"I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?"
"You're the ones who owe an apology!"
Disappointment welled up in Lorenzo Falcone's eyes.
"Caterina Falcone, when did you turn into this? You're completely impossible!"
Before I could say a word, Vittorio had already stepped forward to help him up, the old Don moving with the slow authority of a man used to the room bending around him.
"Take Adriana to a doctor first. I'll handle things here under my own roof."
Lorenzo carried Adriana out of the house.
My mother trailed behind Vittorio, apologizing in that meek, servile voice, both hands smoothing the front of her dress as she went, a servant's reflex she could never unlearn.
Six years of love vanished like smoke in that single moment.
I took my luggage and checked into a hotel on the far edge of Falcone territory, where no one knew my name.
Before I left, I pried the camera out of the stuffed toy.
I mailed it to Lorenzo.
By my calculation, it would reach him right on his wedding day.
I'd thought that once I was gone, this whole charade could finally close its curtain.
But that night, Lorenzo sent a message to explain:
"Adriana agreed to play along and stand at the altar as a favor to me. I owed her that. You hurt her, and there was no way to smooth it over, so making you apologize was only to keep my father from getting suspicious. Don't read too much into it."
"Rest well. I had a gown custom-made for you. Wear it to the wedding. Be good. I'm your brother, and that will never change, not in this lifetime."
But I knew this performance was never meant for Vittorio's eyes.
It was meant for mine.
Only my leaving could end it for good.
For the next two days, I didn't go back to the Estate.
Neither did he.
He was busy putting together the wedding venue where two bloodlines would be bound.
Busy picking out jewelry for Adriana.
No gift from him ever came.
What came instead was word that he'd thrown a fortune at a yacht for Adriana.
It was so he could take her to that little island named after the two of them.
On the morning of the wedding, I called him.
He was busy giving orders to Matteo and didn't get to me.
"Is the footage ready? Remember, the moment she walks in, start playing it. Make sure every guest sees."
"You sure about this?" A pause. In the quiet I could almost hear the unlit cigarette turning between Matteo's fingers. "Once that footage runs, there's no turning back for you."
"Do exactly as I said. I've waited six years for this day."
"Keep an eye on her mother. Watch she doesn't cause a scene."
Only after Matteo turned and walked off did he remember the open line.
"Cara? The wedding's about to start. I'll drive over and pick you up myself in a bit. Wait for me at the house."
"Here's a little secret. It's always the bride who gets picked up at a wedding. Doesn't it feel like your brother's marrying you all over again?"
"Don't sulk anymore."
I looked at the plane ticket in my hand and let out a mocking laugh.
"Happy wedding, brother."
He froze for a beat, then laughed softly.
"Why the sudden 'brother' today? I still like hearing you say my name."
"Wait for me like a good girl. I'll be there soon."
The call ended, and I turned and boarded the plane that would carry me across the ocean, the only way anyone truly leaves a Family alive.
I deleted every one of his contacts.
The wedding began.
Lorenzo kept replaying that call in his head, and unease rose in his chest. The music, the assembled guests, the tribute laid out for two families made one — none of it stilled the thing turning cold beneath his ribs.
Just as he was about to set out to pick me up.
Matteo pushed through the doors from outside, the ruined lens in his hands, and this time there was no cigarette between his fingers at all.
"It's bad. Caterina found out about the footage you shot!"
"She left on a flight first thing this morning, and that flight was just reported to have gone down into the sea!"
