Page 261 of Breaking Rosalind
As he coughs out a mouthful of blood, I lean over his body and spit. “But don’t worry. I’ll make sure your last few moments of life are filled with despair.”
Hours later, sunlight streams through the windows, landing on their beautiful faces. They sleep facing each other, looking like angels at rest. Rosalind shivered in the middle of the night from withdrawal, but she calmed when I gave her another dose of Christian’s antidote.
My chest tightens at the thought of them leaving. I haven’t slept a fucking wink, too preoccupied with engraving every detail of their faces to memory.
Rosalind has completed her end of the bargain. She helped me destroy the Moirai and take down the Galliano brothers. If she decides to leave, I will let her go because I love her too much to keep her captive.
Miranda knows the whole truth, now. She understands that I used her as a pawn to get to Rosalind, that I’m no different from Gunther. The betrayal that flashed across her features when I explained what I had done broke my heart, even though she claimed to forgive my actions.
A soft knock on the door pulls me out of my funk. I go to answer it and find Gil standing in the hallway, with his head bowed.
“Roman wants to see you in the study,” he says.
“Later.”
“It’s urgent.”
With a sigh, I cast them one final glance, wondering if Rosalind will use this opening to wake Miranda and flee or if she’ll at least stay to get her two million dollars.
My heart pounds as I walk through the hallways and down the stairs. They know. Know that I’m not a Montesano. Know that I’m a Galliano. Know I held this secret for years, living among my brothers like a traitor in their midst.
I pause at the study door, trying to push back a wave of dread, but the weight of my deception drags my stomach to the marble floor. Gil pushes it open, and I step inside.
Roman’s desk is empty, and the portrait of him hanging above it glowers down at me, its eyes harsh with accusation. I turn to the sofas, where he and Benito await.
My oldest brother looks so disheveled and half-starved that my jaw drops. His eyes are bloodshot and rimmed with red, like he’s spent the entire night crying. And the way he slumps on the sofa makes him seem like he’s lost fifty pounds. Roman didn’t even look this bad in prison.
“What’s happened?” I ask.
Roman’s jaw tightens. “How long did you know you were Matty Galliano’s son?”
Flinching at the directness, I clear my throat. “I didn’t know anything for sure?—”
“When did you find out?” he growls.
“Mom left a letter addressed to me, saying that I wasn’t Dad’s son.”
“Where is it?” he asks.
“I tore it and burned the pieces.”
Roman and Benito exchange glances, probably detecting my bullshit. I would never destroy anything belonging to Mom, but neither of my brothers know how to break safes.
“If you’re wondering about my loyalty, don’t bother. Enzo Montesano is the only father I acknowledge.”
Roman nods. “Considering Benito saw your girlfriend blow up Tommy Galliano’s helicopter and you shot Matty, I’d say you’re still loyal.”
“Then why am I here?” I ask. “Is this about Rosalind?”
He waves off my question.
“Then what?”
“I got a phone call from Tommy Galliano’s son, saying his father survived the helicopter crash and wants to speak to you.”
My eyes widen. The Galliano brothers are as tenacious as herpes.
“He can go to hell,” I spit.