Chapter 5
Gavin’s motive was simpler.
Power usually is.
Under the Hearth Rule, the senior council would need an acting household authority while I “recovered.”
Silas was too old to run day-to-day operations.
Gavin was not.
I looked at him.
“You become acting chief.”
He shrugged.
“Temporary.”
I laughed once.
Every betrayal apparently comes with that word.
“Who promised you?”
“Silas.”
My uncle did not deny it.
Gavin continued.
“You’ve centralized too much.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I centralized decisions you were making in my name.”
His jaw tightened.
That had been a conflict between us for years.
He liked telling younger crews:
“Dante wants this.”
Sometimes I did.
Sometimes I had never heard of it.
When I confronted him, he called it efficiency.
I called it using my shadow.
The Hearth Rule solved his problem.
If I stepped aside, he would not need my name.
He would have my seat.
“What did you think would happen to Maisie?”
“She’d be protected.”
“From me.”
Silence.
“You believed that?”
He looked away.
Interesting.
“No.”
Honest.
“You knew I would never hurt her.”
“Yes.”
“And you still helped stage it.”
His face hardened.
“You’ve changed the organization around her.”
“No.”
“She made you softer.”
“She made me selective.”
“Same thing.”
There.
To Gavin, every kindness cost authority.
Every family interruption reduced stature.
Every time I chose fatherhood openly, he saw evidence the boss could be pressured.
He wanted the old Dante back.
The one who slept in council rooms.
Missed birthdays.
Measured loyalty by who stayed latest.
I looked at him.
“You didn’t want to protect the family from me.”
Pause.
“You wanted to protect the organization from the part of me that became human after Amelia died.”
He said nothing.
Silas did.
“He wanted to protect what your father built.”
I turned.
There was the next layer.
May you like
My father.
Of course.
