Chapter 125: I Might Have Married into a Family of Walking Red Flags

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Lorenzo grabbed the glass of water on the nightstand and handed it to me. I drank slowly, then returned it. He set the glass down.

"Volpe has been a name that’s been coming up for a while in my investigations on who attacked the convoy. And it seems as though this person has the trump card of knowing just when to strike, meaning they have knowledge of everything happening in our estate."

"So someone’s on the inside."

"That’s what I thought."

"And you didn’t know who it is?"

"Not initially. We traced the info through various intermediaries, but every lead vanished. Whoever’s behind it knows how to cover their tracks, and has access to information that should only be known to a select few."

I frowned. "So why did he suddenly decide to come after you directly?"

"Because the attacks changed." Lorenzo leaned back a bit, his gaze turning distant as he sorted through his thoughts. "Initially, the operations seemed aimed at weakening my organization after the person tried to kill you. Financial losses, messed-up shipments, attacks on people connected to my business. Then it shifted toward me personally. Someone wanted to know where I’d be, who’d be with me, and what security I’d have in place. The men who took you were told to keep you alive. That’s a big shift from earlier attempts to use you as leverage or get rid of you as an obstacle. Whoever gave those orders wanted you alive for a reason, and I doubt it was just to make me suffer since they wanted to kill me as well."

I stared at him. "Wonderful. I’ve always wanted to be the focus of a criminal’s plans."

Lorenzo’s expression remained steady as his hand found mine again.

"I don’t know what he plans to do with you," he said. "And until I find out, you will not be left alone ever again."

His tone wasn’t up for debate. I could hear the resolve in his voice, the certainty of a man who was already adjusting his world to the worry that someone might try to take me again.

Welp...there goes the little freedom I had left.

Part of me wanted to argue that I wasn’t fragile, but the memory of waking up in that storage room silenced my protest. I had fought my way out once, but I wasn’t naive enough to think that the people behind the attack would just give up after their first attempt. They had blown up a building.

They weren’t known for taking disappointment lightly.

"So what do we know about him?" I asked.

Lorenzo’s gaze fell to our hands.

"Not much that I can prove. But there are details that don’t make sense unless Volpe knows more about my family than a typical enemy would."

I waited, and he continued slowly, as if he had to weigh each word before saying it.

"Some of the information used in these operations came from sources that shouldn’t have been accessible to anyone outside the family. There were mentions of old arrangements, connections, and matters that were never documented in the usual business files. Whoever Volpe is, he knows things about the Castellis that even some of my senior men don’t know."

I thought about the name again. Volpe. Fox. It sounded oddly comical when translated, which felt particularly frustrating given that the man behind it seemed intent on turning my life into a horror story big enough to level buildings. "Could it be someone who worked for your father?"

"Possibly."

"Someone who knew your family before you became Don?"

"Possibly."

"Someone who personally hates you?"

"That’s becoming more likely by the minute."

I glanced at him. "You know, for a guy running a criminal empire, you’re being remarkably unhelpful."

"I’m giving you the information I have."

"You’re giving me enough to worry, but not enough to be useful."

"Would you prefer I tell you something I can’t confirm?"

I opened my mouth to retort but shut it again. Unfortunately, he had a point, and I was annoyed at him for making it. I rubbed my forehead carefully, avoiding the sore spot around my temple.

"Okay, what’s the theory you’re not sharing?"

Lorenzo watched me for a long moment before saying, "I think Volpe might be my brother."

The room felt suddenly silent. I stared at him, waiting for him to add something that would make that statement less absurd, but Lorenzo just held my gaze, his expression serious and his hand still squeezing mine. "Your brother?"

"Yes."

I tried to recall everything I knew about Lorenzo’s family, piecing together the bits he’d shared over our marriage. His father, Frederick. The Castelli organization. A family history filled with more secrets than a whole library on criminal activity. Then another name surfaced in my mind.

"Matteo?"

Lorenzo shook his head.

"No, tesoro." His voice softened, but there was a guarded look in his eyes. "My older brother. Dante."

I froze. Dante. For a moment, I couldn’t fit that name into what I knew. I remembered sweet little Emil’s father, although he had a horrible personality from the one time we interacted... he hadn’t seemed like someone who would orchestrate a kidnapping, let alone an attack that could kill hundreds of people.

He had looked like a father, a man who loved his son even as he was neglectful at times, someone who, at least from my perspective. Remembering that image made my stomach churn, as the contrast between that memory and how Lorenzo was describing him was jarring.

"But I thought—"

I stopped, struggling to find the right words. I thought he was family, why would family try to kill family?

I thought he was nothing like those who had tried to take me. Yet, according to Lorenzo, the man who had once seemed so quiet and almost gentle might just be the same person who had ordered men to drag me away and planted a bomb in a crowded building. I looked down at the bandages on my hands.

"Why?" I whispered.

Lorenzo didn’t respond right away. I looked back up at him, seeking something in his face that might help me understand, but all I found was that same controlled look, that cold intensity that had taken over him after the explosion. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ

For the first time that night, I realized that the bombing wasn’t just an attack on his organization, nor a direct threat to our marriage.

It was something much more personal. Someone within Lorenzo’s own family might be looking to destroy him, and that same person had apparently decided I should be taken alive. I swallowed hard, my throat feeling dry again.

"But why would Dante want me?"

Lorenzo’s grip on my hand tightened. "That’s why I plan to find out next."