Page 316 of Legacy
“She’s talking about Mom’s journal,” Elena snaps, her eyes flashing. “The one I took from Santo’s library when I was visiting Vasilisa. I leftit in Angelo’s office when I was staying here, and now this nosy bitch is trying to unravel our family.”
“Elena!”
Angelo’s chair slams back as he surges to his feet, towering, the Don in him fully present.
Santo rises too, face stone. “Youstolefrom my home?”
“That’swhat you’re angry about?” Elena huffs, arms trembling. “I had no time with her. You both had her for years. I had eight.Eight!”
Tears well in her eyes, fury and grief tangled so tightly they’re indistinguishable.
My stomach twists with guilt like a knife under my ribs.
“She died after my birthday. You think this is ahappyday for me?” Her voice cracks. “I was there when she was taken. You all forget that, but Ineverhave. All I have are the bad memories. Nothing but nightmares. So yeah, I stole a piece of her. I wanted toknowher. To see her outside the lies.”
“What lies?” Angelo’s voice is sharp, cutting. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Elena falters.
“I-I can’t—”
My voice cuts through the room. I can’t let her drown alone.
“Your mother was trafficked.”
Silence.
“The townhouse… she squatted there. She was homeless. A teenager. Until she was taken off the street one night and sold.” My voice is shaking, but I don’t stop. “Your father purchased her. At a party.”
I say it all in one breath, hoping the sting of the truth will be cleaner than the slow unraveling.
“No.”
Angelo, Santo, Luca, and Nico say it in unison—sharp, broken, disbelieving.
Heads shaking. Eyes widening.
“He wouldn’t,” Angelo whispers. But it’s not denial—it’s begging.
Santo pales. His knees bend before his pride cracks, and he sinks into his chair like the air’s been stolen from his lungs. Vasilisa’s hand finds his. She anchors him with quiet strength.
I reach for Angelo’s hand, but he doesn’t take it. Doesn’t even look at me.
His eyes are on the table. On nothing.
“I want the book,” Santo says suddenly, sharp and low.
“No!” Elena snaps. “It’s mine.”
“No, it’s not,” he growls. “You stole it.”
Elena’s face crumples. “I hate you. Both of you.”
Then her eyes find mine.
And she spits fire.
“You’re the worst thing to happen to this family.”
