You didn't want her people to gain power—or are you jealous for your son with that bitch Alicia—your beloved dead wife? So you and him manipulated my birth! The son outside of your marriage?"
He kicked Don Leon again.
"You—let—him—erased—me!"
Each word punctuated by savage blows to the helpless old man.
"You were a shitty father!"
Then he finally stopped,
Panting.
Rage burned off him like a steam.
He straightened his collar.
Pushed his glasses up.
Smoothed his hair.
Then he calmly smiled.
"Hah.. anyway," he exhaled.
"You understand now, right? Why I had to resort to this?"
He raised his arms.
Almost messianic.
"We Santa De Leones men—"
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"—have always been more actions than words."
Don Leon groaned.
More blood is coming out of his mouth and his wounded back.
"You're not my son…" the old man rasped.
His eyes blazed despite the pain.
"You are my father's son—"
Bernardo froze.
"Not mine," Don Leon finished his words through gritted teeth.
"Hah! Lies!" Bernardo yelled and stomped his feet.
"Liar liar, your pants were on fire!"
Like a child throwing a tantrum.
Bernardo's face twisted.
He gestured to his men.
Guns raised instantly.
"Goodby—"
Suddenly a shout.
"GET DOWN NOW!"
Alvaro—Tony's satellite phone in his hand.
Tony and Angel dove over Don Leon, shielding him.
Alvaro did the same to his unconscious father.
WHOOSH
FWEE
KABOOM!
An explosion ripped through the far wall.
Fire.
Smoke.
Shattered tiles.
Glass.
The mahjong table flipped.
Someone screamed.
Then—silence.
Just ringing in their ears.
And then—
CLICK
CLICK
Heels.
Measured.
"I—
Deliberate.
Out of the smoke walked Maria Santa De Leones.
"—was—"
Her braid swinging down on her back.
A combat launcher slung over her shoulder like a purse.
"—at Mass."
She surveyed the restaurant or what was left of it—like a queen returning to her court.
"But I heard my husband was unconscious?" she said coolly.
CLICK
CLICK
She stepped forward.
"Is he still alive?"
**