Chapter 9
Warren blamed his mother.
Predictable.
“She planned it.”
I stared.
“You touched the plate.”
“She told me what to do.”
“You are thirty-eight.”
Silence.
“She said the Marlowes would destroy us.”
“So?”
His face tightened.
“So you don’t know what it’s like being the branch nobody cares about.”
There.
Not entirely false.
Warren had grown up close enough to Bianchi wealth to compare himself constantly.
Never close enough to inherit the center.
Dangerous position.
“Did I mistreat you?”
“No.”
“Did Lorenzo?”
“No.”
“Sofia?”
He looked away.
No.
“You hated what they represented.”
Silence.
That was it.
Not cruelty received.
Status imagined.
Warren wanted the Pike branch to matter.
Beatrice spent decades teaching him that relevance had to be defended before someone stole it.
The harbor route became proof.
The wedding became threat.
Sofia became symbol.
Ruby became obstacle.
Everyone stopped being people.
Just pieces.
“What did you expect after Sofia became impaired?”
Warren finally answered honestly.
“My mother would make sure her father saw.”
Of course.
The real audience was not only captains.
Sofia’s father.
Make him furious.
Make him blame Bianchi hospitality.
Create distance between families immediately after marriage.
Then offer Pike as stable intermediary.
Elegant.
Cruel.
Stupid.
“You wanted the Marlowes angry at us.”
“Yes.”
“And you thought you could repair it later.”
He looked away.
May you like
Everyone thinks they can repair later.
That lie has built half the disasters I have ever seen.
