Chapter 16
Celeste did not forgive Dario when he apologized.
Not immediately.
She listened.
That was more than he deserved.
Dario stood several feet away from her in the sunroom, hands empty, eyes lowered. The arrogance was gone.
“I wanted Luciano angry,” he said. “I told myself the stairs were safe.”
Celeste said nothing.
“I told myself you’d stumble.”
Still nothing.
“I knew you could fall.”
There.
The truth.
Dario looked at her.
“I did it anyway.”
Celeste’s hand rested over her belly.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing.”
That was the first correct answer he had given her.
Dario left.
Luciano entered afterward.
He did not ask whether she forgave him.
He sat beside her.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Celeste said, “You know what scared me most?”
“The fall?”
“No.”
She looked toward the doorway Dario had used.
“That everyone understood his behavior before I did.”
Luciano frowned.
“Your father. Dario. The old capos. They all knew what ‘provoking you’ meant. They knew what kind of reaction the family expected from you.”
Luciano understood.
The trap only worked because everyone believed violence was predictable.
His violence.
His anger.
His role.
Celeste looked at him.
“You didn’t build all of that.”
“No.”
“But you inherited it.”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
Luciano looked toward the foyer where the staircase had been repaired.
“Now I decide what survives.”
Weeks later, the baby was still healthy.
Celeste walked slowly again without pain.
Nora graduated properly the following weekend in a smaller family dinner with no speeches about blood, succession, or duty.
Rafael stayed away.
By choice.
He sent one note to Luciano.
YOU BROKE THE PATTERN WHERE I COULDN’T.
Luciano read it once.
Then burned it.
He did not need another older man naming what kind of leader he was.
Celeste saw the ashes.
“Good?”
Luciano nodded.
“Good.”
Then she smiled.
May you like
“Come help me pick a crib.”
For the first time in weeks, the Ferraro future was something as ordinary as furniture.
