Chapter 2
I opened the council-room doors.
No warning.
No announcement.
Nine men looked up.
Carlo Bellini sat nearest my chair.
Sixty-seven.
Silver-haired.
Perfect suit.
The same calm expression he wore whenever he was about to explain why cruelty was merely tradition misunderstood by younger people.
His eyes went past me.
Toward Evan.
Then the prosthetic in his hand.
Something flickered.
Disappointment.
Not concern.
That told me enough.
“Where is Evan?” Carlo asked.
“Right here.”
I stepped aside.
My brother entered slowly after securing the prosthetic himself. No one helped him because he had not asked.
Mara and Derek were brought in behind us.
I watched the table.
Three men would not meet my eyes.
Interesting.
Carlo looked at Evan.
“We were expecting your statement.”
I took my seat.
“What statement?”
Carlo sighed.
“Lucian.”
“Say it.”
He folded his hands.
“Your brother has decided continued visibility at the senior table creates unnecessary distraction.”
Evan laughed quietly.
“No.”
Carlo looked at him.
“You agreed.”
“I said I would think.”
“You understood what was best.”
There it was.
The voice adults use when someone’s choice refuses to become convenient.
I leaned back.
“What exactly is distracting about my brother?”
No one answered.
I waited.
Finally an older capo named Thomas said:
“Other families notice.”
“His leg?”
Silence.
I almost smiled.
“You’re all very observant.”
Carlo’s expression hardened.
“This is not about disability.”
Of course.
“It’s about perception.”
Always.
Never cruelty.
Perception.
Never exclusion.
Stability.
Never shame.
Tradition.
Carlo explained that Evan’s position at council had become “symbolically difficult” during negotiations with Whitfield.
Derek’s family expected a stronger presentation of Bellini leadership.
I looked at Derek.
“You came into my house asking us to hide one of our own so your family would feel stronger?”
He shrugged.
“Business is appearance.”
Wrong.
Business is what remains after appearance breaks.
Then Mara spoke.
“If Evan marries me, he doesn’t need the council seat.”
I turned.
“Why?”
“Because Whitfield gives him another place.”
Evan stared at her.
There it was.
She had never been asking him to step away from power.
She was asking him to transfer dependence from Bellini to her family.
Carlo had apparently approved.
I looked around the table.
“How many of you knew?”
Three hands slowly lifted.
Not nine.
Good.
May you like
The rot had boundaries.
For now.
