Chapter 6
The gala had been a vote without ballots.
That was Garrett’s plan.
Humiliate Miriam.
Watch me choose.
If I defended him—or even hesitated—the old captains would read it as acceptance.
If I defended my mother privately but protected the marriage publicly, Garrett still won.
Only one response ruined it.
What I had done.
Break the marriage in front of the same audience.
Garrett knew it.
That was why the ring shocked him more than the punch.
“You didn’t think I would throw it away.”
He stared at me.
“No.”
Honest.
Finally.
“Why?”
His answer took too long.
“Because you love me.”
I nodded.
“I did.”
His face changed.
Past tense.
Good.
Then he said:
“You think love disappears because I made one mistake?”
Miriam stiffened.
I looked at the fountain behind him.
“One?”
Garrett sighed.
“There it is. Your mother turns everything into betrayal.”
My mother said nothing.
I noticed.
Months ago, maybe I would have expected her to defend herself.
Tonight she let his words sit where they belonged.
Garrett continued.
“She never wanted me here.”
Miriam finally answered.
“I wanted my daughter happy.”
“You never respected me.”
“I respected what she chose.”
“That is not the same.”
“No.”
My mother looked at him.
“It isn’t.”
That silenced him.
She had accepted the distinction instead of soothing him.
I almost smiled.
Evelyn looked furious.
“You both act as though Garrett entered this family begging.”
I turned.
“He did not.”
Garrett frowned.
I continued.
“He entered because I opened the door.”
Silence.
“That was my choice.”
I looked toward the capos.
“Which means anyone who treated my marriage as a transfer of authority turned my choice into something else.”
Vale nodded slowly.
Russo looked ashamed.
Mercer still did not.
I noticed.
“What?”
He met my eyes.
“Some of us believed the organization needed balance.”
“Meaning?”
“A man beside you.”
“There were hundreds.”
He frowned.
“Not like that.”
“Then say it clearly.”
His jaw tightened.
“A male head.”
Miriam exhaled.
I leaned back.
Finally.
Not all conspiracies are hidden secrets.
Sometimes they are beliefs people are too polite to admit until pressure removes manners.
I looked at Mercer.
“Then your problem was never Garrett.”
His face changed.
“It was me.”
He said nothing.
May you like
Good.
Now the room was honest enough to become useful.
