Chapter 2 The Spare Daughter
Fia
The first thing I remember is Nadia gently taking my phone from my hand. The second is the realization that everyone in the house has stopped looking at me, not stopped entirely, just stopped meeting my eyes. There’s a difference, and it feels terrible.
“What happened?” My voice barely carries, but nobody answers.
My stomach twists. Downstairs, voices overlap and echo through the open bedroom door. Men are moving too quickly. Someone is barking orders. The front door keeps opening and closing, over and over. Our house is never quiet, not really, but this isn’t normal noise. This is panic... panic wearing expensive shoes.
I push myself up from the bed. “Nadia.”
She stands by the window, clutching my phone tight against her chest. Her face is white as paper.
“What happened?” I ask again.
She hesitates. “Fia—”
“Where’s Mom?”
Her eyes fill with tears. Everything inside me stops.
“No.”
Nadia crosses the room. I back away, shaking my head. “No.”
She reaches for me, but I slap her hand away. “Where is my mother?”
The door opens and Carmine steps inside. Her dark hair is pulled back, her jacket half-buttoned, a gun visible at her hip. There’s blood on her sleeve. Not a lot. Enough.
I stare at that small smear, then at her face. Carmine never cries. I’ve watched her break a man’s nose without changing expression. But now, tears shine on her cheeks.
“No.” My voice is very small.
Carmine closes the door behind her. “There was an attack.”
My knees nearly give out. Nadia moves closer, but I ignore her.
“Where?”
“The restaurant.”
Ginevra. My heart slams against my ribs once, then again, faster.
“No.”
“Fia—”
“No!”
Carmine takes a step toward me. “They opened fire on the dining room.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Where’s Gin?”
Silence expands in the room.
I look from one face to the other.
Carmine’s jaw tightens. “Fia.”
“Tell me where my sister is.”
Her eyes break first. “She’s gone.”
The room tilts and blurs. I clutch the edge of my dresser, desperate for anything solid.
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No!” The word comes louder this time.
Nadia grabs me as my legs buckle, but I hit the floor anyway. “No. No, no, no.”
I can’t breathe. My chest locks up. Ginevra can’t be dead. She texted me this afternoon, threatened to make me wear yellow to her next dress fitting because I kept refusing to go. She was getting married. She had six weeks left to drive us all insane over flowers and table linens and whether the appetizers looked expensive enough.
Dead people don’t have dress fittings.
“Mom?” I whisper. Neither of them answers. I start to shake. “Where is my mother?”
Carmine crouches in front of me. Her face says everything before she speaks. “Cecilia didn’t make it either.”
Something tears out of me. Maybe it’s a scream. Maybe just silence. Nadia wraps both arms around me. I fight her for half a second, then collapse into her hold.
My mother. My sister. Both. Gone.
“How many?” The words barely make it out.
Carmine looks down.
“How many?”
“Seventeen.”
I stop crying. For one terrible second, I just stare at her. “Seventeen?”
“Everyone at the table.”
“Viola?” My mind catches on the only thing it can.
“No.”
“What?” The question is automatic.
“She wasn’t there.”
I can barely process it. Seventeen. Fifteen other women. Aunts, cousins, family friends. People who watched me grow up—gone in minutes.
“Who does that?” I ask, voice breaking. Neither of them answers. “Who does that!?”
I shove away from Nadia, scrambling to my feet. My hands won’t stop shaking. “Was it because of Gin?”
Carmine stands too. “We don’t know.”
“Because she was marrying him?”
“Fia—”
“It happened in Vescari territory.”
“I know.”
“Then where were they?” My words come out sharper than I mean.
Carmine flinches, and I instantly regret it. She’s been blaming herself since she walked through the door. I can see that.
“I’m sorry,” I say, softer.
She looks away. I grab my phone from Nadia.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling her,” I reply.
Nadia’s face crumples. “Fia…”
I already have Ginevra’s name open. I press call. Once. Twice. Then voicemail. Her voice fills the room:
"Hi, you’ve reached Ginevra. Leave me a message unless you’re Fia, because if you are, I know you’re only calling because you want something."
A sob wrenches out of me. I end the call, then play the voicemail she’d left earlier:
"You better be at the fitting Saturday. Mom says if you skip again, she’s coming to drag you there herself. Also, you left your stupid sweater in my car. Again. Love you."
I press the phone against my mouth. Mom was supposed to drag me to a dress fitting. Gin was supposed to complain about my sweater. That was supposed to be her week... not this.
The door slams open. I jerk around.
My father stands there. Cesare Bellandi looks twenty years older than he did yesterday. His tie is gone, his shirt collar open, his eyes red.
For half a second, relief crashes through me. Papa. I need my father. I cross the room toward him.
He doesn’t open his arms. I stop, cold seeping into my bones.
“Everyone out,” he says.
Nadia hesitates. “Mr. Bellandi, I really don’t think—”
“Out.”
Carmine’s expression hardens. “She shouldn’t be alone.”
“She won’t be.”
I want to tell them to stay, to keep me anchored, but I just nod. Nadia squeezes my hand before leaving. Carmine lingers, then finally steps out. The door shuts.
My father looks at me. I wait for him to break. To say her name. To say anything.
Instead, he says, “The Vescari agreement cannot collapse.”
I stare at him. “What?”
“The marriage.”
I actually laugh... a broken, disbelieving sound. “Ginevra is dead.”
“I know.”
“Mom is dead.”
His face tightens. “I know.”
“Then why are you talking about a wedding?”
“Because everything we have depends on it!”
I stop. He walks further into the room.
“Territory has already been reassigned. Investments moved. Agreements signed. I leveraged property based on the Vescari alliance.”
My stomach drops. “How much?”
“Enough.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“If the marriage fails, the Bellandi family loses more than an alliance.” He pauses. “We lose everything.”
I shake my head. “I don’t care.”
“You will.”
“No, I won’t.”
“You don’t understand.”
“My mother and sister were murdered three hours ago!”
“I am trying to keep this family alive.”
“There is no family!” The words crack between us.
He flinches. Good. Let it hurt.
He recovers too quickly. “The Vescaris were promised a Bellandi bride.”
My blood runs cold. I stare at him. No. He can’t.
“Papa.”
His expression doesn’t change. “There is still a Bellandi daughter.”
I take a step back. “No.”
“Fiorella.”
“No.”
“The wedding will proceed.”
“I’m not Ginevra.”
“I know.”
“Then find another solution.”
“There isn’t one.”
He looks me directly in the eyes and destroys whatever is left of my life. “You will marry Luciano Vescari.”
