Chapter 6 - The Man Behind the Family Name
I called Cosimo from Miriam's office after Sofia had spoken privately with an attorney of her own.
He answered before the second ring finished.
“Francesca?”
Hearing my name in his voice was an ache I didn't have time for.
“Do not go to that meeting tomorrow.”
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he asked where Sofia was and whether Giulia was safe.
Only then did he ask about Alessio.
“We're preserving what she heard,” I said. “Her attorney is advising her.”
“I need to speak to her.”
“She isn't a witness you can summon.”
A pause.
“You're right. Will she agree to see me with her attorney?”
I asked.
Sofia nodded without looking up.
An hour later, the man everyone said could command a room sat at the end of a plain conference table and waited for permission to ask my sister a question.
She described the conversation.
Her voice shook when she reached Enzo's name.
“Did Alessio ever tell you what happened?” Cosimo asked.
“Not directly. He said your brother was going to ruin everything. I thought he meant business.”
She rubbed her bare ring finger.
“I wanted him to mean business.”
I understood the distinction.
It didn't make it harmless.
Cosimo looked at Miriam.
“What do you recommend?”
She folded her hands.
“Your own criminal counsel should be here. I represent Francesca. Sofia has separate counsel. Our interests overlap, but they aren't identical.”
He made the call.
For two hours, the discussion became careful and difficult. Threats. Records. Exposure. The investigation that should have happened eighteen months earlier.
At one point, Cosimo stood and went into the adjoining room.
I followed after a minute.
He was staring at a photograph on his phone.
Enzo, perhaps ten years younger, holding a dog that appeared deeply offended by the arrangement.
“He wanted out,” Cosimo said.
I waited.
“Not all at once. He was trying to separate the legitimate companies from the rest. Alessio called him weak. I told Enzo he was making enemies faster than he was making progress.”
“What did he say?”
Cosimo put the phone down.
“That progress wasn't much use if everybody was still frightened at the end.”
I sat on the edge of a chair.
“After he died, you stopped trying?”
“I started holding everything tighter.”
He said it without pride.
I thought of the men who stopped speaking when he entered. How easy it was to mistake being obeyed for being safe.
“You could find Alessio yourself,” I said.
His eyes met mine.
“Yes.”
“You could make him tell you what happened.”
“Possibly.”
“And then?”
He looked toward the closed conference-room door.
“I don't know.”
I believed that answer more than I would have believed a promise made quickly to please me.
“I won't help you turn another set of records into another funeral.”
“I know.”
“And if you cooperate, it can't be only the pages that make you look like a victim.”
The silence lengthened.
He understood exactly what I meant.
Cosimo Ferraro hadn't become feared by collecting antique furniture.
He had benefited from threats, illegal debts, and people understanding that refusal could cost them more than money. Grieving his brother did not erase those people.
“There will be consequences,” he said.
“For me, too.”
He sat across from me.
“You shouldn't have to pay for something you didn't do.”
“Then help prove what I didn't do. I still have to answer for what I did.”
His expression changed slowly.
I couldn't tell whether it was admiration or the beginning of grief for a life he had thought he could keep.
“You make it difficult to hide behind good intentions,” he said.
“I've been trying to stop doing it myself.”
When we returned to the conference room, he asked his attorney to arrange contact with federal investigators already examining related businesses.
He also canceled the private Syndicate review.
The cancellation went out without an accusation. It didn't mean Alessio would stop being dangerous. It meant Cosimo wouldn't walk into a room simply because pride made absence feel impossible.
By evening, Miriam had arranged an initial meeting for the following day.
There were no promises of immunity. No convenient agreement that everyone we liked could walk away.
There was a process.
I had spent years managing uncertainty by pretending I could control every variable.
Agreeing to a process felt frighteningly close to letting go.
At dusk, Cosimo walked me to the hotel entrance.
“I owe you an apology,” he said.
“You already said you should have told me.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
I waited.
“You had just been humiliated by people you trusted. I knew something that affected your choices, and I withheld it. Being attracted to you doesn't make that better.”
The words hurt less because he wasn't asking me to rescue him from them.
“Thank you for saying it.”
“I don't expect you to decide anything tonight.”
I looked at the street beyond him.
“Good. I barely decided what to eat.”
He smiled faintly.
We stood there without touching.
For the first time, the space between us didn't feel like something either of us needed to conquer.
Inside, Sofia sat beside the hotel window speaking to her attorney.
Giulia's backpack lay on the bed.
I checked the bathroom. The hall.
“Where's Giulia?”
Sofia covered her phone.
“She went downstairs. Someone said you sent a driver to take her to sign her housing forms.”
I went cold.
“When?”
“Maybe twenty minutes ago.”
My phone vibrated before I could dial.
FATHER.
I answered.
“You wanted to discuss the family records,” he said.
“Where is she?”
“With me. Where my daughters belong.”
May you like
Behind his voice, I heard Giulia say my name.
Then the line went quiet.
