Chapter 6
Celina denied it for exactly thirty seconds.
Then Lucille corrected her.
That was interesting.
We met in the old garden library.
No audience.
No children.
I asked:
“Were you promised control of household events?”
Celina said no.
Lucille said:
“Don’t be cowardly.”
Celina turned toward her.
The betrayal happened instantly.
“You said nobody would know yet.”
There.
I leaned back.
“Thank you.”
Celina realized too late.
Lucille did not care.
She had moved beyond secrecy.
Older people sometimes mistake exposure for freedom because they assume age still protects them from consequence.
Lucille explained.
Celina would supervise family banquets, household rituals, youth instruction, and donor receptions.
Everything I had kept separate from formal command.
Soft power.
The part of Mafia families most men underestimate until they realize who controls access.
“What does Emmett have to do with that?”
Lucille answered.
“He needs structure.”
“From Celina.”
“Yes.”
I looked at my cousin.
She tried to sound reasonable.
“You’re rarely present at daytime events.”
“I work.”
“Exactly.”
“And therefore?”
“He needs a family woman shaping him.”
I almost laughed.
“His father is family.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“I know exactly what you mean. You just don’t like hearing it without decoration.”
Celina’s face hardened.
She wanted a permanent role near my son.
Not because she loved him.
Because proximity to Emmett meant relevance to succession.
Lucille had sold her that future.
Then I asked the question neither expected.
“What happens when Emmett stops listening to you?”
Celina stared.
“Children adapt.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Silence.
“What happens?”
Lucille answered.
“He learns consequences.”
There.
Food.
Seating.
Approval.
Access.
The same tools used in the First Plate.
I looked at Celina.
“You thought today was the beginning of raising him.”
Her face changed.
Yes.
She had not only humiliated Emmett.
She had been practicing authority.
Then Lucille smiled faintly.
“You think you can raise a Montaro heir like an ordinary child.”
“No.”
I stood.
May you like
“I think I can raise my son like a human being before everyone starts calling him an heir.”
That was the line between us.
