Chapter 10
The final active member of the Second Table was Thomas Vieri.
Seventy-four.
My father’s oldest friend.
He did not deny anything.
That almost made me respect him.
Almost.
“We believed Salvatore was becoming reckless,” he said.
“And after he died?”
“We believed you were.”
“Still?”
He looked at me carefully.
“Less than before.”
Generous.
I asked why Sofia had frightened them.
Thomas answered honestly.
“Because she made you imagine a life outside the estate.”
There.
A wife.
A daughter.
A house somewhere quiet.
To them, that looked like withdrawal.
If the boss physically left the center, old family branches feared losing access.
Sofia represented decentralization.
Not intentionally.
Simply by loving me toward another kind of life.
“Did you approve the SUV?”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
At least one man owned it.
“Did you approve harm?”
“No.”
“I believe you.”
He looked relieved.
Too soon.
“I still remove you.”
His relief died.
Thomas argued that his intentions mattered.
“They do.”
I leaned forward.
“They tell me you were not trying to kill my wife.”
Then:
“They do not tell me you deserve my trust.”
Silence.
That was the distinction the entire family needed.
Intent determines some guilt.
Consequence determines some.
Pattern determines trust.
Thomas had a pattern.
He lost authority.
Before leaving, he said:
“Your father would understand why we did it.”
I thought of the envelope.
The key.
The hidden cabinet.
My father had understood perfectly.
That was why he left evidence.
“He understood.”
Thomas frowned.
May you like
“And he chose against you.”
That ended the conversation.
