Chapter 8
Daniel wanted Dominic dead.
He did not say it immediately.
He stared at the notebooks for almost a minute before whispering:
“I want him gone.”
I understood.
I did not agree.
Not yet.
Dominic looked at me as if blood would protect him.
That irritated me more than Daniel’s anger.
“My father was your uncle.”
“Yes.”
“I’m your nephew.”
“Yes.”
He waited.
That was the entire argument.
Blood.
I remembered Sofia.
Victor.
The photo.
The sentence on the back.
They think Rocco never looks down.
I walked toward Dominic.
“My sister was your aunt.”
His face changed.
“Elise was somebody’s wife.”
Silence.
“Maeve is somebody’s daughter.”
I gestured toward the notebooks.
“All these people belong to somebody.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“So what? You’re going to throw away family for bakers?”
There it was.
I almost thanked him.
Because no explanation could expose him more clearly than that sentence.
Daniel started forward.
I stopped him.
Then I looked at Dominic.
“No.”
I spoke slowly.
“I’m throwing away the version of family that taught you everyone outside our blood is disposable.”
He stared.
“You built this organization.”
“Yes.”
“On what? Charity?”
“No.”
I did not pretend Castellano power was clean.
That would be insulting.
“We use fear. We control territory. We punish betrayal.”
I stepped closer.
“But if our name means every weak person beneath us becomes available for theft, then we are not powerful.”
I looked at the books.
“We are parasites.”
Antonio said nothing.
That was how I knew the word landed.
Dominic scoffed.
“You sound like Sofia.”
Good.
I wanted to.
Then Daniel turned another page.
A list of six businesses marked for acquisition.
The bakery was first.
Below them was a final note in Dominic’s handwriting.
CLEAR BLOCK BEFORE NEW YEAR.
This was bigger than one bakery.
May you like
Dominic planned to force six families out and rebuild the entire corner under a Castellano club expansion he never told me about.
And apparently he believed using my name meant I had already approved it.
