Chapter 10
Lorenzo’s memory card contained one recording.
Arthur’s voice.
You’re dying anyway.
Lorenzo answered:
That disappoints you.
Arthur laughed.
It complicates timing.
Gabriel listened in silence.
His father sounded tired.
Not weak.
Arthur continued:
The organization needs structure after you.
Lorenzo:
It has Gabriel.
Arthur:
Gabriel reacts emotionally.
Lorenzo:
Gabriel knows people.
Arthur:
Same weakness.
Lorenzo laughed.
That laugh hurt.
Gabriel remembered it.
The recording continued.
Lorenzo:
You think knowing secrets makes you indispensable.
Arthur:
It does.
Lorenzo:
No. It makes you useful until someone notices you’re the source of every secret.
Silence.
Then Lorenzo:
I’ve watched you divide men for fifteen years.
Arthur:
And still you kept me.
Lorenzo:
Because I wanted Gabriel to inherit you where he could see you.
Gabriel’s hand tightened.
His father had left him a dangerous adviser on purpose.
Not as punishment.
As exposure.
Caleb stared at the floor.
The recording continued:
Arthur, one day you’ll try to replace the family with a system that answers only to you.
Arthur laughed.
Families fail.
Systems don’t.
Lorenzo:
Systems built on fear always fail when one frightened person stops obeying.
The recording ended.
Gabriel thought of Olivia removing the vent.
Caleb speaking.
Nero refusing to leave the room.
Exactly.
One frightened person.
Then another.
Back at the estate, Arthur was no longer in the hidden operations room.
Gabriel stopped.
Olivia stood beside the desk.
One bodyguard bleeding from his eyebrow.
“He got out.”
“How?”
“Someone opened the secondary tunnel.”
Caleb whispered:
“Secondary?”
Olivia nodded toward the wall.
Another concealed door stood open.
Gabriel looked at Caleb.
He genuinely hadn’t known.
Arthur compartmentalized even his own son.
Then the estate intercom activated.
Arthur’s voice filled the house.
“Gabriel.”
Silence.
“Bring Caleb to the ballroom.”
Caleb went pale.
Arthur continued:
“Or every capo upstairs hears exactly what you said about them in private.”
Gabriel looked toward the ceiling.
May you like
Arthur had reached the gala.
And now he was using nine months of stolen conversations as a weapon.
