“They are registered under a private trust,” I said. “And I am the sole trustee.”

Enzo lunged forward, his hands slamming onto the table with a loud crack.

“You lie!” he screamed. “You are a piece of property! My uncle would never give his life’s work to an American girl.”

Matteo took a step into the room, his voice low and cold.

“He didn’t give it to her to keep the business going, Enzo,” Matteo said.

“He gave it to her because he knew she was the only one who couldn’t be bought by you.”

The guards behind Matteo did not move to stop him as he walked toward the table.

He stood beside me, his shoulder brushing mine, the scent of rain and copper clinging to his coat.

“The council rules on legacy,” Moretti said, looking up from the documents.

“The legacy belongs to whoever holds the legal title and the ledger,” the old man added. “That was Alessandro’s law.”

“This is treason,” Enzo hissed, looking at the other three council members seated in the shadows.