Page 78 of His Enemy's Daughter
“That’s the official story.” I sink into leather that’s too comfortable, watching my best friend’s face for reactions. “Reality’s a bit more complicated.”
“Reality usually is.” Simeone’s gaze flicks between us, calculating. “But the outcome is what matters. Sabino’s dead, his empire’s destroyed, and you’re both alive. I’d call that a successful operation.”
“Successful.” Regina’s voice carries something sharp beneath the professional tone. “Yes, that’s one way to describe it.”
Simeone’s expression shifts slightly—recognition of pain beneath composure. “I didn’t mean to diminish what it cost you, Miss Picarelli. Killing family, even family that doesn’t deserve the title, leaves marks that don’t fade easily.”
“Regina is fine.” The correction is gentle. “And I appreciate the acknowledgment. Not everyone understands that justified doesn’t mean easy.”
Loriana returns with coffee and wine, setting them on the table with practiced ease. She hands Regina a cup prepared black—somehow intuiting the preference—and passes me a generous pour of red.
“To surviving,” Loriana says, raising her own glass. “Whatever that looks like.”
We drink to that—a toast that feels less celebratory and more like acknowledgment of shared experience. The wine is excellent, smooth and complex, probably from Simeone’s private collection.
“So.” Simeone sets his glass down with decisive finality. “Let’s talk about what comes next.”
Here it is. The conversation I’ve been dreading and anticipating in equal measure.
“I’m offering you full partnership in the Codella organization,” Simeone continues, leaning forward with intensity that demands attention. “Not as my lieutenant or enforcer or the man who owes me. As my equal. Fifty-fifty split on everything—territories, operations, legitimate businesses, all of it.”
The offer settles between us like a grenade with the pin pulled. Everything I thought I wanted when I was rotting in prison,counting days and planning revenge. Power, position, purpose within an organization that’s become family.
“It’s a generous offer,” I say carefully, feeling Regina’s attention sharpen beside me.
“It’s what you’re owed.” Simeone’s voice carries conviction. “Fifteen years you gave me, Mauricio. Fifteen years in a cage while I built this empire on the foundation of your sacrifice. You deserve to reap the benefits.”
“I appreciate it.” And I do, genuinely. But appreciation doesn’t change what I’ve realized over the past month. “But I’m going to have to decline.”
The silence that follows is heavy with surprise and something that might be hurt. Simeone’s expression shifts through several emotions before settling on careful neutrality.
“You’re turning down a full partnership in one of the most powerful organizations on the East Coast?” His voice carries disbelief. “Why?”
“Because it’s yours, not mine.” I meet his gaze directly, needing him to understand. “You built this, Simeone. You spent twenty years turning the Codella name into something that commands respect and fear. I didn’t earn that. I just... survived long enough to witness it.”
“You earned it by keeping your mouth shut when lesser men would have talked.” Simeone’s frustration bleeds throughprofessional composure. “You earned it by protecting me, by sacrificing your freedom so I could build something worth protecting. That counts for more than you think.”
“Maybe.” I glance at Regina, drawing strength from her steady presence. “But I don’t want to inherit or take over something built on someone else’s foundation. I want to build something new. Something that’s mine—ours—from the ground up.”
Understanding dawns across Simeone’s features, followed by resignation that looks like acceptance. “You’re leaving.”
“We’re leaving.” Regina’s voice is calm, certain. “For Sicily. At least for a while. We need distance from everything that’s happened, space to figure out what comes next.”
“Sicily.” Simeone’s expression shifts into something I can’t quite read. He stands abruptly, moving to a desk in the corner and pulling out paperwork that looks suspiciously prepared. “That’s... actually perfect.”
He returns with documents, spreading them across the coffee table. “I have a house there. Cefalù, on the northern coast. My family’s ancestral home before we immigrated. It’s been sitting empty for years except for a caretaker who maintains it.”
I stare at the papers—property deeds, transfer documents, all official and binding. “Simeone, that’s—”
“The least I can do.” His interruption is firm. “You won’t take partnership in my empire? Fine. But you’ll take this. A placeto start fresh, to build whatever comes next. No strings, no obligations, just... a gift from a brother who owes you more than he can ever repay.”
“That’s incredibly generous,” Regina says quietly, speaking for the first time since the offer was made. “But we can’t accept something so valuable—”
“Yes, you can. And you will.” Simeone’s attention shifts to her, his expression softening slightly. “I don’t know you well, Regina. But Mauricio chose you, which means you’re worth knowing. And if he’s building a new life, he deserves to start with more than just determination and a dream.”
He pulls out something else—a black credit card that catches light like promise. “This too. Account in a name that can’t be traced, loaded with your share of every operation we’ve run since the day you went to prison.”
“My share?”
