Chapter 9
We found the fake resignation inside the Rolex box.
That nearly impressed me.
I had bought the watch for Gavin myself.
He somehow opened the outer packaging, hid a folded page beneath the display platform, then resealed everything cleanly enough that I never noticed.
He expected me to bring my own forged surrender home.
I stared at the box for a long time.
Claire stood nearby.
“That’s sick.”
I looked at her.
“So was sleeping in my bed.”
She lowered her eyes.
Good.
We were not skipping steps.
The resignation was short.
Personal.
Convincing.
It said the pressure of leadership had cost me too much and I wanted to preserve what remained of my marriage and private life.
Gavin had written the emotional logic.
Claire copied the signature.
Marco provided the timing.
Three people.
Three jobs.
I read the final line.
I leave Valenti leadership voluntarily and without coercion.
Of course.
Always make the victim certify the lie.
“When was this going out?”
Gavin answered from across the room.
“Tonight.”
“To who?”
“Senior captains.”
“How many?”
“Twelve.”
My jaw tightened.
“Already copied?”
“Yes.”
“Delivered?”
He hesitated.
“Some.”
There.
I turned to my security chief.
“Find them.”
Within an hour, six envelopes were recovered.
Two had not been delivered.
Four had.
One captain, Raymond Costa, returned his unopened when he heard there was an internal issue.
Another opened his.
Dominic Vale.
Old enough to distrust handwriting.
Smart enough to call.
He arrived personally.
I handed him the forgery.
He read it.
Then looked at me.
“This isn’t yours.”
I almost smiled.
“How do you know?”
“You don’t say private life.”
I frowned.
He shrugged.
“You say home.”
Small thing.
True.
Forgery is more than pen strokes.
It is rhythm.
Language.
Habits.
Claire could copy my signature.
Gavin could imitate my emotional logic.
Neither could replicate the details every loyal person accumulated over years.
Dominic looked at Gavin.
“You wrote this?”
Silence.
Then at Claire.
“You signed it?”
She nodded.
He looked disgusted.
Not because of adultery.
Because inside Mafia families, forged surrender is worse than sleeping with the wrong spouse.
One breaks vows.
The other breaks command.
Dominic placed the page down.
“Marco.”
Not a question.
I looked at him.
“You knew he’d try?”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“I knew he never accepted your father choosing you.”
There.
Not marriage.
Not personality.
Not even policy.
May you like
Marco’s resentment predated all of it.
He had been waiting for the right people close enough to me to turn access into weakness.
