Chapter 14 - THE SON ENZO NEVER HAD
St. Agnes glowed with candlelight.
Nico had filled the basement with flames.
Not enough to burn.
Enough to resurrect the room.
Matteo sat in the bolted chair.
Not tied.
That was more disturbing.
Nico stood behind him.
Rocco Vieri sat at the opposite end of the table.
Dante stopped.
“You too.”
Rocco shrugged.
“I was invited.”
Javier entered beside Dante.
Matteo looked at his son.
“Leave.”
Javier laughed bitterly.
“Thirty-seven years and that’s still your solution.”
Matteo closed his eyes.
Nico smiled.
“Good.”
Dante looked around.
“Where’s Marco?”
“Gone.”
“With who?”
“He chose Matteo.”
Nico’s voice carried humiliation.
“He chose himself,” Dante corrected.
Nico ignored it.
At the table lay eight black stones.
The empty slot had been filled.
LEO.
Dante’s face changed.
Javier saw it.
He picked up the stone and threw it against the wall.
It cracked.
Nico’s expression darkened.
“That was unnecessary.”
Javier laughed.
“My entire life has been men carving names into things and deciding what they mean.”
He looked at Matteo.
“I’m done.”
Nico turned toward him.
“Your father isn’t.”
Matteo looked tired.
Dante studied him.
“You came here willingly.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To end it.”
Nico smiled.
“He means kill me.”
Matteo said nothing.
Javier stared.
“You were going to?”
“Yes.”
“After everything you said about fear?”
Matteo looked at his son.
“I am not cured because I understand my mistakes.”
That honesty hurt.
Javier lowered his gaze.
Dante understood too.
Insight did not erase instinct.
It only gave a man one second to choose against it.
Nico walked around the table.
“Enzo wanted sons who obeyed.”
He looked at Dante.
“He got one.”
Then Matteo.
“He got one who rebelled too late.”
Then Javier.
“He got a grandson who worshiped fear without understanding where it came from.”
Javier clenched his jaw.
Nico smiled.
“And Leo…”
Dante stepped forward.
“Do not say his name.”
Nico smiled wider.
“There.”
He pointed.
“That is why he matters.”
Dante stopped.
Nico continued:
“Enzo made you through fear.”
“You made Javier through fear.”
“Javier put fear into Leo.”
“Four generations.”
“A perfect inheritance.”
Dante looked at him.
“No.”
“It already happened.”
“No.”
“Leo screamed for you.”
“He is ten.”
“He needed his father.”
“Yes.”
Nico almost laughed.
“You think that disproves me?”
“Yes.”
Nico frowned.
Dante continued:
“He screamed because he believed I would help him.”
Silence.
“My father taught me not to call for help.”
Matteo looked up.
Dante continued:
“Leo did.”
The distinction landed.
Fear had entered.
But trust remained.
The chain was not complete.
Nico’s face hardened.
“You’re sentimental.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re weak.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t deserve the Romano chair.”
Dante removed his signet ring.
Everyone watched.
He placed it on the table.
Nico stared.
“What are you doing?”
“You want the chair?”
Dante looked at him.
“Take it.”
Nobody moved.
Nico stared at the ring.
Dante continued:
“You want me to name you Romano?”
“You know I am.”
“Then why need me?”
Nico’s face changed.
Dante leaned closer.
“You still want Enzo’s approval.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“He’s dead.”
“And you’ve spent your life trying to make his sons acknowledge you.”
Nico’s breathing changed.
There.
The wound.
Dante continued:
“You don’t want my empire.”
“You want your father to admit you existed.”
Nico struck him.
Dante took the blow.
Did not retaliate.
Nico stared.
“Fight me.”
“No.”
“Fight.”
“No.”
Nico shoved him.
Dante stayed standing.
Matteo watched.
Rocco understood first.
Dante was refusing Nico the ritual.
No dominance.
No contest.
No reenactment of Enzo.
Nico’s face twisted.
“You coward.”
Dante wiped blood from his lip.
“Maybe.”
Then:
“But I am done letting dead men choose how I behave.”
Nico reached for the gun inside his jacket.
Javier moved.
Matteo moved faster.
He caught Nico’s wrist.
The two older men struggled.
A shot struck the ceiling.
Rocco pulled Javier down.
Dante seized the weapon.
Nico hit Matteo.
Matteo collapsed against the table.
Javier lunged.
Dante grabbed him.
“No!”
“He hit my father!”
“And you think becoming him helps?”
Javier froze.
Nico backed toward the wall.
Rocco drew his weapon.
For one second, everyone had a target.
Then Matteo began laughing.
Quietly.
Painfully.
They looked at him.
“What?” Javier asked.
Matteo shook his head.
“Look at us.”
Nobody spoke.
“Enzo has been dead twelve years.”
He coughed.
“And he still got us all in one room trying to prove which son is strongest.”
Silence.
Nico’s face changed.
For the first time, shame.
Then footsteps came from upstairs.
Multiple.
Anthony’s men?
No.
A familiar voice.
Marco.
“Dad.”
Nico turned.
The sixteen-year-old stood in the doorway.
Leo beside him.
Dante’s blood froze.
“Leo.”
The boy looked terrified.
Anthony appeared behind them, bleeding from the forehead.
“I’m sorry, Boss.”
Dante crossed the room.
“What happened?”
Leo spoke.
“I came.”
Dante stared.
“You what?”
“I heard where you were going.”
“You left the estate?”
“Yes.”
Anger rose.
Then Dante saw Enzo inside the anger.
He killed it.
“Why?”
Leo looked at the black stone fragments on the floor.
“Because everyone keeps talking about me like I’m not there.”
Dante stopped.
The boy continued:
“I wanted to know why.”
Nico stared at Leo.
The next Romano son.
The symbol he had built an entire revenge around.
Leo looked back.
Not brave.
Scared.
Still standing.
Nico whispered:
“You’re supposed to hate him.”
Leo frowned.
“Who?”
“Your father.”
“Why?”
Nico looked almost confused.
“Because of what he is.”
Leo glanced toward Dante.
Then back.
“He told me he did bad things.”
Silence.
“He says that doesn’t mean I have to.”
Nico’s entire mythology broke on the simplicity of a ten-year-old child.
He had expected secrets.
Dante had already begun telling the truth.
Nico looked toward Enzo’s empty chair.
Then toward Dante.
“You ruined it.”
Dante understood.
“Yes.”
For once, he accepted the accusation proudly.
Then a shot came from the staircase.
Rocco fell.
Everyone turned.
Samuel Reed stood above them.
Weapon raised.
The supposed traitor who supposedly changed sides.
Dante’s face hardened.
Samuel smiled.
“You all keep looking at sons.”
May you like
He raised the gun again.
“You never ask what happened to Enzo’s daughters.”
