Chapter 9
Matteo Leone arrived before dark.
He listened to the medication timeline without interrupting.
Then I told him Lucia knew South Harbor had been probing our routes before the attack.
His face changed.
That was enough.
“You knew too.”
“No.”
“Matteo.”
He exhaled.
“I knew someone was testing outer security. I did not know it connected to your route.”
“Who gave you the information?”
He looked at Lucia.
Of course.
“She said not to escalate it.”
“Why?”
“She said the crews involved were probably trying to provoke overreaction.”
I looked at her.
“So you suppressed it twice.”
Lucia crossed her arms.
“I used judgment.”
“No.”
Matteo surprised me by answering.
“You used access.”
She turned.
He continued. “You were the family member everyone assumed was helping him. That gave you room to decide what reached him.”
That sentence described the entire conspiracy.
Medication.
Staff.
Security warnings.
Capo concerns.
Lucia did not need to control the organization.
She controlled the doorway to me.
Grant smiled bitterly.
“That’s what you never understood, Rocco. Nobody needed to take your chair while you were sitting in it.”
I looked at him.
“What did you need?”
“People to stop reaching you directly.”
There it was.
If captains came through Lucia, staff came through Lucia, doctors came through Lucia, and even security warnings were filtered through Lucia, then the wheelchair became more than mobility equipment.
It became architecture.
I had allowed the house to reorganize around my injury.
And Lucia placed herself at every entrance.
I looked at Edwin.
“How many people have been told not to bother me?”
His face tightened.
“A lot.”
“How many because I asked?”
He did not answer.
That was answer enough.
The medication bottle had exposed sabotage.
But the deeper plan was isolation.
May you like
Not from family.
From command.
