The Boy I Chose Became My Ruin

The council began at eight.

Every Caruso captain in New York had already taken his seat in my grandfather's dining room. The men who ran the docks, the clubs, the union contracts, and the security routes all came in black suits, with their soldiers waiting outside the doors.

I sat on Don Angelo's left.

The chair on my right was empty.

Matteo was late.

My grandfather glanced at the empty chair once but said nothing. He had been calmer than I expected all evening, as if Matteo's absence did not surprise him. I thought he was giving Matteo room to come back from whatever madness Elena Voss had dragged him into.

Marco stood behind me, close enough that I could hear the slight shift of his jacket whenever his hand brushed the gun beneath it.

At the head of the table, Don Angelo rose with one hand resting on his silver cane.

The room quieted at once.

"I called you here tonight for two matters," he said. "The first concerns the future of this family."

No one moved.

My grandfather looked down the table at the men who had served him for decades.

"From this day forward, Vivian speaks with my authority. When I step down, she takes my seat. Anyone who questions her questions me."

A silence settled over the room.

Then Salvatore Russo stood first and lowered his head to me.

"Donna-in-waiting."

The others followed one by one.

Some did it willingly. Some did it because they had enough sense to know Don Angelo's decision was not an invitation to argue. Either way, they stood, and the room acknowledged me as heir.

Just as the last captain sat down, applause came from the doorway.

Everyone turned.

Matteo stood at the entrance in a black suit, one hand still raised from the last clap. His injured leg was hidden beneath the clean line of his trousers, though I could tell he was keeping most of his weight off it. Behind him were several men I did not recognize.

At first, I only thought he had come to challenge me in front of the family because of Elena.

Then I saw the two Caruso guards near the door lower their eyes instead of stopping him.

Something in the room shifted.

My grandfather noticed it too.

"You're late," Don Angelo said.

Matteo smiled faintly. "I had to prepare a gift."

A few captains exchanged looks.

My grandfather did not ask what he meant. He only tapped his cane once against the floor.

"Come here."

Matteo walked into the dining room.

No one stopped him. He had guarded this house for years, eaten at this table, and stood behind my chair through more councils than I could count. Even after last night, even after Elena, no one in that room expected him to turn a gun on the man who raised me.

He came to my side.

He did not look at me.

My grandfather gestured for both of us to stand.

I rose first. Matteo followed.

Don Angelo looked at the room again.

"The second matter concerns an old debt," he said. "Years ago, the Bellandi family stood with us when this city tried to break us. We believed their last heir died with them. Recently, I learned that was not true."

The room stirred.

I turned toward my grandfather.

He had not told me this.

Matteo's expression did not change, but his hand moved slightly at his side.

Don Angelo continued, "A boy survived. He grew up under another name, and tonight I intend to return to him what should never have been taken."

My grandfather turned toward Matteo.

"Matteo Greco is—"

The gunshot came from beside me.

It was so close that my ears rang.

For one second, I did not understand why my grandfather had stopped speaking.

Then blood spread across the front of his white shirt.

Don Angelo looked down at the wound, then back at Matteo. The disbelief in his eyes was worse than fear.

He had not expected it either.

Then he fell.

"Grandfather!"

I lunged forward, but Matteo caught my arm and pulled me back. Chairs scraped against the floor as the room erupted. Guns came out, men shouted, and Marco reached for his weapon.

Before he could draw, the men behind Matteo raised their guns.

Two of our own guards turned their weapons on the captains.

My stomach went cold.

Matteo had men inside my grandfather's house.

Marco froze with his hand under his jacket.

Matteo pressed the barrel of his gun to my temple.

"Everyone stay where you are."

His voice was steady.

That steadiness terrified me more than the gun.

I tried to pull away from him, but his grip tightened around my arm. My grandfather lay only a few feet away, blood spreading beneath him. His fingers moved once against the floor.

He was still alive.

"Let me go to him," I said.

Matteo did not move.

"Please."

He looked down at Don Angelo.

Then he fired again.

My grandfather's hand stopped moving.

The entire room went silent.

For a moment, I could not hear anything, not the captains, not Marco calling my name, not even my own breathing. I only saw my grandfather's body on the floor and Matteo's hand still wrapped around the gun.

The same hand that had once held mine in the dark.

The same hand that had pressed my palm over the V tattooed on his chest.

I turned my head and looked at him.

"Why?"

Matteo's eyes were red, but his face was calm.

"My name is Matteo Bellandi."

The room broke into shocked whispers.

Bellandi was a dead name, or so everyone had believed. The family had been wiped out fifteen years ago, their estate burned, their men slaughtered, their heir declared dead before he was old enough to know what had happened.

I stared at Matteo.

My grandfather had been about to say the same name.

He had been about to give it back to him.

Matteo looked over the captains with a coldness I had never seen in him before.

"The Caruso family thought they buried us all," he said. "They missed one."

Marco's face twisted with anger.

"You fool," he said. "Don Angelo was trying to restore your name."

Matteo's gun snapped toward him.

"Do not speak."

"He thought you were dead," Marco said, ignoring the weapon. "He spent years looking for that boy."

Matteo's jaw tightened.

"Convenient."

I found my voice through the pain burning in my throat.

"He was telling the room who you were. He was going to bring you back as Bellandi."

Matteo looked down at me.

For a second, something changed in his eyes. It was small, but I saw it. Doubt passed through him before he forced it away.

"He was going to use me," he said.

"No," I said. "He was going to claim you."

The words landed between us.