Chapter 11
Serena broke first.
“Adrian.”
He looked at her.
“Do it.”
“No.”
One word.
Her face changed.
“What?”
“I said no.”
She laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because disbelief needed somewhere to go.
“After everything?”
Adrian remained still.
Serena walked toward him.
“I spent six months fixing what she did to you.”
Eleanor watched.
Adrian frowned.
“Fixing?”
“You were invisible beside her.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were.”
Her voice sharpened.
“You waited for permission.”
“You apologized for decisions.”
“You acted like a boy.”
Adrian’s face tightened.
Serena continued.
“I made people see you.”
“No.”
He looked toward the shattered floral letters.
“You made them see you.”
That hit.
Serena slapped him.
The lawn gasped.
Adrian did not retaliate.
Serena pointed toward Eleanor.
“There.”
“You see?”
“Still weak.”
She laughed bitterly.
“You won't even defend yourself unless Mommy tells you.”
Eleanor said nothing.
Adrian looked at Serena.
Then removed his engagement ring.
Her face went blank.
“Don’t.”
He held it out.
“No.”
Serena’s confidence cracked.
“Adrian.”
“You used me.”
“I built you.”
“No.”
“You needed me.”
“No.”
Her voice dropped.
“You think anyone respectable wants a thirty-year-old man still living under his mother’s shadow?”
Adrian looked at Eleanor.
Then back at Serena.
“At least her shadow never lied about loving me.”
Serena went pale.
Grant stepped forward.
“Put the ring back on.”
Adrian almost laughed.
Grant grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t make my sister look stupid.”
Adrian pulled free.
Grant moved again.
Eleanor stepped between them.
Not because Adrian couldn’t fight.
Because Grant had already revealed himself enough.
Grant looked at Eleanor.
“This is your fault.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You turned him against family.”
Eleanor looked toward Serena.
“Family?”
Grant’s voice became cruel.
“More family than you.”
Then:
“You think blood makes you special because you gave birth to him?”
Adrian’s face hardened.
Grant continued.
“Serena actually made him useful.”
Eleanor stared.
“Useful to whom?”
Grant stopped.
Vincent looked away.
Too late.
Eleanor stepped closer.
“To Vincent?”
No answer.
“Or you?”
Silence.
Grant’s jaw tightened.
Eleanor continued.
“You never cared whether Adrian led.”
“You cared whether he owed you.”
Grant shoved her.
Again.
Eleanor barely moved.
The bodyguards stepped forward.
She raised one hand.
Not yet.
Grant smiled.
“Still need an audience?”
Then he pointed toward the guests.
“Ask them again.”
His contempt returned.
“Ask who wants the widow.”
Silence.
“Ask who wants the woman who couldn’t even keep her husband alive.”
Adrian surged.
Eleanor stopped him.
Not Grant.
Adrian.
“Don’t.”
Her son stared.
Grant smiled.
“See?”
Eleanor looked at him.
“You keep using Matteo because you have nothing of your own.”
Grant’s smile faded.
Eleanor continued.
“You use Serena.”
“Vincent.”
“Adrian.”
“Dead men.”
“Old customs.”
“Anything except your own name.”
A few capos nodded.
Grant saw.
He snapped:
“You think those old men respect you?”
He pointed toward the guests.
“Half raised glasses because they’re tired of you.”
One guest finally spoke.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
Arthur Bellini.
Fifty-eight.
Raised glass.
Black ribbon.
He stepped forward.
“I raised mine because Serena told me it was for Adrian’s engagement.”
Another guest nodded.
“So did I.”
Then another.
“I didn’t know the ribbon meant anything.”
A fourth:
“Grant told me to raise when Eleanor asked a question.”
Grant’s face changed.
The staged unanimity began dissolving.
One confession at a time.
Vincent shouted:
“Enough.”
Nobody obeyed.
That was the moment Eleanor knew he had lost the garden.
Then Thomas’s radio crackled.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Moretti convoy moving.”
“How many?”
“Eight vehicles.”
The lawn went silent.
May you like
Vincent smiled again.
Because even if the coup failed, the war he created was still coming.
