Chapter 189: I Can’t Tell You

“That wasn’t—” Marco started, then stopped. Because how do you explain that it wasn’t just jealousy? “That’s not why I punched him.”

“Then why, for God fucking sakes?” Luca snapped, the patience he had barely been holding onto finally fraying at the edges.

Marco exhaled slowly. He could feel it—right there, at the back of his throat. The truth. Ugly, complicated, irreversible. But he swallowed it. “I can’t tell you.”

“Fuck!” Luca barked, dragging both hands through his hair as he turned away, pacing once more. He stopped abruptly, turning back to Marco. “I have one more question.”

Marco lifted his gaze.

“How will Veronica feel about this?”

There it was. The real center of Luca’s world.

Marco considered it for a second—not because he didn’t know the answer, but because he was calculating the version of the truth Luca could tolerate. “She may be pissed for a minute,” he said finally.

Luca’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Marco…Whatever you boys do, if it hurts Veronica in the slightest…”

A pause. A breath. A promise.

“You both will wish you were never born.”

“Understood,” Marco said simply.

Luca held his gaze for a second longer, then waved a dismissive hand, already retreating back into himself. “Get out.”

Marco pushed himself up from the floor in one smooth motion. He turned and walked out.

Luca sank slowly into his chair, exhaling through his nose as he leaned back, his fingers pressing briefly against his temples. “This is going to be a fucking mess,” he muttered.

*****

Julian adjusted the collar of his coat as the Uber pulled away, leaving him standing in front of a building that didn’t belong in the version of Vienna he had imagined.

The warehouse loomed in front of him, its metal doors scarred with age and use, the surrounding area eerily still.

Bianca’s instructions echoed in his head.

Take an Uber. Don’t use any family drivers.

At the time, it had felt… thrilling, secretive.

Julian exhaled as he approached the door. He had landed in Vienna just last night, the jet lag still clinging faintly to his bones, but excitement had overridden it, anticipation, hope. Because despite everything— despite the tension, the distance, the disaster of that kiss— she had reached out.

He pushed the door open.

It creaked slightly. Julian stepped in slowly, his footsteps echoing softly.

“Bianca?” he called.

He frowned slightly, moving further in, his eyes scanning the space.

A small smile tugged at his lips.

Maybe she had finally caved. Because God—he wanted her to, wanted her to choose him.

Even if it had to be hidden, even if it had to exist in shadows, even if it meant being second to a life she couldn’t escape.

He would take it.

“Bianca?” he called again, stepping deeper into the warehouse.

Julian stood there for a moment longer, his gaze sweeping slowly across the warehouse space Bianca had so carefully carved into something almost livable. It shouldn’t have worked but somehow, she had bent it to her will.

Chairs, a low bed tucked against one wall, dressed in dark sheets that looked untouched, more decorative than restful. Folding screens dividing sections. And in one corner—an office nook. Papers. A laptop. Files stacked in chaos.

“Julian!”

He turned just as she emerged from behind a black curtained divider.

“You’re here.”

“Yeah…” Julian replied, his eyes still scanning the room.

“I hope I didn’t make you put too much stress on your leg,” Bianca said, her gaze dropping briefly to it.

Julian followed her glance instinctively, shifting his weight slightly.

The injury had healed. But there was still a faint limp.

“No… it’s fine,” he said, brushing it off quickly. “You needed me.”

“What…” Julian started, turning slowly again, gesturing vaguely at the space around them. “What is this place?”

“My war room.”

“Excuse me?”

She stepped closer, slipping her fingers into his. “Come,” she murmured.

He let her lead him.

The curtain parted.

“What the fuck?!!”

“I know, right?” Bianca chuckled, stepping past him now, completely at ease in the chaos she had created.

His eyes were locked on the wall in front of him.

No—A map, a…a story.

Pictures lined the surface in obsessive order. Faces. Locations. Timelines. Strings of connection drawn in thread, linking one detail to another in a web that made his head spin just trying to follow it.

Notes scrawled in tight handwriting.

Dates circled. Names underlined.

Everything… intentional. Everything… calculated.

Julian stepped forward slowly. His fingers twitched at his side, resisting the urge to touch, to trace, to understand. “Bianca…” he breathed.

This wasn’t what he expected. This wasn’t a secret meeting. This wasn’t a stolen moment between lovers. This was—

“What is all this?” He turned to look at her.

Faces stared back at him from glossy photographs.

Julian’s eyes moved slowly, taking it in piece by piece. He recognized them.

People Luca worked with. People Veronica trusted.

He glanced at the notes.

Leverage. Weak link. Remove. Replace.

This was planning. Bianca was planning on rewriting lives.

Julian’s throat went dry as his gaze moved again, scanning, processing, trying to keep up with the sheer scale of it.

Dante, Bastardi, Vito, Detective Voss. That one made his brow furrow. Even— Carol.

“Jesus…” Julian muttered under his breath.

Even Carol made it to the fucking map.

No one was too small. No one was irrelevant.

Bianca had accounted for everyone.

His gaze kept moving.

Until— It stopped.

Because there, pinned among them was him.

Julian stared at his own face for a second.

Beside it was another photo. Their father.

“Who… who is this?” he asked finally, as he pointed to a particular photograph.

“Oh, that’s Cassidy Grant,” she said lightly. “Vee’s ex-boyfriend.”

Julian nodded slowly, absorbing that.

It made sense. Of course he’d be here. Of course she would consider him.

But then— Bianca continued, casually, carelessly. “Actually, I’ve been having an affair with him.”

Julian turned to her slowly.

Disbelief came first then confusion.

“An affair…” he repeated. “I don’t understand…”

His gaze flicked over her.

“You let him touch you?”

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