Chapter 8 - The Dinner Bellini Never Finished
The attempt on Francesco’s life had already happened.
They just had not known it.
Eight months before Sofia died, Francesco had been hospitalized after collapsing at a private dinner.
Doctors called it an arrhythmia.
He recovered.
No one connected it to medication administered during treatment.
The accountant’s testimony suggested Bellini had arranged for compromised drugs to enter specific hospitals where Moretti family members were likely to receive care.
Faith stared at Francesco in her apartment.
“You were poisoned.”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“I survived.”
“That is not the same thing as nothing happened.”
He looked almost amused.
“You sound like Maria.”
“Good.”
The federal task force asked Francesco to cooperate formally.
That meant turning over financial records.
Communications.
Names.
Some connected to Bellini.
Some connected to the Moretti family’s own criminal past.
Francesco had a choice.
Protect the empire his father built.
Or help destroy Bellini’s network at the risk of exposing his own.
Faith did not tell him what to choose.
She knew what she hoped.
But she had learned that love became dangerous when it turned into ownership disguised as concern.
Three days passed.
Francesco disappeared into meetings.
Faith worked.
Rebecca testified before a grand jury.
Vincent was charged with identity theft, fraud, conspiracy, medication diversion, and assault.
Bellini remained free.
Then, on Sunday evening, Francesco called Faith.
“Come to dinner.”
“Is that an order?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
At the townhouse, the dining table was set for two.
Maria served pasta and disappeared with a smile that suggested she knew more than either of them wanted.
Francesco poured wine.
“I met with Agent Park.”
Faith put down her fork.
“And?”
“I gave her everything.”
“Everything everything?”
“Yes.”
“What happens now?”
“Some of my businesses will be investigated.”
“Could you go to prison?”
“Yes.”
Faith’s stomach tightened.
“For what?”
“Tax crimes. Illegal gambling operations from years ago. Conspiracy, depending on what old associates say.”
She stared.
“You knew that before you handed it over.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Francesco looked at her for a long time.
“Because Sofia deserved the truth.”
Then he added, “And because I am tired of asking whether I can build something clean on top of something rotten.”
Faith swallowed.
“What does that mean for us?”
His eyes softened.
“It means I cannot promise you what happens next.”
“Good.”
He looked surprised.
“I don’t want promises about outcomes.”
“What do you want?”
“The truth before it becomes convenient.”
Francesco reached across the table.
Faith took his hand.
The lights flickered.
Then the front windows exploded.
Francesco moved before Faith understood the sound.
He pulled her beneath the table as glass rained across the floor.
Gunshots cracked from the street.
Arthur shouted from the foyer.
Maria screamed upstairs.
Faith’s heart slammed against her ribs.
Francesco covered her body with his.
“Stay down.”
She smelled smoke.
Then heard a car accelerate away.
It lasted less than ten seconds.
When silence returned, Francesco lifted his head.
Blood ran down his cheek from a cut near his temple.
Faith touched it.
“You’re hurt.”
“Glass.”
Arthur entered, weapon lowered but ready.
“They’re gone.”
Francesco looked at Faith.
Fear finally appeared in his eyes.
Not for himself.
For her.
“This is why you should leave me.”
Faith’s chest tightened.
“No.”
“Faith.”
“No.”
“This world—”
“Stop deciding for me.”
He went silent.
She sat up carefully.
“I may leave someday. I may decide this is too much. But that will be my decision.”
Outside, sirens approached.
Francesco stared at her.
Then nodded.
Hours later, police recovered the abandoned car.
Inside was one item.
A white envelope.
Addressed to Faith.
Agent Park opened it with gloves.
Inside was a photograph.
Faith entering her apartment.
Taken two days earlier.
On the back, three words were written.
YOU’RE NEXT, NURSE.
The shooting at the townhouse changed the rules again.
Agent Park wanted Faith relocated.
Francesco wanted her surrounded by security.
Faith wanted to scream at both of them.
Instead, she asked questions.
How long?
What level of threat?
Could she keep working?
Could she choose where she stayed?
By the end of the meeting, she had negotiated a temporary return to Francesco’s property with federal coordination and a route that allowed her to continue working limited shifts.
Park looked amused.
“You negotiate like a union rep.”
“My mother worked retail for thirty years.”
“Explains a lot.”
At the townhouse, Maria hugged Faith so tightly she nearly lost her breath.
Then Maria slapped Francesco lightly on the arm.
“You let bullets come through my windows.”
Francesco blinked.
“I did not invite them.”
“You invite trouble since birth.”
Faith laughed.
Francesco looked betrayed.
“You are encouraging her.”
“Yes.”
For one evening, danger became domestic.
They ate soup in the kitchen because the dining room windows were boarded up.
Arthur complained about contractors.
Maria complained about Arthur.
Faith realized this was the first time she had seen Francesco’s world without ceremony.
It was not an empire.
It was people.
Complicated, loyal, frightened people who had built rituals around surviving one another.
That made leaving harder.
It also made staying more honest.
The morning after the shooting, Faith walked through the damaged dining room with an insurance adjuster and two detectives.
A bullet had torn through the wall exactly where her chair had been.
She stared at the hole longer than she meant to.
Francesco came up beside her.
“Faith.”
“I’m fine.”
He did not accept the lie.
Neither did he challenge it.
Instead he said, “You don’t have to be.”
That was better.
She went upstairs, called Dr. Williams, and asked for two days off.
It was the first time in years she had admitted fear without feeling weak.
On the second day, she cooked with Maria, badly.
On the third, she returned to work.
May you like
Not because danger was gone.
Because fear was no longer allowed to schedule her life by itself.
