Chapter 7
By late afternoon, the hospital had approved Genevieve and Lucia for discharge the following morning if everything remained normal.
Alessandro went home for the first time in almost two days.
The Southampton estate felt wrong when he entered.
Too large.
Too polished.
Too quiet.
He walked through the foyer and realized how many cameras were visible.
One above the front entrance.
One near the stairs.
One facing the corridor.
He had stopped noticing them years ago.
Genevieve had not.
Mateo followed him into the study.
“You want coffee?”
“No.”
“You want to sleep?”
“No.”
“You want me to stop asking?”
“Yes.”
Mateo sat on the edge of the desk.
Alessandro opened the cabinet beneath a bookshelf.
Inside were old family files, photographs, and records.
He pulled out a wooden box.
Nico’s.
Mateo recognized it.
“I thought you threw that away.”
“I said I did.”
“Very healthy.”
Alessandro opened the box.
Inside were postcards.
Photographs.
A broken watch.
A ticket stub from a Yankees game.
And six printed emails.
Mateo looked at them.
“You saved those?”
“All of them.”
“You told everyone you deleted them.”
“I lied.”
“That’s becoming a theme in this family.”
Alessandro ignored him and picked up the final email.
September 14.
Nearly five years ago.
Alessandro,
I hope you are well.
I heard you are getting married.
I hope you are happy.
Do not make the same mistakes with her that we made with each other.
Let people choose you.
Do not make choosing you the price of staying close.
N.
Alessandro sat down.
Mateo read over his shoulder.
“He knew about Genevieve.”
“Apparently.”
“Who told him?”
“I don’t know.”
Mateo picked up another envelope.
“No return addresses?”
“None.”
“Emails?”
“Dead accounts.”
Alessandro stared at the last message.
Do not make the same mistakes with her.
“How much did Nico know?”
Mateo asked.
“I thought nothing.”
“That was obviously wrong.”
Alessandro leaned back.
The house around him seemed different now.
Not dangerous.
Just full of things he had never questioned.
Who had access.
Who reported to whom.
Which decisions had become habits.
How much of his life had been filtered through Vincenzo because Alessandro had always trusted him to know what mattered.
Mateo looked around the study.
“We need to speak to Vincenzo.”
“No.”
Mateo’s eyebrows rose.
“No?”
“Not yet.”
“That may be the smartest thing you’ve said all week.”
“I’m touched.”
Alessandro stood.
“Find Daniel Voss.”
“Quietly?”
“Yes.”
“No dramatic entrances?”
“Yes.”
“No four-car convoy?”
“Mateo.”
“I’m confirming the new rules.”
Alessandro gave him a tired look.
Mateo grinned.
“I’ll find him.”
The next morning, Genevieve left the hospital carrying Lucia in a cream-colored blanket.
Alessandro waited in the lobby.
He had not arranged cars.
He had not brought men.
He had not sent flowers large enough to block a hallway.
One black sedan waited outside.
Mateo drove.
Genevieve noticed immediately.
“That’s it?”
Alessandro looked at the car.
“You said quiet.”
“I did.”
“I listened.”
She studied him.
“You’re making this difficult.”
“What?”
“Being angry.”
He smiled.
“I’ll try to be worse tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
The drive to Brooklyn was quiet.
Lucia slept in a properly installed infant seat that Alessandro had spent forty minutes learning how to secure.
Mateo had secretly filmed part of the process.
Alessandro had threatened to fire him.
May you like
Mateo had reminded him threats were against the new rules.
Genevieve had laughed so hard she had to sit down.
