Chapter 8
Vivienne Ashworth had always seemed gentle.
That was the useful part.
Edmund was the visible head.
Vivienne hosted dinners.
Remembered birthdays.
Kissed cheeks.
Asked after children.
Nobody watched the woman pouring tea.
Genevieve said that was a mistake.
“My father negotiates.”
She looked at me.
“My mother remembers where everyone is weak.”
The line on the connected call had been hers relaying a man beside her:
When the wedding is done, Rienzi loses everything.
Not her voice.
Someone with her.
A captain.
One of mine.
I understood.
“Where is she?”
Genevieve hesitated.
Then answered.
“The conservatory house.”
A private Ashworth property thirty minutes outside the city.
Edmund cursed when he heard.
That interested me.
He had not known Genevieve would tell me.
Father and mother were not as unified as they appeared.
We went before dawn.
No army.
Rafe.
Six men.
Genevieve came because the property security would open for her.
Edmund stayed behind.
The conservatory house was lit.
Inside, Vivienne sat at a long breakfast table with three men.
Two were mine.
Capos Vincent Serra and Paul D’Angelo.
The third was a former Rienzi adviser named Marcus Vale, removed by my father seventeen years earlier.
The man on the phone.
He looked at me and did not pretend surprise.
“Alessandro.”
“Marcus.”
Vivienne smiled.
“Genevieve always was impulsive.”
Her daughter flinched.
I noticed.
Marcus looked at Genevieve.
“You were supposed to keep him distracted until tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
“What happens tomorrow?”
Nobody answered.
I walked farther into the room.
Marcus finally said:
“Your captains vote.”
I almost laughed.
“We don’t vote for bosses.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“They vote whether your orders still bind them.”
There.
Four captains publicly refusing me at once would create the appearance of a split.
Then Ashworth money would guarantee salaries.
Old allies would reappear.
Genevieve, as my new wife, would announce a temporary family council to prevent bloodshed.
Elegant.
No assassination.
No coup in the street.
Just authority dissolving while everyone claimed to be preserving peace.
I looked at Genevieve.
She whispered:
“I didn’t know about tomorrow.”
Vivienne’s smile hardened.
“You weren’t required to.”
That was when Genevieve finally understood.
May you like
She had never been a partner in her family’s plan either.
She was the ceremonial bridge they intended to use and discard.
