Everyone assumed I would choose my brother. He was my blood, my last remaining family. But my shaking hand had pointed to Matteo. Keeping him alive was my only path forward.
I would never forget my brother’s expression in that moment. It was despair and helplessness, mixed with understanding. There hadn’t been a trace of blame in his eyes.
By the time our men finally arrived and smashed open the water tank, my brother had been underwater too long. His brain had been starved of oxygen, leaving him in a vegetative state.
Matteo had dragged the best doctor in the city to his bedside at gunpoint, forcing him to save my brother. The doctor said recovery was unlikely. But as long as my brother lived, there was hope. Matteo had sworn he would take care of him for the rest of his life.
But now, for another woman, Matteo was ready to destroy that fragile hope himself.
I drew my pistol, aimed it at his head and pulled the trigger. Matteo did not duck at all, so I forced myself to miss the shot. My hands were shaking so badly that the bullet grazed his cheek and left a red line. Matteo lifted his hand and wiped the blood away.