Chapter 2 - THE PLUS-SIZE WOMAN EVERYONE CALLED USELESS DISCOVERED HER DEAD MOTHER WAS STILL ALIVE—THEN SHE REALIZED THE $10 MILLION POKER GAME HAD BEEN DESIGNED TO PUT HER INSIDE THE MAFIA BOSS’S HOME
The alarm was not for an intruder.
It was for the vault.
Someone inside the Bellini penthouse had opened it.
Tomaso pulled Giana behind him.
She immediately stepped sideways.
“Stop doing that.”
“What?”
“Moving me like furniture.”
“Someone breached my vault.”
“I noticed.”
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Giana.”
“You just discovered somebody engineered my arrival. I’m probably the person most likely to understand why.”
Tomaso stared.
Then nodded.
“Behind me.”
“That’s acceptable.”
They moved.
Two guards met them.
Vault corridor.
No forced entry.
Biometric access.
Tomaso’s fingerprint or Anthony Bellini’s.
Inside, nothing obvious was missing.
Giana examined the room.
Cash.
Jewelry.
Documents.
Weapons.
Then she saw an empty space on a shelf.
“What was there?”
Tomaso followed her gaze.
“A drive.”
“What drive?”
“My father’s private financial archive.”
Giana looked at him.
“Anthony knew?”
“Yes.”
“Encryption?”
“Yes.”
“Designed by?”
Tomaso went silent.
Giana understood.
“My mother.”
Isabella Richie had worked for the Bellinis.
Tomaso finally told her.
Before marrying Marco, Isabella had consulted for Tomaso’s father.
She created encryption architecture protecting financial records.
Years later she discovered someone using that system to hide trafficking profits.
She intended to expose it.
Then she supposedly died.
Giana stared.
“You knew my mother?”
“I was twenty.”
“Did you know she was alive?”
“No.”
“Did your father?”
“I don’t know.”
Giana walked away.
Too many men had possessed pieces of her family history while she lived inside deliberate ignorance.
She turned.
“No more secrets.”
Tomaso nodded.
“Agreed.”
“If you know something involving me, you tell me.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t decide what protects me.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t call me your prize.”
He almost smiled.
“That one may be difficult.”
“Tomaso.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
The stolen drive mattered because it contained decades of Bellini financial history.
Legitimate and criminal.
In the wrong hands, it could destroy Tomaso.
In Regina’s hands, it could allow her to seize routes, blackmail officials and eliminate competitors.
But Giana believed there was another reason.
Her mother had built the encryption.
Perhaps Isabella had hidden something inside.
They needed to find her.
The medical facility in Wisconsin existed under a legitimate neurological care network.
Giana refused to send Bellini soldiers.
They contacted an attorney.
Then federal authorities.
Tomaso disliked that.
Giana did not care.
“You want to start a war.”
“Yes.”
“My mother may be inside.”
“Yes.”
“So if you start shooting, she becomes a target.”
Tomaso clenched his jaw.
“What do you suggest?”
“We use laws.”
He looked physically offended.
Giana smiled.
“Try something new.”
An emergency guardianship review uncovered Isabella Richie.
Alive.
Fifty-six.
Held for twelve years under a false identity.
Declared cognitively incapacitated.
Her guardian?
Marco Richie.
The physician certifying incapacity received payments from a Sako company.
Giana nearly collapsed.
Tomaso caught her.
This time she let him.
They drove to Wisconsin with attorneys and federal investigators.
Giana entered the room alone.
Her mother sat near a window.
Thin.
Gray in her hair.
Older.
But unmistakable.
“Mom?”
Isabella turned.
Her eyes widened.
“Giana?”
One word destroyed twelve years.
Giana crossed the room.
Her mother held her.
Both cried.
Isabella was not cognitively impaired.
She had been drugged intermittently.
Threatened.
Isolated.
Marco told her Giana would die if she attempted escape.
Regina controlled the facility through bribes.
Anthony Bellini helped hide the payments.
“Why?”
Giana asked.
Isabella looked at Tomaso.
“Because I found the ledger proving Anthony arranged his uncle’s murder.”
Tomaso went pale.
His father.
Anthony had raised him after the murder.
Loved him.
Guided him.
Built himself into Tomaso’s most trusted adviser.
Isabella continued.
“Anthony and Regina were partners before your father died.”
Tomaso sat.
“They killed him?”
“Yes.”
“And Marco?”
“He helped move the money.”
Giana closed her eyes.
Her father had not merely abandoned her mother.
He imprisoned her.
The poker game had been another move in a conspiracy twelve years old.
Marco’s gambling losses were real.
But Anthony ensured Tomaso would play.
Regina provoked him.
They expected Giana to enter the Bellini penthouse.
Then Anthony planned to use her presence to frame her for stealing the archive.
The worthless daughter.
The desperate woman.
Who would question it?
But they had made one fatal mistake.
They believed Marco’s description of Giana.
Stupid.
Dependent.
Ashamed.
They had no idea Isabella had trained her.
Isabella smiled weakly.
“I taught you to count cards before multiplication.”
Giana laughed through tears.
“You cheated.”
“I was your mother.”
They relocated Isabella.
Then Giana made a decision.
She would destroy the conspiracy financially.
Not with guns.
Not executions.
Numbers.
Tomaso gave her controlled access.
Giana mapped everything.
Sako companies.
Anthony’s holdings.
Marco’s shells.
Political bribes.
Real estate.
Casino accounts.
She discovered Regina’s empire depended on leveraged properties backed by fraudulent collateral.
One exposure could trigger defaults.
Tomaso asked:
“How fast?”
“To hurt her?”
“Yes.”
“Hours.”
“To destroy her?”
“Legally?”
He sighed.
“Yes.”
“Months.”
“Too long.”
“Welcome to civilization.”
He smiled.
Giana began.
Regulators received anonymous documentation.
Banks froze accounts.
Insurance companies challenged claims.
A federal grand jury opened.
Regina’s liquidity vanished.
Marco called Giana.
For the first time since the poker game.
“You little bitch.”
Giana smiled.
“Hello, Dad.”
“What did you do?”
“Balanced the checking account.”
He went silent.
“You think Bellini cares about you?”
“That isn’t relevant.”
“He won you.”
“No.”
“He owns you.”
“No.”
Marco shouted.
Giana lowered the phone.
Then said:
“You taught me my value depended on whether a man wanted me.”
Silence.
“Mom taught me value can be calculated differently.”
“You found her.”
“Yes.”
Marco hung up.
That night, someone shot at Giana’s vehicle.
She survived because Tomaso insisted on armored transportation.
She hated admitting he had been right.
At the penthouse, he paced.
“I’m moving you.”
“No.”
“They tried to kill you.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll put you somewhere nobody knows.”
“No.”
“Giana.”
She stood.
“I spent my entire life being hidden because my father thought I embarrassed him.”
Tomaso stopped.
“I’m not disappearing because Regina is afraid of me.”
“This isn’t pride.”
“No. It’s choice.”
He stared.
Then asked:
“What do you need?”
The question changed everything.
Not:
What will you obey?
What can I buy?
Where will I put you?
What do you need?
“Security.”
“Yes.”
“Information.”
“Yes.”
“And no retaliation without telling me.”
His expression tightened.
“Hard.”
“Tomaso.”
“Yes.”
“Promise.”
He looked at her.
“I promise.”
Their relationship changed slowly.
They worked until midnight.
Ate together.
Argued.
Giana discovered Tomaso hated olives.
He discovered she watched terrible reality television.
She learned his father had raised him to believe affection created weakness.
He learned she had avoided mirrors for years.
One evening she wore the emerald dress again.
Tomaso stared.
“What?”
she asked.
“You know what.”
“No.”
“You’re beautiful.”
Giana stiffened.
He noticed.
“Wrong thing?”
“No.”
She looked away.
“I don’t know what to do with compliments.”
“Accept them?”
“Sounds suspicious.”
He smiled.
“You are beautiful.”
She looked at him.
“And terrifyingly intelligent.”
“Better.”
He laughed.
Then kissed her.
Giana kissed him back.
For three seconds.
Then stopped.
“What?”
Tomaso asked.
“I need something clear.”
“Anything.”
“I am not payment.”
“I know.”
“I’m not here because you won me.”
“I know.”
“If this happens, it happens because I choose it.”
Tomaso’s voice softened.
“Yes.”
Giana kissed him again.
This time longer.
Two weeks later, Isabella identified the encryption key for the stolen drive.
Giana traced access.
Anthony had copied it.
He planned to sell the archive to Regina during a meeting at the Onyx Club.
The same room where Giana had been wagered.
Tomaso wanted agents to raid it.
Giana had another idea.
“Let them meet.”
“Why?”
“Because Regina still thinks I’m stupid.”
“She no longer thinks that.”
“She thinks I’m clever with computers.”
“Difference?”
“A large one.”
Giana smiled.
“She still believes I’m emotionally weak.”
Tomaso did not like the smile.
“What are you planning?”
“I’m going back to the poker table.”
“No.”
“You promised.”
“I promised not to retaliate without telling you.”
“You also asked what I needed.”
“What do you need?”
May you like
Giana looked toward the Chicago skyline.
“One more game.”
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