Chapter 4
Celia had met Marco four years after the family declared him dead.
Not in another country.
Not in hiding far away.
Ten miles from the Bellandi estate.
An abandoned greenhouse behind a property Celia once owned.
Marco contacted her using a phrase from childhood.
Three knocks.
Then:
The fox stole the grapes.
Celia went alone.
He was waiting.
Thinner.
Beard grown.
Scar along one hand.
Alive.
She wanted to embrace him.
Instead Marco placed a gun on the table between them.
“He said Father had betrayed him,” Celia told them.
Nico stood near the windows.
Vera sat in Marco’s chair again.
Celia hated it.
She no longer ordered her to move.
“What betrayal?” Nico asked.
“Marco discovered Salvatore and Renato had created a second council.”
Nico frowned.
“What second council?”
“They called it the Laurel.”
Jonah looked away.
He had heard the name.
Vera noticed.
Not a council that met formally.
No table.
No list.
Five men.
Sometimes six.
People who could influence the Bellandi family without appearing before the official family.
Salvatore.
Renato.
Two men from allied families.
One old enforcer.
Later Celia herself.
“What did they do?” Vera asked.
Celia looked at her.
“Everything the official council could not admit it wanted.”
Remove an ally without starting a public feud.
Feed false information to a rival.
Arrange marriages.
Break partnerships.
Create distrust.
Make one man believe another wanted him dead.
Not legal power.
Psychological power.
The ability to move people through fear.
Marco discovered it.
Then discovered something worse.
The Laurel had engineered conflicts inside the Bellandi family itself.
Salvatore believed sons became stronger when they survived betrayal.
“He tested Marco,” Celia said.
Nico’s face darkened.
“How?”
“A shipment disappeared.”
Marco was blamed.
A cousin accused him of taking money.
Two captains refused his orders.
Marco thought the family was turning against him.
In reality, Salvatore arranged all three.
“He wanted to know whether Marco would break,” Celia said.
Vera stared.
“And?”
“He didn’t.”
“Then?”
“He found out.”
That was when Marco turned against his father.
He threatened to expose the Laurel to the official council.
Salvatore refused to allow it.
Renato arranged the burned car.
Not to kill Marco.
To erase him.
A trusted driver took Marco out of the city before the car burned.
“You exiled him,” Nico said.
Celia looked at him.
“Yes.”
“You told me he was dead.”
“Yes.”
“You let me attack D’Amato.”
Her face tightened.
“I tried to stop your father.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Hard enough?”
Celia did not answer.
Nico laughed once.
Vera saw grief hiding beneath rage.
“How many men died because of that lie?”
Celia whispered:
“Too many.”
Nico looked away.
Vera asked the next question.
“Why did Marco kill Renato?”
Celia’s eyes moved to Jonah.
Jonah spoke.
“He came back.”
Four years later, Marco learned Renato had found the place where he was living.
Renato went after him.
Why remained disputed.
Celia believed Renato wanted to bring Marco back under control.
Jonah believed Marco ambushed him.
What they knew:
Renato left one night.
His driver returned alone.
Renato was found the next morning in a private Bellandi room, alive but badly injured.
He died hours later.
Before dying, he whispered one name.
Marco.
Jonah had been twenty-four.
He heard it.
From that day, Marco became the man who murdered his father.
“Did you see Marco?” Vera asked.
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
“The driver.”
“Where is he?”
“Dead.”
“When?”
“Two months later.”
Vera looked at Celia.
“Convenient.”
Celia did not argue.
Nico stared at Jonah.
“You’ve hated my brother for seventeen years because of one dying word.”
Jonah stood.
“My father said his name.”
“That is not the same as saying Marco killed me.”
Jonah’s jaw tightened.
“You weren’t there.”
“No.”
“Neither were you.”
Silence.
Vera leaned forward.
“What did Renato say exactly?”
Jonah looked at her.
“Marco.”
“Nothing else?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
Jonah’s eyes shifted.
Celia saw.
“So did Vera.”
“Jonah.”
He shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Nico crossed the room.
“It matters now.”
Jonah stared.
“My father said…”
He stopped.
Vera waited.
“He said, ‘Marco was right.’”
Celia went still.
Nico looked at his cousin.
“You buried that part.”
Jonah’s eyes filled.
“I was twenty-four.”
“So?”
“I wanted someone to hate.”
Nico’s face hardened.
“So you chose my brother.”
Jonah shouted:
“He was already gone!”
The room went silent.
Vera understood before anyone said it.
A dead or missing man was a perfect enemy.
He could not defend himself.
Jonah lowered his voice.
“My father was dying. He said Marco’s name. Then he said Marco was right.”
“About what?” Vera asked.
Jonah shook his head.
“I never knew.”
Celia did.
Her face revealed it.
Vera looked at her.
“Tell them.”
Celia stood.
“No.”
Nico turned.
“Mother.”
Celia’s voice became cold.
“If Marco is really coming back, some truths should come from him.”
Vera looked at the clock.
2:58 A.M.
May you like
Less than twenty-one hours until midnight.
“Then we’d better be ready when he does.”
