Page 79 of His Enemy's Daughter
“I’ve been setting aside your percentage for fifteen years.” Simeone’s voice roughens with emotion he’s too proud to show. “Every job, every deal, every profit—I put aside what would have been yours if you’d been free to claim it. It’s grown considerably.”
I take the card with hands that aren’t quite steady, feeling the weight of loyalty that spans decades. “How much?”
“Enough that you’ll never have to work again if you don’t want to.” Simeone’s smile is sad, proud. “Enough to build whatever life you choose in Sicily without worrying about money or resources or starting from nothing.”
“Simeone...” I don’t have words for what this means, for the magnitude of a gesture that speaks of brotherhood deeper than blood.
“Don’t.” He holds up a hand, stopping gratitude before it can form. “You gave me fifteen years. This is just money and property. It doesn’t come close to balancing the scales.”
“There are no scales between us.” The words come out rough, laden with a lifetime of friendship that has survived prison, distance, and time. “We’re brothers. We don’t keep score.”
“No.” His smile widens slightly. “We just give each other houses in Sicily and pretend it’s no big deal.”
Loriana laughs from her position near the kitchen doorway, breaking the tension that was becoming too heavy. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re both making the right choice. Sometimes the bravest thing is walking away from power to build something authentic.”
Regina glances at Loriana with something that might be cautious respect. “You walked away from something?”
“From trying to be someone I wasn’t.” Loriana moves to stand beside Simeone, their connection visible even from across theroom. “Found something real instead. It’s terrifying and worth it in equal measure.”
We sit in companionable silence for a moment, the weight of decisions made and futures being chosen settling around us. Then Simeone’s expression shifts into something more serious.
“There’s one thing you should know.” His voice carries warning. “About Sicily.”
“What about it?”
“Flavio.” The name lands between us like a curse. “Last intelligence I received placed him in Palermo. He’s been spotted working with some of the smaller families there, trying to rebuild influence using skills I taught him.”
The information settles like lead in my stomach. “You think he’s a threat?”
“I think he’s desperate, bitter, and dangerous.” Simeone’s assessment is clinical. “He blames me for his exile, blames Loriana for existing, and would probably blame you for being the brother and family he could have been. If he finds out you’re in Sicily...”
“He’ll see it as an opportunity.” I finish the thought, tactical mind already calculating risks. “To hurt you by hurting me. To prove he’s still relevant by taking down the man who replaced him in your affections.”
“Exactly.” Simeone leans back, frustration evident. “I can’t do anything about him directly—exile was Loriana’s mercy, and I won’t violate that. But I can warn you to watch your back if you encounter him.”
“Noted.” I file the information away for later consideration. “Though hopefully Sicily’s big enough that our paths won’t cross.”
“Hopefully.” But Simeone’s expression suggests he doesn’t believe in hope as a strategy. “Just... keep your eyes open. Flavio’s learned enough to be dangerous even if he’s not smart enough to be strategic.”
“We’ll be careful.” Regina’s voice carries quiet certainty. “After everything we’ve survived, I’m fairly certain that one exile isn’t going to be a problem, no matter how bitter.”
“Don’t underestimate him,” Loriana warns, her tone serious. “Flavio’s entitled and reckless, but he’s also vindictive. If he realizes Mauricio matters to Simeone, he’ll see it as a way to strike back at us.”
“Point taken.” I nod. I appreciate the warning, even if I don’t think Flavio poses a real threat. “We’ll stay alert.”
We spend another hour talking—about logistics, Sicily, and practical matters, such as the caretaker who maintains Simeone’s property and local contacts who can help us settle in. Simeone provides names of people who owe him favors,businesses that will extend credit without question, and resources that smooth the path to starting over.
Regina remains polite but reserved throughout, contributing when asked but not pushing for connection. It’s clear she understands this goodbye is between brothers, that her role is supportive rather than central.
Finally, as afternoon bleeds into evening, we stand to leave. Simeone walks us to the door, and I see emotion flickering across features that usually remain controlled.
“Mauricio.” He catches my arm, holding me back while Regina and Loriana exchange brief, cordial farewells. “I need you to know something.”
“What?”
“I’ll never forget what you did for me.” His voice drops to something raw, honest. “Fifteen years of your life so I could build this. So, I could have Loriana and Alessandro and everything I never thought I deserved. That debt doesn’t expire just because you’re leaving.”
“There’s no debt.” I grip his shoulder, letting him see the truth in my eyes. “You’re my brother. Brothers don’t keep ledgers.”
