Chapter 4
The Second Table began before I became boss.
That mattered.
This was not created because of my decisions.
It was created because men like Vittorio Serra believed no single Valenti head should control the family after my father retired.
They wanted checks.
That was the polite word.
The reality was leverage.
Six men.
Six rings.
One representative from each allied branch.
Marco represented ours.
Serra represented the outside faction.
Camilla knew because her father had held one of the first seats.
I looked at her.
“You inherited this?”
She shook her head.
“Not officially.”
Wrong answer.
“There’s no unofficial version of hiding a private council from me for nine years.”
My father’s recording continued.
The Second Table began with good intentions.
He admitted that.
After two disastrous decisions in his thirties, older family members demanded a private advisory structure.
At first, it worked.
Then advice became pressure.
Pressure became veto.
Veto became manipulation.
By the time my father realized what he had built, Serra had learned to use the table to make rival branches dependent on each other.
My father dissolved it publicly.
The men continued privately.
Marco joined after.
“Why?” I asked.
He stared at the stone floor.
“To prevent instability.”
I almost laughed.
“Which instability?”
“You.”
There.
At least honest.
I had been twenty-eight when my father died.
Aggressive.
Fast.
Unwilling to negotiate with relatives who treated old privileges like law.
The Second Table feared I would tear the family apart.
“So you decided to steer me without telling me.”
Marco nodded once.
“And Camilla?”
“She knew later.”
“How much later?”
“Before your wedding to Sofia.”
My chest went cold.
My late wife.
Now we were somewhere else.
I stepped closer.
“What did Sofia know?”
Camilla immediately said:
“Nothing.”
Too fast.
Rafe noticed too.
He opened another compartment in the cabinet.
Inside was a small velvet pouch.
One USB drive.
Newer than everything else.
A label in Sofia’s handwriting.
FOR DOMENICO, IF THEY START AGAIN.
My hand stopped.
Sofia had been dead five years.
The chapel became very quiet.
My father built the secret.
May you like
The Second Table survived him.
And somehow my wife had discovered it before she died.
