Chapter 3 - The Night Our Families Began Destroying Each Other
Nico did not answer immediately.
That was a mistake.
After years of living with my father, I had learned silence was often where the truth hid.
“Nico.”
He looked toward Sal.
That made me angrier.
“Do not look at him.”
His eyes returned to mine.
“You knew.”
“I knew my father was there.”
My stomach tightened.
“And you married me without telling me.”
“I didn’t know who your mother was.”
“But you knew Romano.”
“Yes.”
“Then when my father said her name—”
“I realized.”
I stared.
“How much do you know about Carlo Romano’s murder?”
“Not enough.”
“That sounds convenient.”
“It’s the truth.”
My father laughed from the chair.
“You see? Ferraras lie better because they call omission loyalty.”
Nico turned.
“Sal, get him out of here.”
“No.”
Everyone looked at me.
I pointed at my father.
“He stays.”
Nico’s jaw tightened.
“This conversation involves—”
“My family.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Then he nodded.
My father looked almost disappointed.
He had wanted us divided.
That told me something.
I sat again.
“Start at the beginning.”
Nico leaned against the desk.
“My father was Antonio Ferrara.”
I knew that name too.
Antonio had been killed when Nico was twenty.
Officially, heart attack.
Unofficially, every newspaper hinted at mob conflict.
“He worked with Carlo Romano?”
“Sometimes.”
“Friends?”
“No.”
“Enemies?”
“Sometimes.”
“That isn’t helpful.”
A faint expression crossed Nico’s face.
Under other circumstances, it might have been amusement.
“The old families were rarely only one thing.”
He explained.
Carlo Romano controlled shipping routes and union relationships.
Antonio Ferrara controlled trucking and several construction suppliers.
They competed.
They cooperated.
They threatened each other.
They attended the same weddings.
They also shared a common enemy.
Victor Barone.
The name meant nothing to me.
It meant something to my father.
Edmund’s face tightened.
I noticed.
“So who was Barone?” I asked.
Nico answered.
“Carlo’s consigliere.”
“Advisor?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He wanted Carlo’s organization.”
My father looked away.
Nico saw it too.
“You know more.”
Edmund said nothing.
I leaned forward.
“Dad.”
His eyes flicked toward me.
I hated calling him that.
But the word still controlled some primitive part of both of us.
“Tell me.”
“Victor Barone was obsessed with your mother.”
The room went still.
I stared.
“What?”
“She was eighteen when it started.”
Nico’s face hardened.
“How old was Barone?”
“Forty.”
Disgust moved through me.
“He wanted to marry her?”
“He wanted to own her.”
I almost laughed at the symmetry.
My family history apparently contained generations of men confusing possession with love.
“Carlo refused.”
My father continued.
“Victor never forgave him.”
“Did Victor kill my grandfather?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop saying that.”
“I truly don’t.”
Nico crossed his arms.
“Antonio was driving behind Carlo the night he died.”
My attention snapped toward him.
“Why?”
“They were leaving a meeting.”
“With Victor?”
“Yes.”
My father cursed.
Nico looked at him.
“You knew?”
“Evelyn suspected.”
Everything became quiet.
Nico continued.
“Carlo’s car exploded on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway.”
My chest tightened.
“Explosion?”
“Yes.”
“The public story said shooting.”
“That was deliberate.”
“Why?”
“To hide the bomb.”
“Who arranged it?”
“Antonio always believed Victor.”
“And your father?”
“Survived.”
“Was he questioned?”
“Yes.”
“Did he cooperate?”
Nico’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
Of course not.
Loyalty.
Silence.
Secrets.
My entire life existed because men preferred codes to truth.
“He could have helped solve it.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“Because he was involved in criminal business with Carlo, and cooperating would have exposed both organizations.”
I laughed bitterly.
“So everyone protected themselves, and my grandfather’s killer walked away.”
“Yes.”
Nico did not soften it.
I appreciated that.
My father shifted.
“Victor didn’t walk away.”
We looked at him.
“What happened?”
“He disappeared.”
“When?”
“Two months later.”
“Dead?”
“We assumed.”
Nico looked thoughtful.
Sal spoke for the first time.
“If Barone is alive, he’d be seventy-one.”
My skin prickled.
“The caller?”
My father shook his head.
“That was not Victor.”
“You recognized the voice?”
“No.”
“But?”
“Your uncle, Luca Romano, would be fifty-eight now.”
“Is he the one who called?”
“I think so.”
“Why are you afraid of him?”
My father’s eyes sharpened.
“I’m not.”
I stood.
He flinched.
That tiny movement shocked me.
My father was afraid of me now because I stood beside people he could not control.
I disliked the feeling.
Power built from fear looked too much like him.
So I sat again.
“Did Luca know what you did to my mother?”
Silence.
That was answer enough.
Nico’s gaze became deadly.
“What did you do to Evelyn?”
My father looked at me.
“Nora.”
“Answer.”
“She discovered I had used her trust as collateral.”
My heart sank.
“What?”
“I needed capital for Ashford.”
“You stole from her.”
“I borrowed against assets.”
“Without permission.”
“She signed.”
“Did she understand?”
He went quiet.
Nico said, “That means no.”
My father glared at him.
“She trusted me.”
The sentence almost made me laugh.
Trust.
Always weaponized after the fact.
“When did she find out?”
“Eleven years ago.”
“The year she died.”
“Yes.”
“She contacted Luca.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He came to New York.”
My pulse quickened.
“I met him.”
“Where?”
“Connecticut.”
“Why?”
“He wanted Evelyn and you removed from the country.”
“Why?”
“He believed Victor Barone was alive.”
The room went still again.
“And looking for my mother?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because of the Romano reserve.”
Nico frowned.
“Barone couldn’t access it without a Romano heir.”
My father nodded.
“The trust required bloodline authorization.”
I almost laughed.
“So everyone wanted my mother because of money.”
“No,” my father said.
I looked at him.
His eyes filled again.
“I wanted her because I loved her.”
The words made something inside me snap.
I stood so quickly the chair hit the floor.
“Do not say that.”
“Nora—”
“You beat her?”
“No.”
“You controlled her money.”
“I was trying to protect—”
“You isolated her.”
“She was in danger.”
“You lied to her daughter.”
“I had to.”
“You beat me.”
He flinched.
Finally.
“You broke my ribs when I was nineteen because I tried to leave.”
His face went white.
Nico became completely still.
Sal looked at my father as though calculating where to bury him.
I continued.
“You burned me when I was twenty-one because I called an attorney.”
“Nora.”
“You pushed me down the stairs after Mother’s funeral because I said I hated you.”
Tears came.
I hated that.
Not because crying was weakness.
Because I did not want my father to possess another emotional reaction from me.
“You do not know what love is.”
He lowered his head.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Nico quietly picked up the fallen chair.
He did not touch me.
Just placed it behind me.
I sat.
My hands shook.
“Tell me how she died.”
My father looked broken.
Good.
“Evelyn confronted me.”
“When?”
“Two days before.”
“About the trust?”
“Yes.”
“She wanted to leave.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She said Luca had arranged passports.”
“For us?”
“Yes.”
My breath caught.
My mother was going to save me.
She had tried.
That knowledge hurt more than believing she never knew.
“What happened the night she died?”
“She went to meet Luca.”
“Where?”
“A hotel near JFK.”
“Did she reach him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“She collapsed in the car.”
“You were there?”
“My driver was.”
“What driver?”
“Thomas Kell.”
I knew Thomas.
He worked for my father until I was eighteen.
Then disappeared.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Convenient.”
“I swear.”
Nico said, “We’ll find him.”
The certainty in his voice frightened and comforted me.
My father continued.
“Evelyn was taken to a private hospital.”
“Which one?”
“St. Matthew’s.”
I frowned.
It closed years ago.
“Her death certificate says Lenox Hill.”
My father looked away.
Another lie.
“What happened at St. Matthew’s?”
“She was unconscious.”
“Cause?”
“Cerebral hemorrhage.”
“Who diagnosed it?”
Silence.
Nico’s expression changed.
“Who?”
My father whispered, “Dr. Victor Barone.”
The room went dead.
I stared at him.
“Victor was a doctor?”
“Surgeon before he joined Carlo’s organization.”
Nico swore.
“So he was alive.”
“Yes.”
“You knew.”
“For one night.”
“What happened?”
“He told me Evelyn would die.”
My hands became cold.
“And?”
“I believed him.”
“You left her with the man who might have killed her father?”
My father started crying.
“I was terrified.”
“Of him?”
“Yes.”
“Or of losing the money?”
He did not answer.
That was worse.
“Did he kill her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he poison her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you let him?”
My father looked at me.
And said nothing.
That silence destroyed whatever remained between us.
I stood.
“I’m done.”
“Nora.”
“Do not call me.”
“Nora, please.”
I walked toward the door.
He stood.
Nico’s men blocked him.
My father shouted.
“I came back for you!”
I turned.
“No. You came back because someone threatened you.”
“I came because I realized what I had done.”
“No.”
“You’re my daughter.”
“That stopped mattering every time you decided pain was an acceptable way to control me.”
His face collapsed.
For one second, he looked like a father.
Not mine.
Just some old man realizing consequences existed.
I left.
Nico followed only after I reached the hallway.
“Nora.”
I kept walking.
He did not touch me.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s fine.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“You don’t need to know.”
I turned.
He stood several feet away.
“You can sleep in another room.”
I stared.
“You can leave the estate if you want.”
“Can I?”
“Yes.”
“Armed guards brought me here.”
“I know.”
“You married me without consent.”
“I know.”
“You told me to undress.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know.”
“And now I can leave?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if you stay because you’re afraid of me, then your father was right about one thing.”
“What?”
“That I’m no different.”
I studied him.
“Are you?”
His eyes held mine.
“I have done things you would hate.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
He exhaled.
“I am not your father.”
I thought about it.
“That doesn’t automatically make you good.”
“No.”
Another honest answer.
“Where would I go?”
“Anywhere.”
“I have no phone safe from my father. No account he can’t monitor.”
“I can give you money.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“Then let Sofia help you establish your own.”
My throat tightened.
Own.
A dangerous word.
A beautiful one.
“Why?”
He looked toward the study where my father remained.
“Because your mother tried to get you out once.”
His voice softened.
“Someone should finish what she started.”
I almost cried again.
Instead, I said, “I’m staying tonight.”
Nico nodded.
“Your room?”
“My room.”
“Not yours?”
“No.”
He led me to a guest suite across the hall.
He stopped at the doorway.
“The lock works from inside.”
I looked at him.
“You’re telling me that deliberately.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you checked mine.”
I had.
Of course he noticed.
He stepped back.
“Good night, Nora.”
“Nico.”
He stopped.
“If we’re legally married…”
“Yes?”
“What happens tomorrow?”
His expression became complicated.
“Tomorrow we figure out how to undo what I did.”
I stared.
“You’ll divorce me?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“And my father?”
“Not your problem.”
“My mother?”
His eyes hardened.
“That one is.”
Before I could answer, Sal appeared at the far end of the hall.
“Boss.”
Nico turned.
“What?”
“We found Thomas Kell.”
My heart jumped.
Nico looked at me.
“Alive?”
Sal nodded.
“But there’s a problem.”
“What?”
“He says he won’t talk to anyone except Nora.”
I stepped into the hallway.
“Where is he?”
Sal’s expression made my stomach tighten.
“Bellevue.”
May you like
“Why?”
“He was stabbed two hours ago.”
