Chapter 7
Carlo sat down without being asked.
Old men do that when secrets become heavier than pride.
Thomas remained standing.
“Say nothing.”
Carlo laughed.
“You still give orders like it’s 2008.”
My father’s face darkened.
I looked at Carlo.
“What happened to Bianca?”
Thomas interrupted:
“She betrayed us.”
I turned.
“My mother wanted to leave you.”
“She wanted to take you.”
“Yes.”
“You were a Moretti.”
“I was six.”
“You belonged here.”
No.
There it was.
Belonged.
Not loved.
Owned.
Carlo rubbed his hands together.
“Bianca learned Thomas was arranging meetings with the Bellucci crew.”
“For what?”
“Expansion.”
Thomas corrected:
“Protection.”
Carlo smiled.
“Expansion.”
I almost laughed.
Even now.
“What did Bianca do?”
“She threatened to expose the arrangement to senior capos.”
Thomas’s jaw tightened.
“She wanted to humiliate me.”
“No.”
I stared.
“She wanted to stop you.”
“She wanted to weaken the family.”
Same justification.
Always.
“What happened on the boat?”
Carlo exhaled.
“We took her out to talk.”
“We?”
“Thomas. Me. Bianca.”
“And?”
“She refused.”
Thomas snapped:
“She became hysterical.”
Carlo shook his head.
“No.”
My father glared.
“She was angry.”
That correction mattered.
Carlo continued:
“She said she was taking Valentina away that night.”
My chest tightened.
Thomas looked at me.
“She would have ruined you.”
“I was six.”
“She would have made you ordinary.”
I stared at him.
He thought that was worse than death.
“What did you do?”
Silence.
Carlo answered.
“Thomas grabbed her.”
My father:
“She swung first.”
Carlo:
“She tried to get free.”
“And then?”
Carlo looked at the pool.
Strange.
But I understood.
Water.
Again.
“She went over the railing.”
My stomach turned.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
I whispered:
“Did you help her?”
Carlo said nothing.
That was the answer.
Thomas opened his eyes.
“She could swim.”
Ethan gripped my hand.
Same sentence.
Different day.
Every dog knows how to swim.
I looked at my father.
“You watched my mother in the water.”
“She had made her choice.”
“And you let her drown.”
Thomas’s face hardened.
“If Bianca had listened, none of it would have happened.”
Twelve years of grief collapsed into one sentence.
Then Carlo whispered:
“She didn’t drown.”
May you like
Thomas turned sharply.
And the story changed again.
