Chapter 13
Vincent was invited to dinner.
Not dragged into a basement.
Not surrounded by armed men.
Dinner.
The same Ventresca dining room where he had eaten for nineteen years.
Alessio sat at one end of the table.
Teresa sat nearby.
Marco was not present.
Claudia was not invited.
Vincent arrived smiling.
He stopped smiling when he saw Isabella’s photograph placed beside Alessio’s plate.
The one from the greenhouse.
Vincent slowly sat.
“So you found it.”
Alessio leaned back.
“You knew she recorded you.”
“I suspected.”
“You let Claudia destroy her garden looking for the cards.”
Vincent said nothing.
“You knew the irises were a decoy?”
“No.”
That answer appeared genuine.
Vincent had apparently spent years believing Isabella had buried proof there too.
“Why?”
Vincent looked older suddenly.
“Because I was tired of building your world and owning none of it.”
Alessio listened.
Vincent had joined him when both men were young.
He had helped expand businesses, settle disputes, maintain relationships.
But every room eventually turned toward Alessio.
Every final decision carried Alessio’s name.
Resentment accumulated quietly.
Claudia recognized it.
She offered Vincent a parallel structure.
Clients loyal to them.
Money Alessio did not control.
Influence that did not require permission.
“You used my wife’s illness.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
The admission was quieter than Alessio expected.
“You watched her weaken.”
“Yes.”
“And kept going.”
“Yes.”
Alessio’s hand curled around the edge of the table.
For one second everyone in the room expected violence.
Vincent probably expected it most.
Alessio released the table.
“You’re finished.”
Vincent blinked.
“That’s it?”
“You no longer speak for me. You no longer enter my businesses. Everyone you dealt with will hear exactly what happened.”
Vincent laughed.
“You think exile scares me?”
“No.”
Alessio pushed Isabella’s photograph across the table.
“I think becoming irrelevant does.”
Vincent looked down.
That landed.
His entire betrayal had been built on the desire to matter.
Now Alessio was removing the only name that made outsiders care who Vincent Caruso was.
Vincent stood.
At the door he stopped.
“Isabella always thought you’d kill me if you knew.”
May you like
Alessio stared at the photograph.
“She underestimated how tired I am of proving people right about me.”
