Alessandro turned his gaze back to me.

“You need to understand the mechanism of your safety,” he said, walking to the desk.

He picked up a thick stack of papers bound in blue leather.

“Our laws in Italy are complex, but the syndicate’s laws are older.”

He tapped the papers with a long, yellowed fingernail.

“If I die tomorrow, my nephew Matteo inherits the title, but the council inherits the land and the banks.”

“Unless there is a widow,” I said, the realization settling like lead in my stomach.

“A widow who is not Italian,” Alessandro clarified, his eyes narrowing.

“A foreign citizen whose assets cannot be seized by the Italian courts or the council’s lawyers.”

He sat down in his leather chair, looking suddenly very old and frail.

“The moment we sign the registry, eighty million euros in offshore holdings will transfer to your name.”

“I will hold them in trust for Matteo,” he continued.

“The traitor in our ranks knows this is the only way I can block him.”

“Who is the traitor?” I asked.

“If I knew that, I would not need to marry you,” he replied.