Chapter 8
Salvatore laughed.
Once.
Dry.
Unbelieving.
The Vescari man looked almost pleased.
“You thought they were backing you?”
Salvatore didn't answer.
“Who?” I asked.
The man looked at me.
“Your uncle's old people.”
My father had one brother.
Dead twelve years.
But men outlive bosses.
Grudges outlive everyone.
I understood.
Katherine did too.
She sat down slowly.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“You know.”
“My husband…”
Marcus turned toward his mother.
“What about Dad?”
Katherine closed her eyes.
Her husband, Enzo, had wanted the D’Angelo seat before me.
He never got it.
Not because I killed him.
Not because I betrayed him.
Because the capos refused him.
Enzo was violent.
Unstable.
Too eager to punish.
He died two years later during a dispute he started himself.
Katherine never forgave the family.
Maybe she never forgave me.
The Vescari man continued.
“Enzo's old loyalists wanted a D’Angelo face they could control.”
Marcus whispered, “Me.”
“No.”
Again.
Marcus had been rejected twice in one night.
The man looked upstairs.
I followed his gaze.
My blood went cold.
“Clara?”
He smiled.
“Eventually.”
Katherine stood.
“No.”
For the first time all night, her horror looked genuine.
“You said she would be sent away.”
Salvatore stared at her.
“You knew they wanted Roman dead and Clara removed.”
“Removed from the house.”
“That's not what they meant.”
Katherine's face collapsed.
There are betrayals you plan.
Then there are betrayals you discover you helped create.
This was hers.
They didn't want Marcus long-term.
They didn't want Salvatore.
They barely wanted Katherine.
They wanted me gone.
My branch weakened.
Clara isolated.
Then, years later, a D’Angelo child raised around the men who had destroyed her father could become whatever symbol they needed.
I looked at Katherine.
“You told my daughter I was dying.”
She said nothing.
“You shoved her from my chair.”
Tears appeared in her eyes.
I felt nothing.
“Because you thought removing her from my side was the first step.”
“I thought Marcus would protect her.”
Marcus looked at his mother as if he had never seen her before.
I laughed quietly.
“You trusted the son who watched you shove a three-year-old.”
That ended whatever defense she had left.
A bodyguard entered.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found something in Salvatore's car.”
He held up a child's winter coat.
Clara's size.
My entire body went still.
Katherine covered her mouth.
Marcus whispered, “No.”
Salvatore looked at the floor.
I stepped toward him.
“What was the coat for?”
Silence.
“What was the coat for?”
He finally answered.
“Making it look like she left with family.”
That was when my restraint ended.
Not because of the poisoning.
Not because of my chair.
Not because of the Vescari crew.
My daughter.
They had planned around my daughter.
I leaned close enough that Salvatore had nowhere else to look.
“You should have killed me first.”
His face tightened.
May you like
“Why?”
“Because now I'm awake.”
