Chapter 12
I called the senior Rizzano capos together.
Not to discuss Bianca.
To discuss the alliance.
The marriage would have joined Moretti access to several Rizzano properties, ceremonies, and household channels.
After what I had seen, those privileges were gone.
One capo frowned.
“Over a domestic incident?”
I looked at him.
“Say that again.”
He did not.
Good.
Another man asked:
“Does Moretti remain allied?”
“Business where useful.”
“And family?”
“No.”
Simple.
One older capo looked uncomfortable.
“You’re changing years of planning.”
“Yes.”
“Because of your daughter.”
“Yes.”
He expected me to defend that.
I did not.
Finally he said:
“People will call it emotional.”
I almost smiled.
“Let them.”
Silence.
“My daughter is three.”
I leaned forward.
“If protecting her makes my judgment emotional, then everyone in this room should pray I remain emotional.”
Nobody argued.
That was the distinction Bianca never understood.
Love could influence power without corrupting it.
Sometimes love clarified what power was for.
After the meeting, my lieutenant stayed behind.
“You knew some men would disagree.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t care.”
“No.”
He smiled faintly.
“Sofia would’ve enjoyed that.”
My chest tightened.
Maybe.
I looked toward the garden where Livia was playing with Rosalie.
Sofia had once told me I was too obsessed with appearing impossible to influence.
She said one day our daughter would teach me embarrassment was survivable.
I laughed at the memory.
She had been right.
May you like
Canceling a wedding in front of two families was embarrassing.
Watching Livia hide from clippers would have been worse.
