Chapter 5
Leo told me the rest himself.
I sat with him on the back steps after everyone else was removed from the guesthouse.
He did not look at me.
That hurt more than anything Javier had said.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the pantry?”
He shrugged.
“Uncle Javier said you’d think I was a baby.”
I closed my eyes for one second.
There it was.
Shame.
The cheapest leash adults use on boys.
“What did you think?”
“That maybe he was right.”
I looked at him.
“Leo.”
He finally met my eyes.
“Being afraid does not make you weak.”
“He said Romano men aren’t scared.”
I almost laughed.
“Romano men are terrified constantly.”
He frowned.
Good.
Honesty confused him enough to listen.
“We just learn what to do while we’re scared.”
Mia sat beside him.
“He told me girls cry too much.”
I turned.
“What did he do to you?”
She looked at her sandals.
“Nothing big.”
Again.
That phrase.
“Tell me anyway.”
“He made me stand outside the library door when the men were yelling.”
“Why?”
“So I’d learn not to cover my ears.”
My hands tightened.
This was not one angry cousin.
This was conditioning.
Javier had been training my children according to a dead uncle’s rules while I thought family gatherings meant they were surrounded by people I trusted.
Mia added, “Aunt Clara gave me headphones after.”
I looked at Clara through the window.
Different guilt.
She helped.
Then softened the damage afterward.
That did not make her innocent.
But it made the marriage clearer.
Javier hurt.
Clara repaired just enough to keep everyone quiet.
I knew families built like that.
Too many.
Leo leaned toward me.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you mad I didn’t tell you?”
That question broke something.
“No.”
“Really?”
“I’m mad someone convinced you telling me would make me respect you less.”
He looked down.
Then nodded.
I put one hand on the back of his neck.
“Next time you tell me before you try to be strong alone.”
He leaned against me.
Mia did too.
For several minutes, I was not the head of Romano.
Just their father.
Then one of my guards approached.
He waited until the children went inside.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found another map.”
I stood.
“Where?”
“Javier’s garage.”
He hesitated.
“It’s not crews.”
“What is it?”
He handed me a photograph.
Schools.
Playgrounds.
Family homes.
Places my children spent time.
May you like
The faction had not simply been watching my leadership.
It had been mapping my children.
