Chapter 2
Nobody left the ballroom.
I did not ask them to stay.
They understood leaving would only make them look afraid of whatever came next.
Elena sat in our old library on the recording. She looked tired but composed, one hand resting over the same childhood dress Vivia was wearing now.
“This dress was mine when I was little,” she said. “Someday I want Vivia to have it. If things go wrong, I want her to keep it close.”
I looked at my daughter.
She pressed herself harder against my leg.
Elena continued.
“Marcella has been meeting with men Nico removed from command. She says he has weakened Bellandi by making every decision depend on one boss.”
Marcella laughed nervously.
“Elena hated me. You know that.”
I did not look at her.
On-screen, Elena shook her head as if she could somehow hear the excuse.
“She’ll say I’m jealous of her. I’m not. Marcella is building something around Nico because she knows she cannot build it over him.”
A photograph appeared on the screen.
Marcella seated at a private table with four older Bellandi associates.
Men I knew.
Two had been removed after refusing to stop using family members as leverage against rival crews.
One had supposedly retired.
The fourth was standing inside my ballroom right now.
He lowered his eyes.
Rafe noticed.
So did I.
Elena said Marcella called the group the White Table.
Not because of anything mystical.
Because they always met beneath the white stone pavilion on the east estate.
Their goal was simple.
Restore an inner council.
Control certain crews without my approval.
Use family marriages to bind outside groups to them.
Then slowly make my authority ceremonial.
I looked toward the wedding decorations.
Marcella was marrying Adrian Cross tonight, the heir to a smaller but strategically useful allied family.
Suddenly the wedding did not look romantic.
It looked structural.
Elena continued.
“Marcella told me she would eventually marry into enough power that Nico would have to share control whether he wanted to or not.”
Marcella’s face hardened.
“She was exaggerating.”
I finally looked at her.
“Are you marrying Adrian because you love him?”
Her silence lasted too long.
Vivia whispered:
“Daddy?”
I looked down.
She was frightened.
That mattered more than my anger.
I handed the laptop to Rafe.
“Take Vivia into the side room. Stay with her.”
Vivia shook her head.
“No.”
I crouched.
“Why?”
She looked at Marcella.
“Mom said don’t let them take the dress.”
The room went silent again.
My daughter did not understand the conspiracy.
May you like
She understood her mother had given her one job.
And Marcella had just tried to tear it away.
