Chapter 7
David moved toward the recorder.
Vittorio held it away.
“Not yet.”
David’s eyes flashed.
“That belongs to my father.”
“He gave it to me.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
Margaret recovered.
“Don't.”
Her voice became smooth again.
“Gabriel blamed Vittorio for everything near the end.”
David turned.
“You said they were friends.”
“They were.”
“Then enemies?”
“Men like them change those words whenever power moves.”
Vittorio watched her.
She was rebuilding the lie as she spoke.
David wanted to believe her.
That was obvious.
He had built too much of himself around the story.
His father, Gabriel Mercer, had supposedly been betrayed by Vittorio twenty-eight years earlier.
According to Margaret, Gabriel had refused to surrender Mercer territory.
Vittorio used rival Calders to break him.
Gabriel died months later during a street ambush.
David grew up hearing one lesson.
Never let a DeLuca decide your worth.
Then he married Vittorio’s daughter.
At first, he told himself it proved he had risen above the old hatred.
Over time, it became something else.
A chance to stand close enough to the throne to take it.
Sarah finally understood.
“You married me partly because of him.”
David looked at her.
His silence hurt more than confession.
Margaret smiled.
“There.”
She turned toward Sarah.
“Finally something gets through that pretty little head.”
Sarah’s eyes hardened.
Margaret continued.
“You really thought a Mercer capo woke up one morning dreaming of carrying your purse behind you?”
David’s jaw tightened.
“Mom.”
She ignored him.
“Men marry for alliance.”
Her gaze dropped dismissively over Sarah.
“Love is what women call it when they want the arrangement to sound flattering.”
Sarah’s breathing changed.
Vittorio saw.
David did too.
He could have stopped his mother.
He did not.
That mattered.
Then Sarah asked:
“Did you ever love me?”
David’s face shifted.
For the first time that night, he had no ready insult.
Margaret answered for him.
“He loved what came with you.”
David snapped:
“Stop.”
Margaret looked at him.
Sarah’s face fell.
The answer had arrived anyway.
Vittorio’s fingers tightened around the recorder.
Then Emma’s small voice came from the hallway.
“Mommy?”
Everyone turned.
The nanny stood behind her, apologetic.
Emma had woken frightened and refused to stay upstairs.
Sarah immediately reached for her.
Vittorio picked the little girl up instead and carried her over.
Emma put both arms around Sarah’s shoulders carefully.
Then noticed the recorder.
Her eyes widened.
“I saw that.”
Margaret stopped breathing.
Vittorio looked at Emma.
“Where?”
“Grandma’s fireplace.”
Every adult went still.
Margaret’s expression hardened.
Emma continued.
“She threw one in.”
David looked toward his mother.
“One?”
The child nodded.
“Daddy got mad.”
Sarah turned toward David.
“You knew?”
David’s face went pale.
Margaret spoke sharply.
“Children confuse objects.”
Emma flinched.
Margaret leaned toward her.
“Enough lying.”
Vittorio stepped between them.
Margaret did not back down.
She pointed toward Emma.
“That child has caused enough damage tonight.”
Sarah stared.
Margaret continued, voice dripping contempt.
“She repeats half a sentence, you all leap like servants, and suddenly I’m supposed to defend myself against a preschooler.”
Emma buried her face against Vittorio.
That was the moment David finally looked disgusted with his mother.
Not enough.
But real.
He asked:
“What did you burn?”
Margaret’s eyes met his.
“Nothing that mattered.”
Paolo spoke behind them.
“Then you won't mind hearing the one Gabriel gave me too.”
Margaret’s face emptied.
May you like
There had been two recorders.
And she had only destroyed one.
