Chapter 4
Vittorio cleared the room of everyone except us.
The nurses left.
Samuel stayed.
Two bodyguards remained at the door.
Lily slept against my chest.
Noah lay beside me.
I watched my father.
“Why him?”
Dad looked tired.
Not ashamed.
Tired.
“Because Ethan made preparations.”
“What preparations?”
He glanced at Vittorio.
My father-in-law's face changed slightly.
“You knew?”
I asked.
Vittorio answered first.
“Some.”
That hurt.
“Some?”
“Ethan wanted out.”
Dad laughed bitterly.
“There.”
Vittorio ignored him.
“He wanted you and the children away from this world.”
My throat tightened.
Ethan had shown me pictures of a lake house months earlier.
He asked if I could live somewhere cold.
I thought he was joking.
He wasn't.
“He was leaving?”
“Yes.”
“With us?”
“Yes.”
I looked down at Noah.
“Then why does my father care?”
Dad answered.
“Because Ethan couldn't simply leave.”
Vittorio's expression hardened.
“He could.”
“You know better.”
Dad looked at me.
“Your husband had men loyal to him.”
Not employees.
Not soldiers.
People.
Drivers.
Business owners.
Security teams.
Families Ethan had helped.
“He didn't want them,” Vittorio said.
“No.”
Dad nodded toward Noah.
“But Mercer believed they would eventually want him.”
The name hit the room like something physical.
Vittorio went still.
“Cole Mercer?”
Dad realized he had said too much.
Too late.
I looked at Vittorio.
“Who is that?”
“A man who worked for me.”
Past tense.
“What happened?”
“He betrayed Ethan.”
My mouth went dry.
“How?”
“He passed information to people who wanted my son isolated.”
Dad scoffed.
“That's one version.”
I turned toward him.
“You know him?”
No answer.
Mark stared at his hands.
Vittorio's voice became almost gentle.
“How do you know Mercer?”
Dad looked toward the window.
“That isn't important.”
Vittorio took one step forward.
“It became important when you touched my grandson.”
Still nothing.
Then Dad made another mistake.
“He told me Ethan's accident changed everything.”
The room stopped.
I stared at him.
“How did he know about Ethan's accident?”
Dad looked at me.
I kept going.
“Before or after?”
“Emma—”
“Before or after Ethan died?”
Mark whispered:
“Dad.”
Dad snapped at him.
“Don't.”
There.
That word.
Don't.
Not denial.
I felt something inside me fall away.
My father had been talking to a man connected to Ethan's enemies.
And then another memory surfaced.
At the funeral, Dad had looked at Ethan's coffin and said:
At least you didn't have to see him like that.
The coffin had been closed.
The funeral home told only me and Vittorio why.
I looked at my father.
“How did you know?”
His face emptied.
“What?”
“The coffin.”
Vittorio slowly turned.
I continued.
“You knew why it was closed.”
Dad didn't answer.
Vittorio stepped closer.
“I never told you.”
Silence.
Neither had I.
Mark covered his face.
May you like
And I understood.
My father had known details about my husband's death that no one had ever given him.
