Luciano had believed he was reacting to an attack on his family.

The questions had started after Nora’s graduation invitation went out.

That was what Anthony remembered.

Not before.

Not after.

The reception gave Augusto exactly what he needed: a room filled with senior Ferraro men, extended family, and enough witnesses to make any public loss of control impossible to contain.

Luciano looked around the foyer differently after that.

This was not merely where Dario had attacked his wife.

It was a stage.

Anthony continued carefully. “Some of the older men were told you had become unpredictable.”

Luciano said nothing.

“Who told them?”

“No one directly.”

Augusto smiled faintly.

There it was.

The old style.

Never say enough to be held by the words. Put a concern into the room, mention a weakness, let frightened men repeat it for you.

Anthony looked at Augusto. “You asked whether Luciano was still capable of separating family from command.”

Augusto shrugged. “A reasonable question.”

“Then Dario told people Celeste controls him.”

Dario sat up against the broken wooden display.

“She does.”

Celeste’s face hardened.

Luciano turned toward his brother.

Dario saw it and smiled again, trying to recover the arrogance that had protected him for years.

“You leave meetings early when she calls. You changed three security routes because she didn’t like the nursery wing. You canceled a debt collection when she said the man’s daughter was sick.”

Luciano stared at him.

Dario leaned forward.

“You’re becoming soft.”

There it was.

The word weak men always used when cruelty stopped being automatic.

Luciano looked back at the recording.

“You wanted footage of me hitting you.”

Dario said nothing.

“Why?”

Augusto answered.

“Because men should see who leads them.”

Luciano’s eyes moved to him.