After weeks of working with the men,
One day when Andrea resumed for work,
The man directed him. "Second floor, work's waiting for you there"
Andrea nodded, afterall he wasn't allowed to ask questions.
The man watched him go, a smirk playing on his lips,
'Inoscence, check. Perfect ' he grinned Back on the second floor, Andrea stood in the room tensed up, he knew something was wrong the moment the man didn't speak.
No jokes.
No instructions tossed over a shoulder.
Just a silent nod and a package pressed into Andrea's hands—heavier than usual, wrapped too carefully.
"Same place," the man said finally. "No stops."
Andrea hesitated. "What's inside?"
The man's eyes lifted.
That was all it took.
Andrea nodded and walked.
He didn't see the police until it was too late.
Blue lights bloomed at the end of the street like an answer to a question he hadn't meant to ask. Shouts followed. Heavy footsteps. Hands grabbing his arms, forcing the package to the ground.
"Don't move!"
Andrea froze, heart hammering so hard it hurt.
The package was kicked open.
A gun slid onto the pavement.
Andrea's world tilted.
"I didn't know," he said frantically. "I swear—I was just delivering—"
"Save it," an officer snapped, tightening cuffs around his wrists.
Across the street, the man who had hired him stood perfectly still, hands raised, face empty.
A hitman, Andrea would later learn.
Professional. Wanted.
Andrea was sixteen and shaking.
The call reached Isabella first.
She dropped the phone.
Lucia screamed.
Marcello tried to sit up too fast.
Pain tore through his chest like a blade.
He had to be rushed back to the hospital,
Again.
The hospital room was chaos.
Doctors moved quickly, voices clipped and urgent.
"His blood pressure—"
"Prepare the monitor—"
"Family outside, please—"
Isabella stood frozen as they wheeled her father away.
In confinement,
Andrea sat on a hard bench down the hall, hands cuffed in front of him, eyes hollow.
"I didn't know," he kept repeating. "I didn't know."
An officer watched him with something close to pity.
"Sometimes," the man said quietly, "not knowing doesn't save you."
Marcello survived the night.
Barely.
The doctor's face was grave when he spoke to Isabella and Lucia.
"The stress triggered another episode," he said. "His heart is weak. Any more shock—any more strain—"
He didn't finish.
He didn't have to.
Across the city, Otilla D'Este read the report in silence.
"Arrested?" she asked.
"Yes," came the reply. "Minor. Connected to a wanted criminal."
Otilla closed her eyes.
Not in pleasure.
In calculation.
"This is unfortunate," she said softly.
A pause.
"No," she corrected. "This is… efficient."
She stood and walked to the window.
Below, sirens faded into the night.
A boy had crossed a line he didn't understand.
A father's heart had paid the price.
And Xavier Hernandez—
Otilla smiled faintly.
Xavier would definitely come looking now.
Because nothing pulled men out of obedience faster than the suffering of the innocent.
And she was ready for him.