Chapter 13
They caught the first fake Bellini man near the south road.
The second abandoned his jacket and ran.
The third was harder.
He had positioned himself above the west bend overlooking the Moretti convoy route.
A rifle.
Bellini pin.
One shot would have been enough.
Not necessarily to kill.
Only to prove the “Bellini attack” continued.
Thomas’s men reached him three minutes before Moretti’s convoy came into view.
No shot.
No war.
Luca Moretti called again.
“You owe me.”
Eleanor answered:
“I know.”
That was enough.
The convoy turned.
Vincent’s final external weapon disappeared.
When Eleanor returned to the lawn, he was sitting in the old council chair.
Bold.
Ridiculous.
Dangerous.
He looked at her.
“You stopped one night.”
“Yes.”
“You think that changes what people see?”
Eleanor walked closer.
“What do they see?”
“A woman clinging.”
“Interesting.”
“An organization overdue for a man.”
There it was.
The truth beneath all the tradition.
Not stability.
Not Adrian.
Not Matteo.
Vincent could tolerate inheritance passing from father to son.
He could not tolerate Eleanor holding what he believed men should own.
“You could have challenged me openly.”
Eleanor said.
Vincent laughed.
“And let you turn the room against me?”
“So you chose Serena.”
“Yes.”
“Grant.”
“Yes.”
“Adrian’s insecurity.”
Vincent’s smile thinned.
“Useful.”
Adrian heard.
His face went cold.
Vincent continued.
“Your son wanted what every son wants.”
“What?”
“To know his mother will eventually stop treating him like a child.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“You never asked me.”
Vincent looked at him.
“I didn’t need to.”
“Yes.”
Adrian’s voice steadied.
“You did.”
Vincent scoffed.
“You’re confused.”
“No.”
“You're emotional.”
“No.”
Vincent’s face hardened.
“You think rejecting power makes you noble?”
Adrian shook his head.
“I’m rejecting yours.”
Silence.
Serena laughed from behind.
Not happily.
“Looks like your boy isn’t behaving.”
Vincent turned.
She smiled.
“Maybe take away his dessert.”
The mockery landed on him now.
Grant almost smiled.
Vincent’s face reddened.
Eleanor watched.
Their coalition was dead.
All that remained was blame.
Vincent stood from the old chair.
“Enough.”
His voice boomed across the garden.
Old capos instinctively quieted.
He felt the response.
Mistook habit for loyalty.
“There will be a decision.”
Henry stepped forward.
“No.”
Vincent stared.
Henry continued.
“You don't command this gathering.”
“I am senior Bellini blood.”
“So is Eleanor.”
“She married in.”
Henry looked toward Adrian.
“And gave the family its next generation.”
Vincent’s expression darkened.
Another capo spoke.
“Matteo trusted her.”
Another:
“So did we.”
Vincent looked around.
Not everyone supported Eleanor.
That would have been unrealistic.
But enough did.
More importantly, nobody stepped beside Vincent.
His eyes moved toward Grant.
Grant looked away.
Serena folded her arms.
Adrian stood beside Eleanor.
Vincent had spent months building supporters.
In the final moment, he stood alone.
Then Grant spoke.
“Tell them about the money.”
Eleanor turned.
Vincent froze.
Serena looked at her brother.
“What money?”
Grant smiled bitterly.
“Now everybody wants truth.”
Eleanor said:
“Speak.”
Grant looked at Vincent.
“He wasn’t giving me south crews.”
Vincent’s face hardened.
Grant continued.
“He was selling their loyalty.”
“No.”
“He paid men to switch after midnight.”
Silence.
Not paperwork.
Cash.
Old-fashioned.
Crude.
Grant added:
“Boxes in the tunnel.”
Eleanor looked at Thomas.
He understood.
The second vehicle leaving the north tunnel.
Not weapons.
Money.
Vincent had removed the cash before the reception began.
To pay defectors after Eleanor appeared publicly rejected.
Serena laughed.
“You bought the vote?”
Vincent snapped:
“Shut up.”
She smiled cruelly.
“So much tradition.”
Henry’s expression became disgusted.
Vincent had spent hours invoking old Bellini honor.
Meanwhile, he planned to purchase loyalty from men who would not give it freely.
Eleanor looked at him.
“Now we know why you needed the performance.”
Vincent said nothing.
“Because even after thirty years…”
May you like
She stepped closer.
“…you still didn’t have enough people willing to choose you without being paid.”
