63. Chapter Sixty-Three

The moment I see Elio's name pop up on my phone, I know.

He's finally found out, and I still haven't decided how I'm going to deal with it.

I'm surprised it took this long, but it only solidifies my thoughts that he has something going on with Bianca. He seems too involved with our father, yet he only knows anything when she's around. She was due to return from her vacation today. Do I feel bad she had to walk into a dead body that's been lying there for a week? Not really, no. Life sucks. Shit happens. She'll get over it.

I stare at the phone as it buzzes on my desk.

Does he know I did it? Does he think I did? Is he itching for revenge because he thinks someone else did?

I've gone back and forth over the best way to handle this. And I think the best way is the way I always go.

With the truth.

"Elio," I greet.

"Vincenzo," he says softly, sighing an annoyed sound. "Vincenzo, please tell me you didn't."

Well, that answers that.

I wait a beat and say, "I had to."

"Fucking Christ," he growls. "Jesus fucking Christ, Vincenzo!" Something hard slams against something else in the background. Then something is smashed. Elio growls again.

"I had to," I repeat, this time louder. "It was the only way, and you know it."

My heart is pounding. My chest is tight. The only way to make him understand is to stay calm and stick to my guns. This is the moment my life could change forever. The fork in the road. Will my brothers accept what I did, or will they disown me?

"I was figuring it out," he spits.

"No, you were figuring out ways to stall. I handled it, like I said I would."

He sighs again, and he's quiet for way too long. When he speaks again, his voice is soft and tired. "Does Marco know?"

"I haven't talked to him."

"You could have told me."

"You'd have stopped me."

"You're right. Because it was stupid."

"It was the least stupid thing I've ever done, Elio, and you know it. You're just too pissed to see it right now. Without me taking this step, crossing a fucking line I've been sick to my stomach over crossing, we would lose everything," I growl back. "And you fucking know it. Don't talk to me like I'm five. Don't treat me like I am dumb. I know what I did. I saved our asses, and you'll thank me in the future."

"No, Vincenzo! You murdered our father in cold blood!"

"I saved our family!"

"You saved us from losing this stupid empire, from—"

"My wife is pregnant, Elio," I bellow.

"What?" he breathes out.

"She's pregnant. Papa had enemies. Lots of them. If you think us losing this empire would have been the end all, be all of this, you're the stupid one, fratello. Not me. My wife is pregnant. I am having a child, and I will kill anyone in this world who threatens them, and Papa being alive, the way he was—which was no decent way of living, I'll add—was putting my family in danger. Your family. Marco's family. Anyone we ever get close to. Papa had enemies who would have stopped at nothing to end all of us out of fear we would come back. Because we would. It's what we do. It's in our blood. Never mind Zio. They'd have given him more trouble too. Our uncle doesn't need that, and neither do our cousins and their wives, Elio. Don't tell me this was stupid."

He's quiet again. For a long time. My heart is pounding so hard I'm nauseous. I meant every word I said and as difficult as it is to think about, I know I did the right thing.

"You better hope you're right about this, Piccolino."

"I am," I growl. "The treaty is black and white. This is ours now, and there isn't shit they can say about it."

"We'll see about that at the meeting."

The call ends and I drop my phone to the desk, burying my face in my hands. I can't remember the last time I felt so fucking terrible for doing something. It's been years. Fucking years since I've felt like this. I shake my head and go to the bar in the corner. I need a fucking drink.

Talking to him was almost harder than doing what I did in the first place. Admitting it was me who had to do that? Fucking hell.

I don't know if he saw it. Don't know if he sent someone else there. I won't ask. I'll only assume.

I hope to god he didn't have to see our father like that. Even I couldn't look at him after I did it, never mind after the body has been there rotting for a week. It was hard enough seeing our father over the last year, which is why I avoided it. He wasn't the same person. Not the man I remember. Over the last year, he looked at me two ways. With hatred or confusion. Both fucking stung. I couldn't handle it.

It's better this way. What I did, I did it for us. For all of us.

It's better this way.

It has to be because now I have to live with the consequences.