The chandelier above her flickered as if it too was nervous. Valentina stood in the dimmed study of Don Arturo's estate, her silk dress clinging to her as though it sensed the gravity in the room. Every wall bore the weight of history paintings of dead Dons, maps of old territories, relics of past reigns and now, all eyes were on her.
But she didn't feel watched by the portraits.
She felt watched by the living.
Don Arturo's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Venice will test your loyalty, Valentina. And your memory."
"Memory?" she echoed.
He turned to pour himself a drink. "You're not just a girl with a bloodline. You're a girl with a vault in her head. One your father sealed shut before his death."
Her pulse jumped. "What are you talking about?"
Arturo swirled the amber liquor in his glass. "You were there the night he died. You think you weren't because your mind was scrubbed clean. But your eyes saw everything. And Venice is where we plan to unearth the truth."
Valentina felt the floor shift beneath her. "You're lying."
"Am I?" He took a sip. "Or have you been living in the lie they built for you?"
Before she could respond, Lupo burst in, eyes wild.
"She's not ready," he snapped. "You're using her like bait!"
Arturo turned, eyes narrowing. "You forget your place, Lupo. Or has your past clouded your discipline?"
Valentina looked between them. "What past?"
Neither answered.
But the silence told her everything.
They were both hiding something. Something they shared.
Later that night, Valentina paced the private balcony. The stars above offered no clarity. Her thoughts were a tangle of oaths and secrets.
Lupo appeared, as if summoned by her unrest.
"You were there," she said without turning. "The night my father died."
His silence was confirmation.
"I saw it," she whispered. "Or I'm starting to."
Flash.
Her father's voice screaming.
The glint of gold rings three of them on the hand that pulled the trigger.
A white Venetian mask.
Blood on the floor.
She clutched her temple. "Why can't I remember who killed him?"
"Because Don Arturo made sure you couldn't," Lupo said. "He made us swear to protect you. And to protect the secret."
"What secret?"
Lupo hesitated. "The name you're meant to inherit."
A pause.
"What name?"
"You're not Valentina Moreno." His voice was hoarse. "You're Valentina Ricci. Daughter of Massimo Ricci. The original founder of the Blood Inheritance Pact."
Her knees buckled.
"I'm, mafia royalty?"
"You're more than that," he said. "You're the key to the entire pact. And you're the last one alive who can invoke its end."
Suddenly, Emilio burst onto the balcony.
"You told her?" he roared. "Are you insane?!"
"She deserved the truth," Lupo growled.
Emilio pointed a gun at Lupo's chest.
"She deserved peace!"
"I gave her power."
Valentina stepped between them. "ENOUGH!"
The gun wavered.
"I go to Venice. Not because you order it" she looked at Arturo in the distance, who had quietly arrived, watching the entire scene "but because I need to remember."
Arturo smiled coldly. "Then pack for war, not peace."
Final Scene:
Later that night, a hidden figure watched the estate from a hillside.
She wore red stilettos. Her lips matched. Her gloved hand held an envelope sealed in wax.
Inside: a photo of Valentina as a baby being held by the man in the white Venetian mask.
Beneath it, a note.
Blood remembers what memory forgets.
She is mine. And I'm coming to claim her.