Chapter 6
The black notebook implicated six men.
Anthony was dead.
Two had retired.
Three still worked under me.
I summoned them before dawn.
Not because I cared most about the old routes.
Because I needed to understand how many people knew Mark had become dangerous at home.
One man, Peter Sloan, admitted Anna spoke to him.
“What did she say?”
“That Mark was changing.”
“How?”
“He was obsessed with proving he could run things without you.”
I looked toward my son.
Mark sat without his family pin.
I had removed it.
Peter continued.
“Anthony kept telling him he’d always be Richard’s boy until he built something Richard didn’t control.”
There.
Pride.
Simple enough to ruin families for centuries.
“What did Anna do?”
“She told Mark to stop.”
“And?”
“He accused her of making him weak.”
Of course.
“What did you do?”
Peter looked ashamed.
“Nothing.”
Honest.
“Why?”
“Because it was marriage.”
I almost smiled.
That phrase.
A magical wall adults hide behind when they do not want responsibility.
“It stopped being private when he used my lodge.”
Peter nodded.
“Yes.”
“And when did you know Noah was being punished?”
He looked surprised.
“I didn’t.”
I watched.
Truth.
The others agreed.
Good.
At least the rot had not spread that far.
Then one retired capo, Harold Vane, spoke.
“I knew Mark was searching Anna’s things.”
My jaw tightened.
“How?”
“He asked me whether children remember places from age two.”
The room went silent.
“You didn’t find that strange?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“He said Anna hid sentimental things.”
Again.
Small lie.
Enough truth.
Harold looked toward Noah’s empty chair near the fireplace.
“I should have asked more.”
“Yes.”
No comfort.
Not cruelty.
Precision.
People often want regret to erase consequence immediately.
It does not.
I looked at every man.
“The unauthorized routes close permanently.”
Nobody objected.
“Mark has no command.”
His jaw tightened.
Still nothing.
“And if any man in this family sees a child being used to solve an adult problem and calls it private again—”
I paused.
May you like
They understood.
That rule mattered more than any route Anthony built.
