At a private Mafia jewelry preview, four-year-old Noah proudly approached his father with a handmade paper flower.
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Chapter 9 / 17
Chapter 9
Grant returned three months later asking to speak.
No entourage.
No performance.
He looked smaller.
That was not my goal.
He had simply lost the borrowed scale of Lombardi rooms.
He apologized to Isabella first.
Specific.
For grabbing her.
For pulling sleeves down.
For using Noah’s name as strategy.
For threatening distance.
Good.
Then he apologized to me.
I stopped him.
“I’m not central.”
He stared.
Important.
Men like us make everything between men too easily.
Grant had hurt my daughter.
My grandson.
My apology was secondary.
He understood eventually.
Then asked:
“Will I ever see Noah?”
Isabella answered.
“Not yet.”
Grant nodded.
Painful.
Necessary.
Then:
“When?”
“No promise.”
May you like
Better.
Trust cannot be scheduled like a business dinner.
