She froze.
“He wanted you gone,” Luca said. “I convinced him patience was profitable.”
Maya shook her head slowly. “You’ve been watching me.”
“Protecting you.”
“Do rich men hear themselves when they speak?”
For a moment, Elena almost smiled. Then the grief returned.
Luca poured water from a crystal bottle and handed it to Maya. She did not take it.
“You insulted me in my own restaurant,” he said. “You stood in front of me with holes in your shoes and told me money did not make me a god. Do you know what I thought?”
“That you should ruin my life?”
“That Elena would have liked you.”
Maya looked away.
The words landed where she did not want them to.
Enzo entered, phone in hand. “Police have arrived at Giardino. Two shooters dead. One escaped. Cameras were cut three minutes before the blackout.”
“Inside help,” Luca said.
Enzo nodded. “And there is something else.”
He hesitated.
Luca’s eyes sharpened. “Say it.”
“Matteo is missing.”
Elena turned from the window. “Your brother?”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
Maya noticed the change instantly. Until then, Luca had moved with absolute control. But at that name, something human and wounded flickered in him.
“Find him,” Luca said.
“I have people looking.”
“No. You have people pretending. Find him yourself.”
Enzo nodded and left.
Maya crossed her arms. “I’m guessing Matteo is bad news.”
“He is family,” Luca said.
“That didn’t answer me.”
“It did.”
Elena stepped closer. “Matteo always hated that Luca protected us.”
“Because of you?” Maya asked.
“Because protecting us cost Luca everything.”
Luca gave Elena a warning look.
Maya caught it. “No. We’re not doing that again. What did it cost him?”
Elena’s voice lowered. “His wife.”
The penthouse fell silent.
Luca turned away.
Maya looked at him, the slap mark still faint on his cheek, and suddenly saw the photograph differently. Her mother beside him, both younger, both terrified beneath their smiles.
“Vittorio thought Luca had helped me escape,” Elena said. “So he punished him. Luca’s wife was pregnant.”
Maya’s anger faltered.
Not vanished. Not forgiven. But interrupted.
Luca stood by the fireplace, his face unreadable.
“What was her name?” Maya asked softly.
He did not answer at first.
“Isabella,” he said at last.
The name felt like a door closing.