Page 66 of His Enemy's Daughter
After we disconnect, Regina collapses onto the couch with exhaustion and stress written across her features. “My father used to rant about Borghese. Called her the incorruptible bitch who refused to understand how the world actually works.”
“Sounds like an endorsement.” I settle beside her, careful of my wounded shoulder. “What do you think? Your father’s paranoid rants about her suggest she’s legitimate.”
“They suggest she’s been a thorn in his side for years.” Regina leans against me. “Father doesn’t rant about people unless they genuinely threaten him. If Borghese has been investigating him for eight years, she’s either extraordinarily competent or extraordinarily lucky to still be alive.”
“Probably both.” I pull out my phone, already thinking through neutral meeting locations. “We’ll need insurance. People watching our backs in case this is a setup.”
“Who do you trust that much?”
It’s a good question with complicated answers. After years in prison, my circle of trust is vanishingly small. But there is one person who might be relevant to this situation.
“There’s a man—David Kalinin. He was my cellmate in prison. We were tight, and he said if I ever need anything, to contact his brother-in-law, Dr. Oderico Muni. Does that name mean anything to you?”
Regina’s face transforms, shock bleeding into something that looks like hope. “He’s my therapist. Has been for three years.”
“You trust him?”
“With my life.” No hesitation. “Dr. Muni’s the only person who’s known the full truth about what Father is and never once made me feel like I deserved it. He’s been preparing documentation for years, waiting for me to be ready to use it.”
This changes the dynamics significantly. If we have a therapist willing to testify about systematic abuse, combined with Borghese’s legal case and our stolen evidence, we’re not just attacking Sabino—we’re building a multi-pronged assault he can’t defend against.
“Call him,” I decide. “Set up a meeting for tomorrow, same time as Borghese. Let’s see if we can coordinate all our allies into one coordinated strike.”
Regina’s already dialing, hand shaking slightly with what might be fear or anticipation. When a man’s voice answers—warm, professional, concerned—I see her entire posture shift.
“Dr. Muni? It’s Regina. I need your help. Actually, I need you to help me destroy my father.”
The conversation that follows is brief but intense. I hear confirmation, reassurance, immediate agreement to meet tomorrow. When Regina disconnects, tears shimmer in her eyes.
“He said he’s been waiting three years for me to make this call.” Her voice cracks.
“You have people in your corner,” I tell her, pulling her close. “More than you realized. Borghese, Dr. Muni, Simeone’s connections, my prison contact—”
“Wait.” Regina pulls back. “Who exactly is David Kalinin?”
“He’s a Russian mob boss. He owes me his life—literal life, I took a knife meant for him in a prison riot. When I got out, he made it clear his entire organization was available if I ever needed resources.”
“You have Russian mob connections.” She says it like testing the weight. “On top of a detective, a therapist, and Simeone’s empire.”
“We have all those things,” I correct. “This isn’t just my operation anymore, Regina. It’s ours. All these pieces moving together to ensure Sabino doesn’t just die—he’s completely, thoroughly, permanently destroyed.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. I can practically see the wheels in her head turning as she processes the full scope of what we’re building. Finally, she speaks, voice carrying determination that makes my chest tight.
“Tomorrow we meet with everyone. Borghese, Dr. Muni, coordinate with everyone’s contacts. We build a plan. A good one. By the time we’re done, there won’t be anything left of his empire but ashes and prison bars.”
“That’s the plan.” I kiss her forehead, breathing in her scent—bergamot and vanilla and fierce courage. “You ready for this? Once we put this in motion, there’s no backing out.”
“I’ve been ready since I found those photographs of my real parents’ bodies.” Steel enters her voice. “Since I realized the man I called Father murdered the people who actually loved me. I’m not just ready, Mauricio—I’m eager. Let’s make Sabino Picarelli regret every choice that led to this moment.”
20
Regina
“If you’re wearing a wire, Detective, I’m going to be very disappointed.”
The words leave my mouth before Mauricio can stop me, and I watch Detective Elisabetta Borghese’s eyebrows climb toward her hairline. She’s exactly what I expected from Father’s rants—sharp-eyed, unflinching, wearing a cheap blazer that somehow makes her look more dangerous than any designer suit ever could.
“No wire.” She spreads her arms, turning slowly in the empty parking garage we chose for this meeting. “Though I appreciate the directness. Your father always said you were smarter than you pretended to be.”
