Chapter 4
The Rourkes had history with Arthur.
Old history.
Before DeLuca formally existed, Arthur built his first crews with a man named Sebastian Rourke.
Camille and Declan’s grandfather.
I knew the name.
I had never heard the full story.
Arthur told it that night.
“We were boys with bad judgment and expensive ambitions.”
Sebastian handled docks.
Arthur handled collections.
Together they built something profitable enough that men started calling it an organization.
Then Sebastian crossed a line.
Not against Arthur.
Against families under them.
He began charging widows of dead associates for “continued protection.”
Then relatives.
Then children who inherited small businesses.
Arthur ordered it stopped.
Sebastian refused.
The partnership ended violently in reputation, not blood.
Arthur kept the DeLuca name.
Sebastian left with a handful of men and spent the rest of his life saying Arthur stole an empire they built together.
Anthony Rourke grew up with that story.
So did Declan.
So did Camille.
I looked at my father.
“Why didn’t I know?”
Arthur looked ashamed.
“Because I preferred the version where I built everything myself.”
At least he admitted it.
Sebastian had contributed.
Then became dangerous.
Both truths.
Arthur erased the first to make the second easier.
That gave the Rourkes a grievance they could romanticize.
Declan turned that grievance into strategy.
Restore Rourke through marriage.
Not under their own name.
Through Luca.
If my son took the Founder’s Chair with Camille beside him, Anthony could claim the old partnership had finally been restored.
Half DeLuca.
Half Rourke.
A historical correction.
Completely invented.
Luca stared at Camille.
“You knew this?”
She swallowed.
“Our families should have been equal.”
Wrong answer.
“You told me this was about us.”
“It was.”
“Was?”
Camille’s face tightened.
“I love you.”
Maybe.
Love and ambition coexist more often than people like admitting.
Then Declan laughed from the wrecked cake cart.
“You think she used you?”
Luca looked at him.
Declan smiled.
“We all did.”
Camille turned sharply.
Even she had not expected him to say it.
I watched my son absorb the sentence.
May you like
Not because I wanted him hurt.
Because truth had finally reached the place flattery protected.
