Chapter 7 - THE TRAITOR AT THE TABLE
The attack on the warehouse changed Dominic.
Clara noticed it before anyone said a word.
He became quieter.
Which was frightening, because Dominic Rossi had never wasted words to begin with.
By midnight, every Rossi captain in New York had been ordered to the estate.
Twelve men gathered around the long dining table where Isabella usually hosted Christmas dinner.
Tonight there was no food.
Only guns.
Phones were collected at the door.
Windows were covered.
Clara watched from the library through a security monitor.
Dominic had refused to let her attend.
For once, she agreed.
Her body was failing.
Pain medication blurred the edges of the room.
But she refused to sleep.
Somewhere, Costa held her mother.
Somewhere, Father Thomas had disappeared.
And someone had stolen the only recording that might reveal Carlo Rossi's killer.
Enzo entered carrying coffee.
"Drink."
"Is that an order?"
"Dominic's."
"Then definitely no."
Enzo handed it to her anyway.
Clara studied him.
"How long have you known Dominic?"
"Since I was eight."
"That's unfortunate."
Enzo laughed.
"You know, most people are terrified of him."
"I noticed."
"You're not."
"I was shot seven times. My standards for terrifying changed."
Enzo sat across from her.
"He's terrified of you."
Clara nearly choked.
"Dominic?"
"Absolutely."
"That man threatened a surgeon because she wanted him to leave the ICU."
"He understands surgeons."
Enzo nodded toward Clara.
"You he doesn't understand at all."
She looked back at the monitor.
Dominic stood at the head of the table.
Salvatore sat at the opposite end.
"Did Dominic really think Salvatore betrayed his father?"
"For years."
"And still kept him close?"
"Family."
Enzo said the word like it explained everything.
Maybe in their world, it did.
"Did you know my father?"
"A little."
Enzo smiled faintly.
"You hit me with a peach."
"Apparently that was my defining contribution to the Rossi family."
"You were terrifying."
Clara looked down at the ring.
"Why did Dominic really do this?"
Enzo didn't pretend not to understand.
"The marriage?"
"Yes."
"Protection."
"That's what he says."
"It's true."
"But not all of it."
Enzo's eyes shifted.
Clara caught it.
"What aren't you telling me?"
"I enjoy breathing."
"Enzo."
He sighed.
"When you were brought into surgery, your heart stopped."
Clara swallowed.
"I know."
"Dominic was standing outside."
Enzo looked at her.
"I've seen him during shootings, funerals, indictments, wars. I watched a man hold a gun to his head once."
Clara waited.
"He never looked scared."
Enzo glanced down.
"Until the doctor said they lost your pulse."
Something warm and frightening moved through Clara's chest.
"He barely knew me."
"Maybe."
Enzo stood.
"But he remembered you."
Clara frowned.
"From when I was five?"
"He kept the peach pit."
She stared.
"What?"
Enzo smiled.
"Ask him."
Before Clara could respond, the monitor feed went black.
Enzo's smile vanished.
He drew his gun.
The mansion lights flickered.
Not again.
Then every screen changed.
A prerecorded video appeared.
Victor Costa sat behind a desk.
Ellen was beside him.
Alive.
Clara rolled closer.
"Mom."
Ellen looked weak.
Her skin was gray.
An IV line entered her arm.
Victor smiled at the camera.
"Good evening, Dominic."
Inside the dining room, every captain saw the same video.
"I assume by now you've opened Michael Evans's vault."
Dominic's face remained stone.
"You found the ledger."
Victor continued.
"But you lost the recording."
He held up a small digital tape.
Clara's heart jumped.
"The final piece of Michael's little insurance policy."
Ellen looked toward the camera.
Her lips moved silently.
Clara leaned closer.
Run.
Victor continued.
"I have Elena. I have the recording. You have Michael's ledger."
He smiled.
"Let's make a trade."
Dominic spoke toward the camera even though he knew Victor couldn't hear.
"No."
Victor's prerecorded smile seemed almost mocking.
"Tomorrow. Midnight. Aster Crown Hotel."
The same ballroom.
"Bring the original ledger and Clara Evans."
Clara froze.
"Not Clara Rossi. We both know that performance was for politics."
Victor leaned closer.
"Bring Michael's daughter, or Elena's heart medication gets replaced with saline."
Clara stared at her mother.
Victor placed his hand on Ellen's shoulder.
"Midnight, Dominic."
The screen went black.
Clara immediately moved toward the door.
Enzo blocked her.
"No."
"Move."
"No."
"My mother will die."
"And Dominic will kill me."
"I'll help."
"That's not comforting."
The dining room doors opened.
Dominic walked out.
Clara met him in the hallway.
"I'm going."
"No."
"That wasn't a question."
"Good. Because my answer remains no."
"You heard him."
"I did."
"He's going to kill her."
"Victor will kill both of you the second you arrive."
"Then we make a plan."
"I already have one."
"What?"
"Kill Victor before midnight."
Clara stared.
"Do you know where he is?"
"No."
"Excellent plan."
Dominic's jaw tightened.
She wheeled closer.
"My mother left me instructions. My father left me the ledger. This is my family too."
"This isn't a family argument."
"You're right. Normal families don't have basement vaults."
Dominic crouched in front of her.
His voice softened.
"Clara."
"No."
"Listen."
"I've been listening since I woke up. Everyone tells me what my parents did, what Costa wants, what you decided for me."
Her eyes filled.
"I am done being carried from one secret to another."
Dominic flinched almost imperceptibly.
Clara continued.
"I decide whether I walk into that ballroom."
"And I decide whether my people take you."
"Then I'll go alone."
"You can't walk ten feet alone."
"Watch me."
She grabbed the table and tried standing.
Pain tore through her chest.
Her knees buckled.
Dominic caught her.
Clara gasped against his shoulder.
For several seconds neither moved.
His arm was around her waist.
Her face against his neck.
"You're infuriating," he whispered.
"So I've been told."
"You're going to destroy your stitches."
"My mother is dying."
His grip tightened.
"I know."
Clara looked up.
There was anguish in his eyes.
Not control.
Not anger.
Fear.
"If it were Isabella," Clara whispered, "would you stay here?"
Dominic didn't answer.
She knew she had won.
An hour later, Salvatore requested a private meeting.
Dominic met him in Carlo's old office.
Salvatore closed the door.
"One of the captains is feeding Costa information."
"I know."
"I know which one."
Dominic turned.
"Who?"
Salvatore placed a photograph on the desk.
Anthony "Tony" Caruso.
Rossi captain for eighteen years.
Godfather to Enzo's younger brother.
Carlo's former driver.
Dominic's face hardened.
"Proof?"
"Michael's ledger has shorthand beside several payments. A.C."
"Could be anyone."
"Not with this."
Salvatore placed an old bank record beside it.
Account holder: Anthony Caruso.
Dominic stared.
"He was there the night my father died."
Salvatore nodded.
"He drove Carlo to the warehouse."
"Why didn't you say this before?"
"Because I didn't know the account existed until Clara opened the ledger."
Dominic reached for his gun.
Salvatore stopped him.
"No."
Dominic looked at his hand.
"If Caruso is the leak, killing him warns Costa."
"What do you suggest?"
"Feed him something."
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
"A false plan."
Salvatore nodded.
"Tell the captains Clara will enter the ballroom through the west service tunnel."
"And actually?"
"North roof."
Dominic considered it.
Then the office door opened.
Isabella stood there.
"There's a problem."
Dominic looked at her.
"What?"
She held a piece of paper.
"Clara found something in her father's letter."
They returned to the library.
Clara had spread Michael's papers across a table.
"Look at the first letter of every paragraph."
Dominic read them.
I.
S.
A.
B.
E.
L.
L.
A.
Isabella.
Clara looked at the older woman.
"My father didn't just say to trust you."
She turned over the final sheet.
Under heat from a lamp, invisible ink had appeared.
A message.
ISABELLA HAS THE LAST PAGE.
Everyone looked at her.
Isabella went pale.
Dominic whispered, "Mother?"
She sat down.
For the first time in Clara's presence, Isabella Rossi looked truly afraid.
"I hoped Michael was wrong."
Clara's heart pounded.
"About what?"
Isabella looked at her son.
"The person above Father Thomas."
Dominic went still.
"You know who it is."
Tears filled Isabella's eyes.
"I have known for fourteen years."
Dominic's voice was barely audible.
"Who killed my father?"
Isabella looked toward the closed dining room where the captains waited.
Then she whispered the name.
"Anthony Caruso."
Dominic's jaw tightened.
But Isabella wasn't finished.
"No."
She shook her head.
"Caruso pulled the trigger."
Dominic stared.
"The person who ordered it was someone else."
She reached beneath the collar of her dress and removed the antique emerald necklace Clara had seen at the gala.
Isabella twisted the largest emerald.
A tiny compartment opened.
Inside was a folded strip of paper.
The missing ledger page.
Dominic unfolded it.
His eyes moved across the handwritten entry.
Then stopped.
Clara watched the color leave his face.
"What?"
Dominic couldn't speak.
Clara took the page.
At the bottom, beneath a list of payments and coded instructions, Michael Evans had written one sentence.
CARLO'S DEATH AUTHORIZED BY V.C. WITH APPROVAL FROM I.R.
Clara looked up.
"I.R.?"
Dominic stared at his mother.
Isabella Rossi.
I.R.
The room became silent.
Isabella began to cry.
May you like
And Dominic took one slow step away from her.
"Mother..."
