Chapter 13
Matteo came to us.
That surprised Victor most.
He arrived the next morning in a dark coat, old-fashioned as ever, with two men and no visible fear.
My guards surrounded him.
He smiled.
“Antonio.”
“Uncle.”
His eyes moved toward Isabella.
No surprise.
That mattered.
He knew she survived.
I saw it.
She saw it too.
“You knew,” I said.
Matteo removed his gloves slowly.
“I suspected.”
Same language.
Different liar.
Victor laughed bitterly.
Matteo looked at him.
“You always were useful when frightened.”
Victor stood.
“Careful.”
I raised one hand.
Both stopped.
I asked Matteo directly.
“Did you order the shooting?”
“No.”
“Did Adrian?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know before?”
Silence.
That was enough.
Matteo finally said:
“I did not stop him.”
My jaw clenched.
“Why?”
“Because you needed humility.”
Isabella laughed.
Not kindly.
Matteo ignored her.
“You centralized Ravello. You ignored elder advice. You married a woman who questioned men twice her age.”
“That is your defense?”
“It is context.”
Always.
Context.
Duty.
Tradition.
Words men use when they want consequences without responsibility.
I looked at him.
“And the fire?”
He hesitated longer.
“I ordered Adrian to frighten Isabella.”
Victor cursed.
Matteo continued.
“The fire was not ordered.”
I believed he believed that.
Maybe Adrian escalated.
Maybe someone else did.
Some truths never become perfectly clean.
But enough was clear.
Matteo built the pressure.
Adrian turned pressure into violence.
May you like
Victor turned violence into opportunity.
And Isabella paid for all of them.
