Chapter 2
Rocco did not strike Bianca.
That disappointed three men in the room.
He noticed.
One of them was his cousin Leonard Bellacorte.
Another was a capo named Victor Dane.
The third looked away quickly enough that Rocco did not catch the face.
Interesting.
Twenty years earlier, Rocco would have punished Bianca in front of them.
He would have mistaken their satisfaction for loyalty.
He was no longer twenty years younger.
“Take Noah upstairs,” he told Maria.
This time Noah agreed.
Rocco kissed his forehead.
“Maria stays with you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Maria carried him away.
Rocco waited until the child disappeared.
Then looked at Bianca.
“Sit.”
She remained standing.
August spoke softly.
“Bianca.”
She turned toward him.
Again.
A glance too familiar.
Rocco saw it.
“Sit.”
Bianca obeyed.
Rocco looked at August.
“How long have you known who she was?”
The old man’s expression remained perfect.
“Rocco, you cannot seriously believe—”
“How long?”
“I knew her father’s name.”
“When?”
“When you introduced her.”
“Two years ago.”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
August sighed.
“Children are not responsible for their fathers.”
Rocco almost smiled.
“That sounds like something I would say.”
“It is something you have said.”
“Yes.”
Rocco looked at Bianca.
“Except she came here for her father.”
Bianca folded her hands.
“You deserve that much truth.”
“I deserve none from you.”
He leaned forward.
“But my son does.”
Her face tightened.
Rocco continued.
“Why the servants’ room?”
“Because my father slept there.”
Silence.
Rocco frowned.
Thomas Hayes had been a Bellacorte driver before becoming a trusted operative.
Bianca looked around the grand reception room.
“You remember Thomas Hayes as a traitor.”
“I remember him before that.”
“Do you remember he lived in this house?”
“No.”
“Of course.”
Her bitterness was quiet.
“My mother worked in the kitchen. My father drove for your family. We lived below the east stairs for four years.”
Rocco slowly looked toward August.
His uncle knew.
He could see it.
Bianca continued.
“My father carried coats at dinners like this. He opened doors for men who called him useful when they needed him and trash when they didn’t.”
“That does not justify what you did to Noah.”
“No.”
The answer surprised him.
She looked toward the staircase.
“I know.”
Rocco studied her.
Remorse?
Perhaps.
Not enough.
“Why marry me?”
“At first?”
“Yes.”
“To destroy your house.”
August spoke.
“Enough.”
Rocco turned.
Bianca did too.
There was fear in her face again.
Not of Rocco.
Of August.
That settled something.
Rocco leaned back.
“Continue.”
August’s voice became firmer.
“This woman assaulted your child.”
“Yes.”
“She admits entering your life for revenge.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you letting her perform?”
Rocco looked at his uncle.
“Because you want her silent.”
August’s expression cooled.
“Be careful.”
The room reacted.
Nobody spoke to Rocco Bellacorte that way anymore.
Except men who remembered changing his diapers.
Rocco smiled faintly.
“August.”
The old man stared.
“You have spent forty years teaching me that fear reveals alliances.”
Rocco looked toward Bianca.
“And she is afraid of you.”
Bianca closed her eyes.
August laughed.
“Ridiculous.”
Rocco addressed her.
“Did August know your father?”
She said nothing.
“Bianca.”
August stood.
Rocco did not raise his voice.
“Sit down, Uncle.”
August remained standing.
Two bodyguards shifted.
Not toward August.
Toward Rocco.
A tiny movement.
Rocco saw it.
So did Leonard.
The room had just become much more dangerous.
August slowly sat.
Rocco looked at Bianca.
“Answer.”
She whispered:
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He found me when I was seventeen.”
Rocco stopped.
Five years after Thomas died.
“What did he tell you?”
“That you killed my father.”
“I ordered it.”
August’s eyes closed briefly.
Bianca stared.
The blunt confession hurt more than denial.
Rocco continued.
“I was thirty-two. Matteo had been murdered. Every piece of information I had pointed toward Thomas.”
“Because August gave it to you.”
Silence.
Rocco looked at his uncle.
August did not react.
Bianca continued.
“He told you where to find the missing route schedule.”
Rocco remembered.
A folded card inside Thomas’s locker.
“He told you Thomas had met a Vale soldier.”
Yes.
“He told you Thomas left the harbor forty minutes before the ambush.”
Yes.
Rocco’s breathing slowed.
“How do you know those details?”
“Because August told me.”
“Why?”
“So I would hate you correctly.”
August laughed.
“This is absurd.”
Bianca looked at him.
“You told me the Bellacortes killed my father because Rocco needed someone to blame.”
August’s eyes hardened.
“You were a grieving child.”
“You found me.”
“I helped you.”
“You trained me.”
Rocco went still.
“What?”
Bianca looked at him.
“Not with guns.”
She almost smiled.
“With patience.”
August had taught her how to enter rooms.
How to listen.
How to let wealthy people underestimate resentment.
How to wait.
Rocco looked at his uncle.
“You built her revenge.”
August’s voice remained calm.
“I kept a damaged girl alive.”
Bianca laughed.
“You told me the day Rocco loved me enough to marry me, Thomas Hayes would finally have justice.”
Rocco looked toward the engagement ring on the coat table.
Then toward August.
“What was supposed to happen after the wedding?”
Bianca said nothing.
Rocco waited.
Finally:
“I was supposed to remove the people loyal to Noah.”
Rocco’s expression changed.
“Maria.”
“Yes.”
“Clara.”
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
“His tutor when he got older. His guards. Anyone who answered to him before me.”
“Why?”
Bianca’s eyes moved toward August.
“He said the Bellacorte family had to learn how easily an heir could become a servant.”
Rocco stood.
August rose with him.
The old man’s face had lost its warmth.
“Rocco.”
Rocco looked at his uncle.
“My son was not the revenge.”
Bianca whispered:
“No.”
“Then what was?”
She looked toward the six capos.
“The wedding.”
Rocco slowly followed her gaze.
Three of the men refused to look at him.
May you like
Bianca continued.
“After you married me, half your family was going to stop answering to you.”
