Belladonna (Tom Holland)

Five

The first couple days being back at the Biancattis was comparable to being at a movie premiere. Everyone treated me as if I were glass. Within minutes every one of the families had heard Bella Dante came home and I had swarms of Irishmen and Italians rushing to see the famed daughter of Freddy Dante. I was famous for being an orphan. I felt like Harry Potter or Annie. Jacob also handed me a burner phone with one number type into it, presumably Tom's. When Lorenzo confirmed my place at the Biancatti table once again, I was to call him, which I did reluctantly.

"I'm assuming he's not giving you a position?" Tom asked, "You just resume your duties as mafia princess?" "I don't know who came up with that term but I hate it," I sighed, earning a low chuckle from him, "But yes. All I have to do is be around Jacob. You basically put me in here for no reason." "I have reasons, princess, they just have yet to arrive. You have two days until the De Luca shipment comes in and five until the Wonderland meeting. You can breathe. I'm not putting a knife against your throat," he said calmly. "You would love to though, wouldn't you?" I thought out loud, once again earning a low chuckle from him. "You don't know half the things I've wanted to do to you," his voice was quiet, like he was sharing a secret for the first time, "But we'll just have to wait until this is over." With that, he hung up, leaving me very conflicted.

I hated Tom, it was an irrefutable fact. He murdered my family and kidnapped and tortured me. He caused enough trauma for a normal person to commit suicide. But there was something about him I couldn't place. There was something off about the whole situation. He never talked about my family's murder, never admitted guilt. He only spoke of his desire to find me and kill me, but never of the pride he took in my family's murder. When considering Harrison's words as well, the timeline didn't match up. Harrison was hired after my father's death; before then, he was a hit man.

When Tom opened up about his family's murder, he told me we had one thing in common: that our families were dead. He didn't say that they were murdered by the Biancattis, but rather that they were dead. He only assumed it was the Biancattis, like I've always assumed it was the Hollands that murdered my family. But what if it wasn't?

There was a knock on my bedroom door before it opened, revealing Jacob. "You done?" he asked and I nodded. He then continued to enter my room with a different phone with blue electrical tape over it. "This is from Lorenzo," he said, "I put tape on it so you wouldn't get confused." Thanking him and accepting the phone, I began, "Can I ask you something, Jacob?" "Depends on your question," he answered and sat down at the foot of my bed, "What's been troubling that mind of yours?"

"Who killed my family?" I asked and he scoffed. "If that's the million dollar question, I want my money," he said in disbelief, "It was Harrison. You know that." "I do," I started to pace from wall to wall, trying to formulate my thoughts, "But Harrison was a hit man at the time. Who gave him the order?" Jacob didn't say a word. Rather he watched as I made a fool of myself pacing. One lap would be perfectly fine and the next I was stumble with each step. "Bella, what are you saying?"

"I'm not saying anything, I'm just speculating," I said, "Think about it. Has Tom ever outright admitted that he killed my family?" He was quiet once again. His expression transitioned from quizzical to concerned in a matter of nanoseconds. "I think you know better than anyone to discuss this outside of earshot," his voice was barely audible, "We'll talk about this another time." Without saying a word about the topic, he answered my question. As much as I wanted to continue on with the somewhat investigation I started in my mind, I didn't press further during my stay at Lorenzo's. Jacob was right, I had to watch what I said when I was here. I wasn't on the best terms with Lorenzo liked I used to be. I had been gone for six years and showed up out of the blue. I'd be suspicious of me too.