Chapter 6
Patricia refused to remove the ring.
That lasted eleven seconds.
Emily did not hit her.
She simply looked at Marco, her oldest bodyguard.
He stepped forward.
Patricia took it off herself.
Smart.
Emily held the signet in her palm.
Inside were her father's initials.
A.M.
Anthony Moretti.
He wore it every day until his death.
Emily had asked where it went.
Ryan claimed hospital staff misplaced it.
Now it had been on Patricia's hand.
“How?”
Patricia looked bored.
“He gave it to me.”
Ryan stared at her.
“No.”
Patricia turned.
“What?”
Ryan's face had changed.
“He never gave you that.”
Silence.
Emily looked between them.
Interesting.
Ryan genuinely did not know.
For once.
“When did you get it?”
Patricia sat down.
“Six years ago.”
“The night he died?”
No answer.
Emily’s voice sharpened.
“The night?”
Patricia sighed.
“Yes.”
Tilda whispered:
“Oh God.”
Patricia rolled her eyes.
“Stop being theatrical.”
Emily stared.
“My father died.”
“And?”
The cruelty came easily now.
“He was seventy.”
“Men die.”
Emily's expression hardened.
“He was sixty-four.”
“Close enough.”
Ryan stood.
“Mom.”
Patricia snapped:
“Sit down.”
Ryan didn't.
For the first time, he looked like a son rather than an underboss.
“What happened that night?”
Patricia looked at him with contempt.
“Don't suddenly grow a conscience because your plan collapsed.”
Ryan's mouth tightened.
Emily watched.
Their alliance was cracking.
Good.
Patricia continued.
“Anthony was becoming weak.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed.
“How?”
“He wanted to pull the family away from the docks.”
“Wrong.”
“He wanted Emily trained abroad.”
“Correct.”
“That was the problem.”
Patricia pointed toward Emily.
“He wanted her to learn every foreign operation.”
“Every route.”
“Every alliance.”
Ryan stared.
“He told me I would handle domestic command.”
Patricia laughed.
“Acting command.”
The word hit him.
Ryan's face hardened.
“He said—”
“He said what kept you useful.”
Silence.
Emily almost pitied him.
Almost.
Patricia looked toward her.
“Your father knew Ryan was ambitious.”
“So?”
“He planned to keep him beneath you permanently.”
Emily’s voice remained flat.
“Sounds wise.”
Ryan glared.
Patricia continued.
“I warned Anthony.”
“About?”
“Making the family depend on a daughter who wanted children.”
Emily stared.
There it was again.
Motherhood as weakness.
Patricia believed it deeply.
“He laughed at me.”
Her face hardened at the memory.
“He said you could do both.”
Emily almost smiled.
That sounded like him.
Patricia did not.
“He was sentimental.”
“So you killed him?”
Ryan whispered:
“Emily.”
She didn't look away from Patricia.
The older woman scoffed.
“No.”
Not convincing.
Emily waited.
Patricia hated silence.
Eventually:
“I let him make his choice.”
“What does that mean?”
“He had a heart condition.”
Emily knew.
Minor arrhythmia.
Controlled.
“His medication?”
Patricia looked toward the fireplace.
Emily’s blood went cold.
“What did you do?”
Ryan stared.
“Mom.”
Patricia snapped:
“He refused to listen.”
Wrong answer.
Ryan went pale.
Emily’s voice became quieter.
“What did you do?”
Patricia leaned forward.
“You want to know why men like Anthony fail?”
“No.”
“They confuse love with leadership.”
“He loved you.”
“He underestimated me.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Patricia smiled without humor.
“He took his medication with dinner.”
Emily stopped breathing.
Patricia continued.
“He trusted whatever was placed beside his plate.”
Tilda covered her mouth.
Ryan sat down slowly.
Emily stared.
“You changed it.”
Patricia's eyes were cold.
“I changed one dose.”
“Why?”
“To frighten him.”
Emily almost laughed.
The same coward's phrase.
Not to kill.
To teach.
To frighten.
To correct.
“He died.”
Patricia's jaw tightened.
“That was not the plan.”
Emily looked at Ryan.
He looked sick.
Natalie whispered:
“You didn't know?”
He shook his head.
For once, Natalie lost her smirk.
Patricia looked irritated by all of them.
“Oh, spare me.”
She pointed toward Emily.
“Anthony's death gave her everything.”
Emily stared.
“No.”
Patricia smiled.
“It gave Ryan a chance.”
Then Emily understood the timeline.
Her father died.
Ryan became acting underboss.
Emily was sent overseas to stabilize operations.
Ryan remained home.
Every planned return was sabotaged.
Five years later, Sunday would make his control permanent.
Patricia had been building this for six years.
Maybe longer.
Ryan whispered:
“You used me.”
Patricia looked at him as if he were stupid.
“Of course.”
Silence.
“You were useful.”
Ryan stood.
“You said I deserved the chair.”
“You deserved an opportunity.”
“You said Emily abandoned us.”
“She did what we needed.”
Ryan stared.
The truth finally reached him.
He had spent five years thinking he was replacing Emily.
Patricia had spent six years using both of them.
Emily looked at her.
“What happens after Sunday?”
Patricia smiled faintly.
“Ryan sits at the head.”
“And?”
“The capos choose domestic stability.”
“And me?”
“You come home Monday.”
“Then?”
Patricia's eyes hardened.
“You discover nobody needs you.”
Emily almost smiled.
“You planned humiliation.”
“No.”
Patricia leaned forward.
“Correction.”
There it was.
The same word Ryan used for Ethan.
Same philosophy.
Pain as lesson.
Control as love.
Punishment as order.
Emily looked toward the ceiling.
Her son was upstairs.
Six years old.
He had been living inside Patricia's worldview.
Then Marco entered the cellar.
“Boss.”
Emily turned.
“What?”
“We found something in the garage.”
“What?”
“Your old travel cases.”
Emily frowned.
“They've been here for years?”
“Yes.”
“Inside one…”
Marco hesitated.
“There are dozens of unopened envelopes addressed to Ethan.”
Emily stared.
Not digital.
Physical.
Every birthday card she had mailed.
Every photograph.
Every letter.
Ryan looked at Patricia.
She said nothing.
Emily’s voice dropped.
“You took those too.”
Patricia smiled.
“He needed to stop waiting.”
May you like
And Emily realized the cruelty toward Ethan had never been collateral damage.
Breaking his hope had been part of Patricia's plan from the beginning.
