Chapter 8
Luca sat down.
Nobody asked him to.
His knees seemed to decide for him.
Giulietta watched.
“What is on that list?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“I don't know.”
She waited.
He looked up.
“I know my name is.”
Silence.
Warren smiled faintly.
Preston looked surprised.
Giulietta did not move.
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
“How much?”
“Three hundred thousand.”
Her eyes hardened.
Luca's voice became rough.
“My wife was sick.”
Giulietta knew.
Pancreatic cancer.
Eighteen months.
Gone within two years.
“I took money from a reserve account.”
“Without authorization.”
“Yes.”
“Did my father know?”
Luca’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
That surprised her.
“He never told me.”
“He made me repay it.”
“Then why is your name on a hidden list?”
Luca looked toward the floor.
“Insurance.”
Her breathing slowed.
Her father had kept records of private disloyalty.
Not always to punish.
To control.
That truth hurt.
Marcello knew the archive existed.
He wanted the list because several current capos might be compromised by old mistakes.
If he controlled their secrets, he controlled votes.
The marriage was not simply about transferring power to Preston.
It was about giving Marcello time to seize internal loyalty.
Giulietta looked toward the corridor where her capos waited.
How many names?
How many men had old sins her father preserved like weapons?
Warren leaned back.
“Now you understand why your uncle needed you distracted.”
Giulietta turned.
“And you helped him.”
“He promised us port access.”
There.
Finally.
Warren's motive beyond marriage.
The Hale family had lost two major shipping contracts.
Their logistics network was shrinking.
Marconi port access would restore them.
Preston married Giulietta.
Marcello controlled compromised capos.
Warren gained routes.
Everyone won.
Except Giulietta.
She looked at Preston.
“And you?”
His jaw tightened.
“What did you get?”
He did not answer.
Warren did.
“Respect.”
Preston’s face darkened.
Giulietta saw the wound.
He had agreed because he believed marrying Giulietta would make him powerful enough that his father finally stopped treating him like a disappointing son.
Preston looked at Warren.
“You couldn't let me answer?”
Warren said nothing.
Another silence that had shaped a man.
Then Giulietta’s security chief returned with an emergency report from Marconi headquarters.
Someone had entered the archive room twenty minutes earlier.
Using Preston’s key card.
Preston went pale.
“I’m here.”
Giulietta looked at the timestamp.
The card had been cloned.
Whoever entered knew the wedding confrontation was happening.
And they were using the chaos exactly as planned.
One archive drawer had been opened.
The file removed:
May you like
PRIVATE DISCIPLINARY LEDGER — CAPOS.
Marcello now had the list.
