My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 647

Chapter 647

Vincenzo finally spoke, “What did he bring?”

“Ciro.”

Dante frowned, “Ciro?”

Luca nodded once, “Giovanni handed him over alive as a gesture of good faith. Apparently, when he discovered Ciro was one of ours watching his territory, he wanted answers. That conversation eventually led him to Gianna. Ciro brought him here.”

My jaw tightened, “Ciro brought him into our home?” I said, as I looked toward the estate, “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

“Giovanni didn’t ask for anything in return. He handed Ciro over to me, then asked if he could see his daughter. That was all.”

My eyes found Giovanni again. He still hadn’t looked at a single one of us. His entire attention remained on Gianna and Gianna still hadn’t let go of him.

Adriano’s jaw hardened, “You trusted him?”

“No,” Luca answered without a second’s hesitation, “I respected the moment.”

His eyes drifted toward Hazel’s freshly covered grave.

“We buried a woman less than five minutes ago. There will be another day to remind Don Toricelli whose land he’s standing on. Another day to settle debts. Another day to test each other’s strength. Today isn’t that day. Gianna has lost more in the last forty- eight hours than most people lose in a lifetime.”

Luca shook his head once.

“I wasn’t going to deny her the only parent she has left because of a rivalry that can wait another hour. We’re Capones. We choose when wars begin and today, we chose not to.”

Luca rarely wasted words. When he spoke this much. He had already thought through every possible argument.

Finally, Luca nodded toward the guards surrounding the cemetery.

“Keep your weapons ready. Keep your eyes open. Watch every tree. Watch every entrance. Trust no one but unless Giovanni gives us a reason, this funeral ends as a funeral,” he paused, “Don’t make today about us.”

No one argued with him.

The funeral was over.

Most of the guests had already left.

Black cars disappeared through the gates one after another until only our own security remained.

Vincenzo sat behind his desk, fingers loosely linked together, looking as though he had all the time in the world.

Adriano leaned against the bookshelf with his arms folded. Dante stood beside the fireplace. Luca hadn’t spoken in nearly ten minutes and neither had I.

A knock came at the door, three short taps. One of our soldiers stepped inside first, “Boss.”

Vincenzo looked up.

I remained exactly where I was, watching him, measuring him, trying to reconcile the man sitting in front of me with the father

Gianna had described over the past ten months.

She had never sat me down and told me her entire childhood. Pieces had escaped over time, usually by accident.

Sometimes she’d stop reading halfway through a sentence and quietly say her father used to tell her she wasn’t trying hard enough.

Another time she’d mention her little brother, then go quiet because she hadn’t seen him in years.

Once, in the middle of the night, she’d admitted she spent years believing there was something wrong with her.

Broken.

That had been the word she used.

Broken.

I remembered asking who, but she never answered.

Another night she’d told me about standing outside a gate, hoping to see her mother. She’d laughed when she said it. The kind of laugh people used when the memory still hurt.