The Plan
Tony's POV
The glass shattered against the wall, spraying wine everywhere.
"You did what?" my father's voice boomed through his office.
I stood frozen in the doorway, watching red liquid drip down the expensive painting behind his desk. Don Marco Moretti didn't throw things often. When he did, people usually ended up dead.
"I said I lost her," I repeated, trying to keep my voice steady. "Someone else got to Isabella first."
That wasn't exactly true. But I couldn't tell my father what really happened. That Isabella had been free the whole time. That she'd been holding the knife, not running from it. That she'd looked me straight in the eye and asked for help before disappearing into the night.
My uncle Roberto stepped out from behind the curtains. I hadn't even seen him hiding there.
"Interesting," Roberto said, his cold eyes studying my face. "Very interesting."
"What's interesting?" I asked.
"That you came back empty-handed," Roberto replied. "When the plan was so simple."
My father picked up another wine glass and threw it at the wall. This time, I didn't flinch.
"Twenty years I've been planning this!" Marco shouted. "Twenty years of waiting for the perfect moment to destroy Vincent Russo. And you tell me someone else got there first?"
"Papa, I tried—"
"You tried?" Marco's face turned red. "Your mother is dead because of that family. Dead! And when I finally give you the chance to make them pay, you come back with excuses!"
The mention of my mother hit me like a punch to the stomach. It always did. But something felt different this time. Instead of the usual anger, I felt... confused.
"Tell me exactly what happened," Roberto said, moving closer. "Every detail."
I took a deep breath and lied. "We were watching the house. Everything was going according to plan. Then we saw movement in Isabella's room. Someone in black clothes with a weapon."
"Who?" Marco demanded.
"I don't know," I said. "By the time we got inside, both Isabella and the attacker were gone."
Roberto smiled, but it wasn't a nice smile. "How convenient."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, nephew," Roberto said. "Nothing at all."
My father walked to his desk and pulled out a large folder. Inside were papers, photographs, and what looked like building plans.
"Sit down," Marco ordered.
I sat in the leather chair across from his desk. Roberto moved to stand behind me. I could feel his presence like a shadow.
"Look at these," my father said, spreading papers across the desk.
The first paper showed a detailed map of the Russo mansion. Every room was labeled. Every door and window was marked. Even the secret passages were drawn in red ink.
"How did you get this?" I asked.
"We have friends everywhere," Roberto said from behind me. "Even in the Russo family."
The next paper showed guard schedules. When they walked their rounds. When they changed shifts. When they took breaks to smoke cigarettes.
"Isabella's room is here," Marco said, pointing to a spot on the third floor. "Two guards in the hallway. One more by the back stairs. But there's a weak spot."
He pointed to a window on the side of the house.
"The old servants' entrance. It connects to a hallway that leads straight to her room. No guards. No cameras. No problems."
"But I already tried—"
"You failed because you weren't prepared," Roberto interrupted. "This time will be different."
My father opened another folder. This one was full of photographs. Pictures of Isabella walking to her car. Shopping with friends. Eating dinner at restaurants.
"She goes to the same coffee shop every Tuesday," Marco explained. "Takes the same route home. Parks in the same spot. Very predictable."
I stared at the photos. Isabella looked so normal in them. So... innocent. Not like the dangerous woman I'd seen holding a knife in her bedroom.
"Why are you showing me this now?" I asked. "If someone else already took her—"
"Because," Roberto said, walking around to face me, "we don't think anyone took her."
My blood turned cold. "What do you mean?"
"We think she ran away," Marco said. "We think she found out about the wedding and decided to disappear before it happened."
"But the person in her room—"
"Could have been helping her escape," Roberto finished. "Could have been her idea all along."
That actually made sense. But it also meant Isabella was smarter than any of us had realized.
"So what's the new plan?" I asked.
Marco smiled for the first time since I'd walked in. "We find her. And when we do, we make sure she understands exactly what happens to people who run from the Moretti family."
Roberto reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. It was small and black, the kind that was easy to hide but deadly up close.
"Take this," Roberto said, holding it out to me.
I stared at the weapon. "Why?"
"Because this time, you're not just kidnapping Vincent Russo's daughter," Marco explained. "You're proving you have what it takes to lead this family."
"And if she fights?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Roberto's smile turned ugly. "Then you make her understand who's in control."
I took the gun with shaking hands. It felt heavier than it should have. Cold and wrong.
"Don't disappoint me again, son," Marco said. "This family has been at war for ten years because of what the Russos did to your mother. It's time to end it."
I nodded and stood up. "I won't let you down."
"Good," Roberto said. "Because failure isn't an option anymore."
I walked toward the door, the gun burning like fire in my pocket. My mind was spinning with questions I couldn't ask and doubts I couldn't share.
As I reached for the door handle, I heard Roberto's phone ring behind me.
"I have to take this," Roberto said to my father.
I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. But instead of leaving, I stopped just outside and listened.
"It's done," Roberto said into his phone. "The boy will do exactly what we need him to do."
"Are you sure?" asked a voice I couldn't identify.
"Positive," Roberto replied. "He's too angry about his mother to think straight. Too desperate to prove himself to ask the right questions."
"And when it's over?"
Roberto laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that made my skin crawl.
"When it's over, Vincent Russo will be so destroyed by his daughter's death that he'll surrender everything. And Tony will be so broken by what he's done that he'll never challenge my authority again."
My hand gripped the door frame so hard I thought it might break.
"Two birds, one stone," Roberto continued. "I get rid of my biggest enemy and my biggest threat at the same time."
The phone clicked off.
I stood in the hallway, my whole world crashing down around me.
Roberto wasn't just using me to get revenge on the Russos.
He was planning to make me kill Isabella Russo.
And then he was going to destroy me too.