As Celia flipped the page of the journal, her fingers shook. The smell of old paper blended with the musty air in the library, but she hardly noticed. The pages seemed to shine dimly, and each told more of Matteo's secrets. His penmanship was neat, accurate, and controlled, until it wasn't. Until it broke.

She looked over the business notes, which included the everyday life of a Don, names, meetings, and tactics. But as she looked more, she noticed it. A name. Adrian Costa. And then, nothing but angry strokes of ink, as if Matteo had tried to obliterate it from existence.

Her stomach turned. There was Adrian's name, which she had carried around like a weight for years. Matteo had met him. He was known. And the way he had been wiped violently made her palms quiver. She turned the page, but the last line made her stop breathing.

"I didn't ask for him to die." But I didn't stop it.

The words cut her like a knife. She had always known there was more to the story, but hearing it from Matteo and seeing it in his handwriting was a new experience. Her heart raced in her chest, and the blood rushed to her ears as she struggled to calm her hands.

He didn't stop it. Matteo did not save Adrian. He had watched her world fall apart from the sidelines. She didn't expect the realisation to hit her so hard. The weight of her goal, the revenge, and the vendetta all changed and became too hard.

She kept her fingers on the page, as if touching it would help her understand everything. But she couldn't. She didn't know how to handle this new fact. Not yet.

A sound made her lose focus.

A quiet squeak came from the hall. Celia's eyes darted to the door. She couldn't stay here. Not right now. Not with this information. She put the journal in her suitcase and hurried to the door, her heart beating.

Matteo's empire was based on lies; now she was stuck in it. But it was evident that her revenge had changed.

Her mind raced as Celia walked down the long hallway to the digital archive room. The shadows of the mansion seemed to be watching her every move. She thought the mansion was watching and listening to her. She wanted to go back to the journal and find out the rest of the truth. But this was required. She needed more than just paper and ink.

The door to the archive room was simple: it was hefty, locked, and hidden. But Celia had looked at the house long enough to know that no lock could keep her out. The terminal inside had what she needed, which Matteo had hidden. The Rinaldi family's most private information is protected by encryption and firewalls.

She typed on the keyboard with her fingers, but her thoughts were moving quicker than her hands. Every time she pressed a key, she got closer to something she wasn't ready to find, but she had to. She needed to know everything about Adrian's death and Matteo's part.

She could feel the moisture on her hands, and the air was heavy with the weight of what she was about to find out. The first few layers of security came off too rapidly. It was almost too simple. Matteo's system was hard to understand, but not impossible. She had seen these systems before.

As the last encryption showed up on the screen, her eyes furrowed. She pressed the previous key, and the system made a noise. One file opened. The name on the screen made her heart skip a beat.

"Execution Order for Adrian Costa and Rinaldi."

The words burned into her mind. It was real. It was Matteo who ordered it. It was her uncle who told her to do it. But this order, this file, was the most important thing. The truth was buried in plain sight here.

As Celia looked at the paperwork, her breath came in short bursts. It was too much too quickly, but she knew she couldn't stop now. This was the end. And it wasn't just about Matteo anymore. She thought she knew the history, but it was about altering it.

Her palm hovered over the file as her imagination raced with everything that might happen. What would she do with all this power? She had the choice.

At first, Celia didn't hear the footsteps. She was too focused on the file on the screen, and her mind was racing with the possibilities—the Rinaldi Execution Order. There was not a single accurate word on that page. Every name was a piece in a game she had never meant to play.

She rapidly moved the file, and her fingers clenched on the drive. She couldn't take the chance of it being found out. Not right now. Not when she was so close to knowing the truth.

She jumped at the gentle sound of footsteps. She stopped moving, and her muscles became tense—Leo's steps.

She immediately put the disk in her pocket and headed toward the door, her breath shallow.

"Celia?" Leo's voice was soft and careful, like a whisper in the dark.

Her heart skipped a beat. She couldn't get caught with this. Not with him. Not with the facts.

She swiftly changed her stance to disguise the stress in her shoulders.

"I," Celia began, but her words stuck in her throat.

The faint light made Leo's little body stand out in the doorway. His eyes were big, and he seemed curious but unsure. And then, what he said next made her freeze up.

"Please don't kill Papa."

Her heart sank. His comments hung in the air like a heavy weight that made breathing hard.

Celia's thoughts were racing. This was not what she had planned. She didn't think he would get it.

But he did. He got it.

Without thinking, her hand went to the knife under her coat. And for the first time, Celia didn't know which way she would go.

Celia's breath hitched when she crouched next to Matteo. The cool stone floor under her feet suddenly felt too hard and unyielding. His weight was heavy on her legs, and his skin was pallid and sweaty. He was becoming worse because of the fever, but there was something else in his eyes that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Why would you say that?" she muttered, her voice heavy with incredulity.

His lips curved into a weak, painful smile. "I heard you pray for it."

Her gut wrenched, and her heart raced. What was he saying? She hadn't asked God for anything. Not for this. Not for him.

Her eyes were riveted on his, looking for something. "You are wrong," she said, but she didn't mean it. She felt deep down that he was right.

The silence between them grew increasingly uncomfortable until Matteo's voice broke through. It was low and gruff, but it was clear. He looked at the door and had to work hard to open his mouth.

"So, you found it."

Celia's heart skipped a beat. He knew the truth, the awful reality. She didn't mean to locate it. Not in this way. But it was too late now. The words were out, and they hung like a tighter noose around them.

She crouched next to the chair and wrapped her fingers over the edge, which made the tension rise. "What did you mean?" she asked, her voice shaking.

But Matteo didn't answer. He shut his eyes, and the room appeared to get even quieter.

For a second, Celia didn't know what to do. Her hands shook, and her mind was all over the place. He was lying in front of her, barely alive, but the weight of his words made her feel like she was carrying lead.

She bowed and tried to calm her mind, but the pieces of the truth she wasn't ready to accept kept slipping away. And just like that, the door behind her creaked.

Celia's heart skipped a beat when she heard the door creak open. She didn't have to look to know who it was. Matteo had fallen asleep in her arms, but suddenly someone else was in the room, who had witnessed practically everything.

She slowly moved her head, and as Matteo's voice reached her ears again, it was a rough whisper. "Don't lie about why you're going to do it."

Looking back at Matteo, her chest tightened at what he said. "What are you talking about?" she said, her voice shaking with confusion.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked at her with fever-clouded eyes that were still sharp and still knew what was happening. "You came here to kill me," he said, his lips curving in a way that made it sound like he was giving up. "But that's your problem if you don't want to admit it."

Celia's mouth got dry. Her fingers turned into fists, and her nails dug into her hands. She had come here to get back at Adrian for the blood on her hands. But now that Matteo was lying in front of her, hurt and weak, she wasn't so sure anymore. Her mind was full of lies, truths, and things that may still be possible.

There was a lot of tension between them, and it was hard to breathe. She could feel it in the room and the air. The way the chandelier's light flickered in sync with her heartbeat made her think it.

And then, as soon as the hush had subsided, the door slammed shut behind her. Matteo was gone, lost in the dark corners of his mansion.

But not before he threw the knife on the floor between them, making a loud noise that echoed in her ears.