Chapter 10
Ryan finally told me why he believed I wouldn’t return.
Not dead.
Delayed.
Captured.
Something in between.
Vivian had arranged it.
My business trip involved negotiating with the Armitage crew two states away.
On day nine, one vehicle failed to show.
On day ten, my secure phone lost service for four hours.
On day eleven, a driver I trusted tried to redirect me to an isolated property.
I had sensed enough to come home early.
Ryan had known about every disruption.
“You planned that?”
He shook his head.
“Mother did.”
Vivian scoffed.
“I arranged delays.”
Victor laughed.
“Always a softer word.”
She glared.
“I needed time.”
“For what?”
“To stabilize the house.”
I looked at Margaret’s bruises.
“This?”
“She resisted.”
“To starving children?”
“To change.”
There.
Vivian believed herself.
That made her worse.
Ryan sat on the floor beside the ruined cart.
“I thought Claire would be gone another week.”
My jaw tightened.
“What happens after a week?”
He looked at Vivian.
She said nothing.
“Ryan.”
His voice dropped.
“Dinner with the old capos.”
“We know.”
“Then a statement.”
“About me needing rest.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Silence.
Victor answered:
“Then they separate Claire from the house.”
I looked at him.
“How?”
“Internal vote.”
Not legal.
Not paperwork.
Mafia consensus.
Enough senior men stop taking your calls and suddenly authority becomes memory.
Ryan stared at the floor.
“I was supposed to lead temporarily.”
Vivian smiled bitterly.
“You were supposed to hold the chair.”
“For how long?”
She said nothing.
He looked at her.
“How long?”
Victor answered:
“Until she didn’t need him.”
Ryan’s face changed.
Vivian snapped:
“Don’t listen to him.”
But he already was.
I watched another betrayal unfold inside the betrayal.
Vivian had not wanted Ryan powerful.
She wanted him positioned.
Useful.
Obedient.
Replaceable.
I looked at my husband.
“You hit me because you thought you were already boss.”
He looked away.
“No.”
“You ordered me into the kitchen.”
Silence.
“Why?”
His jaw tightened.
“Because Mother said if you came back early, we had to make you submit in front of the staff.”
My blood went cold.
The slap had not been anger.
May you like
It had been a demonstration.
A rehearsal for power.
