Chapter 12
The three capos entered the dining room without being summoned.
Margaret smiled when she saw them.
“Gentlemen.”
Vittorio said nothing.
One of them, Carlo Bianchi, looked toward David.
Then toward Sarah’s injured leg.
His face tightened.
Margaret noticed.
“Don't.”
Her tone became contemptuous.
“Don't become delicate now.”
Carlo looked at her.
Margaret continued.
“You all wanted change yesterday.”
Her eyes moved from one man to the next.
“You wanted Vittorio out.”
Silence.
“You wanted younger routes.”
“More control.”
“Less of this old man deciding who gets to breathe.”
Vittorio watched.
She was not wrong.
That made her dangerous.
Carlo finally said:
“We wanted a leadership challenge.”
Margaret smiled.
“Exactly.”
He looked at Sarah.
“We didn't agree to this.”
Her smile faded.
“‘This’?”
He pointed toward the rug.
“His wife.”
Margaret laughed.
“Please.”
She looked toward Sarah with open contempt.
“One bruised princess and suddenly every man in the room discovers morality.”
Sarah’s jaw tightened.
Margaret continued.
“You've watched men disappear over routes.”
“Now you're trembling because David’s wife fell down?”
David looked at his mother.
The word fell hit differently now.
He had used it.
She was still using it.
Carlo’s face hardened.
“She did not fall.”
Margaret’s eyes sharpened.
“You weren't there.”
Emma’s voice came from the hallway.
“I was.”
Everyone turned.
The nanny stood behind her.
Emma held her stuffed rabbit.
Sarah’s face tightened.
She had wanted the child kept away.
But Emma had heard voices and returned.
The little girl looked toward Carlo.
“Daddy pushed Mommy.”
No hesitation.
No confusion.
Margaret rolled her eyes.
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
Vittorio looked at her.
Margaret ignored him.
She pointed at Emma.
“A child says it again.”
Her voice became cruel.
“Should we all kneel now?”
Emma clutched the rabbit tighter.
Margaret continued.
“She cries and everyone forgets she’s Sarah’s daughter.”
A sneer.
“Drama is hereditary.”
David suddenly turned.
“Stop talking about her.”
The room went still.
Margaret looked at him.
“What?”
“Emma.”
David’s breathing changed.
“Stop.”
Margaret stared.
Then laughed.
“You finally remembered you’re a father?”
The words cut him.
She did not care.
“You've spent months frightening that child every time you frightened her mother.”
David went pale.
Margaret continued.
“And now you want applause because you found one boundary?”
Sarah watched him.
He looked away.
The truth hurt because Margaret was right.
His mother had shaped him.
But he had chosen what he did with the shape.
Carlo looked toward Vittorio.
“Our support is withdrawn.”
Margaret’s face changed.
The second capo nodded.
Then the third.
Her eyes widened.
“You cowardly old men.”
Carlo’s voice stayed cold.
“No.”
“We backed a challenge.”
His gaze moved toward David.
“Not a man who has to break his wife to feel taller.”
David closed his eyes.
Margaret looked furious.
The coup was collapsing.
Then she smiled.
Again.
Too calm.
Vittorio saw it.
“You still have something.”
Margaret looked at him.
“I have tomorrow.”
“What happens tomorrow?”
Her eyes gleamed.
“The north gate opens.”
David turned toward her.
“No.”
Margaret smiled.
“Your vote was only the polite version.”
Lucian Calder’s face hardened.
“I gave no order.”
Margaret looked toward him.
“I didn't need yours.”
A silence fell.
Lucian understood before the others.
Margaret had arranged another group.
Not Calder.
A breakaway crew using Calder colors.
Men who wanted the DeLuca-Mercer conflict to ignite.
Vittorio’s eyes narrowed.
May you like
Margaret had built a coup with one hand—
and a war with the other.
