Chapter 10
The wine room still smelled like cedar.
I had not entered since my father’s funeral.
Gabriel’s key opened a narrow cabinet behind the oldest shelves.
Inside were wooden boxes.
No legal records.
No formal files.
Just the kind of private family material men like Enzo trusted more than documents.
Photographs.
Voice notes.
Handwritten names.
Tokens.
My life, rearranged into evidence of manipulation.
One box carried Isabella’s name.
She stood beside me when I opened it.
Inside was the hotel receipt Dominic had shown me three years earlier.
Blank on the back.
Fake.
A photograph of Isabella entering a clinic.
Another of Dominic meeting her outside.
And a note in Enzo’s handwriting:
If Marco builds a family before Dominic secures his place, the boy becomes unnecessary.
I looked at Dominic.
He stood in the doorway under guard.
His face had gone completely still.
“You were always supposed to be my second.”
He said nothing.
Gabriel answered.
“Our father wanted more.”
Enzo believed I would eventually marry, have children, and become less dependent on Dominic.
So he taught his son one principle:
Never let Marco have a person he trusts more than you.
My father died before Dominic fully inherited that mission.
But Dominic continued it.
Maybe because of Enzo.
Maybe because he liked the power.
Probably both.
Isabella picked up another note.
Her face changed.
“What?”
She handed it to me.
Pregnancy confirmed. Remove before Rosa learns.
Dominic had known before Isabella told him.
He had people watching her clinic.
I looked at him.
“You knew about Lucia before Isabella came to you.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
The answer came quietly.
Isabella stared.
“You already knew?”
“Yes.”
“Then why pretend Marco had rejected us?”
Dominic finally looked at her.
“Because if you told him directly, he would choose you.”
There.
No complicated justification.
No family stability.
No succession language.
Fear of losing his place.
Isabella’s voice broke.
“So you stole three years.”
Dominic shrugged.
“You survived them.”
I felt rage rise.
Then Lucia’s voice came from behind us.
“Mommy?”
Isabella turned immediately.
Lucia stood with Teresa at the room entrance.
She looked at the boxes.
Then at me.
“Is this Daddy’s house?”
No one moved.
The word arrived so naturally she did not even realize what she had said.
Daddy.
My chest tightened.
Isabella covered her mouth.
May you like
Dominic looked away.
And suddenly every box in that room felt smaller than one word from a child I should have heard years earlier.
