Chapter 8
"It was her fault!" Hattie suddenly shrieked from the pile of crushed oranges and apples.
Salvatore turned his head slowly. Hattie was pushing herself up onto her elbows, her expensive summer dress stained with citrus and dirt. The red handprint on her cheek was glowing violently in the bright sunlight. She glared at Salvatore, a twisted mix of fear and desperate defiance in her eyes.
"Your wife was going to ruin us, Salvatore!" Hattie yelled, her voice echoing shrilly against the stone planters. "She found the ledgers! She knew about the skim from the supply lines! If she had brought those books to you, Nolan and I would have been executed by the council!"
Salvatore stared at his cousin. The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place with horrifying clarity. His wife hadn't been targeted by a rival family for leverage; she had been sold out by his own blood to cover up their embezzlement.
"So you gave the mother of my child to a stranger," Salvatore said softly, the betrayal cutting deeper than a knife. "To save your own pathetic lives."
"We had no choice!" Hattie sobbed, burying her face in her hands again. "He promised he would just keep her quiet! He promised he would take her out of the country until we could fix the books!"
Ella, still clinging to Salvatore’s hip, began to whimper at the loud shouting. The three-year-old buried her rosy face deeper into his unbuttoned shirt. Salvatore closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, mastering the blinding rage that threatened to consume him. He needed to be a father first, a monster second.
"Anthony," Salvatore commanded, his voice low and steady.
"Yes, Boss," the senior capo replied, stepping up instantly.
"Take Ella inside," Salvatore said, gently peeling his daughter’s arms from his neck. He kissed her forehead tenderly. "Take her to her room. Have Maria read her a story. Close your eyes, principessa. Daddy will be right inside."
"I want Mommy," Ella cried, reaching out for him as Anthony gently lifted her into his arms.
"I am going to bring Mommy home," Salvatore promised, his voice cracking for the very first time. "I swear it."
Once Anthony had carried the crying child through a side door, shielding her from the violence, Salvatore turned his full, undivided attention back to the patio. The bright, beautiful midsummer afternoon felt entirely corrupted.
May you like
He walked back over to Nolan, who was still cowering by the hammered-metal trough.
"My daughter is gone," Salvatore whispered, his shadow falling over the associate. "You are out of time, Nolan. Give me the name."
