Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
As my determination grows, I slip into the crowd heading toward the stadium three towns over. Palermo FC made the semifinals this year, and the city is buzzing. The excitement offers the perfect cover. No one looks twice at a man in a cap moving with purpose.
I slide unnoticed into the back of a surveillance van. Matteo and Giovanni nod at me from the front seat. Nico is hunched over a laptop, fingers flying, and Elio stands by his side, arms crossed, focused on every line of code Nico inputs in the system.
The tightness spread across my chest loosens a fraction when I spot Lucia on one of the many monitors. She’s in the back of a taxi, looking pale but determined.
Marco sits in the driver’s seat, disguised under a full beard and the contacts Lucia regularly used while dancing. I almost laugh when he begrudgingly scratches at the wiry material digging into his neck. It took me three attempts to grow a full beard since I kept shaving it off when it hit the scratchy part of the growth.
“He looks like a different man,” Nico murmurs.
I grunt in agreement. I had no fucking clue how much facial hair changes the structure of a face until now. Maybe if I had remained clean-shaven, it wouldn’t have taken Anna four years to find me. The outcome of her hunt would still have had the same results, but I wouldn’t have missed four years of my daughter’s life.
Giovanni checks that his gun is loaded when Lucia’s taxi pulls up at an abandoned lot near the docks. He won’t move until given the order, but Giovanni and Matteo have always been the muscle of our operation. I handle logistics and money, and Nico and Elio are responsible for keeping up with the modern advancements a lot of Cosa Nostra families aren’t using efficiently enough to keep their profit margins high.
There’s as much money to be made in cyber trade as there is in drug manufacturing.
After handing Marco a fare as any commuter would, Lucia slips out, clutching her backpack to her chest. She barely breaks free of the crowd waiting for the next ferry when part of a figure emerges from the shadows.
It isn’t the typical shape and width of a man. The shoulders are narrower, and a large-brimmed hat pulled low, with the owner’s head deliberately tilted away from the sky, conceals long, glossy locks.
As the stranger wearing an outfit you’d expect a widower to wear at a funeral approaches Lucia, she keeps her face concealed like she knows about the satellite cameras Nico installed last night. Their live feed can’t be interrupted with a general blocker, so she purposely avoids them.
Lucia’s voice carries through the audio feed, shaky but fierce. “I should have known it was you. When your Cinderella act didn’t work, you cooked up another scheme to force me to pay for what you wrongly believe I owe. How could you do this? How could you place the fault of my father’s bankruptcy on my child and me? I’m not Cinderella, and you’re not the wicked stepmother with her evil daughters.”
Her last sentence fetters my brows together.
I’ve heard it before.
Years ago.
From someone else.
The woman’s snarky tone forces my thoughts back to the present. “Your father was a good man until he met your mother.” She pays Lucia’s disbelieving huff no attention. “And just like her, you ruined everything because you couldn’t keep your slutty little legs closed.”
My nails dig into my palm when Lucia says, “I was being forced into a marriage with a man twice my age! What did you expect me to do? Smile? Pretend it was normal?”
The woman’s gasp matches mine. “I expected you to be the good, obedient little virgin I had raised. Not a whore who gives her virginity to the first man who tossed her a bone.”
“Nothing he said to me that night was to get into my panties! He liked me for me.”
The woman’s laughter is demoralizing. “That’s what all sluts say.” Although I can’t see her face, I imagine the scornful glare she’s giving Lucia is full of hate. “It wouldn’t have been so bad if you’d told the truth from the start. All of this could have been avoided if you’d shared the child’s father’s identity from the get-go.”
“I didn’t know who he was. He was wearing a mask. We both agreed anonymity was for the best.” I can barely hear Lucia through the blood rushing in my ears, but I strive to decipher every word she says next. “And don’t act like it would have changed anything. You hate Edoardo, so why would knowing who he was earlier make anything better?”
The woman shifts from one foot to the other. “Yes. Edoardo. Of course.” Her swift switch-up doubles my whiplash. “The money. Where is it?”