Chapter 8 - BLOOD DOESN’T MAKE A FAMILY
Sophia found Anthony at his apartment in Queens.
She didn’t knock.
She pushed inside.
He was sitting at the kitchen table with a bottle of whiskey.
She slapped the photograph in front of him.
“What did you do?”
Anthony looked at it.
Then covered his face.
“Oh, God.”
“Did you help someone get into the Moretti house?”
“No.”
“Did you pay Carlo?”
“Yes.”
Sophia felt sick.
“Why?”
Anthony’s hands shook.
“They told me to.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop lying!”
“I don’t know!”
He slammed his fist on the table.
Then winced because his fingers were still injured.
“They said if I gave Carlo an envelope, my new debt disappeared.”
“What was in it?”
“I swear to God, I didn’t know.”
Sophia’s eyes burned.
“You never know. That’s always your excuse.”
“Sophie—”
“Elena could have died.”
His face crumpled.
“I didn’t know.”
She looked at him and saw something worse than a bad father.
A weak man.
A man who loved her.
A man who kept choosing himself anyway.
“Blood doesn’t make you family,” Sophia whispered. “What you protect does.”
She walked out.
Dante was waiting beside his car.
Sophia stopped.
“You followed me?”
“Enzo did.”
“That’s supposed to be better?”
“No.”
She started walking.
Dante followed.
“My father did it.”
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“Carlo confessed twenty minutes ago.”
Sophia turned sharply.
“What did he say?”
“He received ten thousand dollars to let someone into the east gate and replace your mother’s medication.”
“My mother?”
Dante’s face softened.
“Sorry. Elena.”
“Who paid him?”
“He doesn’t know. Payments came through shell accounts.”
Sophia laughed bitterly.
“Convenient.”
Dante studied her.
“You think it was Vanessa.”
“Yes.”
“So do I.”
That stopped her.
“Then why are you still engaged to her?”
Dante looked toward the street.
“Because the engagement was never about love.”
Sophia’s heart tightened anyway.
“What was it about?”
“Peace.”
He explained.
The Morettis and Genoveses had fought over contracts, unions, properties, and political connections for years.
Their fathers arranged the engagement before Dante’s father died.
Marriage would merge businesses.
End a war.
Protect hundreds of employees.
Sophia stared at him.
“You were going to marry someone you don’t love because your families signed a deal?”
“Yes.”
“That’s insane.”
“That’s my world.”
“No. That’s your excuse.”
Dante’s eyes darkened.
“You think walking away is simple?”
“I think marrying someone you don’t trust is stupid.”
“She wasn’t always like this.”
“People say that right before everything catches fire.”
Dante stepped closer.
“What do you want me to do?”
Sophia’s voice shook.
“I want you to stop asking everyone else what you’re allowed to want.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Dante kissed her.
It wasn’t soft.
It wasn’t careful.
It was two weeks of restraint breaking at once.
Sophia kissed him back.
For one dangerous heartbeat.
Then she shoved him away.
“You have a fiancée.”
His breathing was heavy.
“I know.”
“Then don’t ever do that again while you do.”
She walked toward the subway.
Her phone rang.
Vanessa.
Sophia answered.
“What?”
Vanessa sounded amused.
“You should go back upstairs.”
Sophia froze.
“What?”
“To your father’s apartment.”
Her blood turned cold.
“Why?”
“Because I left him a present.”
Sophia ran back.
The apartment door was open.
Anthony was gone.
On the table sat his whiskey bottle.
Beside it was a single photograph.
Sophia picked it up.
May you like
It showed Elena Moretti leaving church.
A red circle had been drawn around her head.
