Chapter 10
Ramona’s plan went beyond planting the medallion.
My staff found a packed suitcase in a guest suite.
Alina’s size.
Her clothes.
Some of Lucy’s.
Not packed by Alina.
Ramona had instructed two club attendants to collect items from our suite “after Mrs. Carbone leaves.”
There.
Physical proof of confidence.
I confronted her.
“You packed my wife’s clothes.”
“She wouldn’t have stayed after everyone knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That Bell blood steals.”
I placed Thomas’s mount cards on the table.
Her face hardened.
“Paper.”
Then the 2004 repair record.
Silence.
Then my father’s letter.
More silence.
Finally:
“You think one groom was worth splitting the family?”
There.
Vittorio’s philosophy survived perfectly in his daughter.
Not whether Thomas was innocent.
Whether truth was worth inconvenience.
I looked at Ramona.
“That is why you hate Alina.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
I spoke slowly.
“She proves the person your father sacrificed had a daughter who came back through the front door.”
Her expression broke.
Exactly.
Alina married me.
Not as revenge.
Not knowing the full truth.
Her mere presence disrupted the hierarchy Ramona believed should remain permanent.
Stable groom below capo.
His daughter below Carbone cousin.
Her child below “pure” Carbone blood.
Except Lucy was my daughter too.
Ramona had shoved a three-year-old carrying the blood she worshiped because the child came wrapped in a mother she despised.
That contradiction exposed the stupidity of the whole idea.
I asked:
“Did you mean to hurt Lucy?”
“No.”
Immediate.
“I knew the lane was sand.”
As if planned softness excused the shove.
“You decided what risk my child could take.”
She looked away.
“And Alina?”
Silence.
May you like
She had cared even less.
That ended any remaining question about her place near my family.
