Chapter 4
Camilla carried the ring because she believed nobody noticed children watching adults.
That mistake kept repeating in my family.
Rafe retrieved her handbag from the ballroom.
Inside was a black signet ring.
No initial.
Only the Valenti crest cut through by one diagonal line.
The leader.
I placed it beside the other six.
“So Father knew.”
Camilla stared at them.
“He knew part.”
“What part?”
“The original table.”
My father discovered it during his final year.
Marco had persuaded six older captains that my eventual leadership would be too centralized.
Too modern.
Too unwilling to preserve older methods.
I was twenty-two.
Still learning how to enter a room without everyone comparing me to my father.
Apparently people were already planning how to control me afterward.
“What did the second table want?”
Camilla gave me the polished answer.
“Balance.”
I almost smiled.
“That word usually means somebody wants authority without accountability.”
Her eyes flashed.
“You were young.”
“So were you.”
“I understood the family.”
“And I didn’t?”
“You understood power.”
She pointed toward the chapel doors.
“You never understood continuity.”
There it was.
The old accusation.
I closed debt collection that targeted widows.
Stopped captains from using children as leverage.
Removed men who called cruelty discipline.
Camilla considered every change an attack on tradition.
Marco gave her structure.
Six captains gave her reach.
“What did Father do when he found out?”
“He threatened to expose us.”
“Then?”
Camilla looked down.
“He got sicker.”
Convenient.
My father died four months later.
Not suspiciously.
Cancer took him slowly and visibly.
I would not invent murder because betrayal made every old death look tempting.
“What happened to the table?”
“We stopped.”
Rafe laughed from behind me.
Camilla glared.
I looked at the rings.
“No.”
I touched hers.
“You hid it.”
That was different.
Then I opened the lower cabinet compartment.
A small tape recorder sat inside.
My father’s handwriting marked one cassette:
FOR MY SON — IF THEY WAIT ME OUT.
Camilla closed her eyes.
He had known.
Not simply that the second table existed.
That they intended to survive him.
I pressed play.
My father’s voice came through weak but unmistakable.
“Domenico, if you’re hearing this, Camilla chose patience over loyalty.”
Camilla started crying.
I listened.
“Marco thinks time will make you easier to control.”
My father paused.
“He’s wrong.”
Another pause.
“But Camilla knows your weakness better.”
My eyes went to Livia.
May you like
Then my father said:
“One day, it will be your child.”
