Chapter 5 - A Traitor Inside the Mansion
There are betrayals you anticipate.
Competitors.
Politicians.
Men who swear loyalty because they need money.
Then there are betrayals that rearrange your memories.
Vincent stood in Lauren's doorway holding his phone.
“Who?” I asked.
He hesitated.
That frightened me more than the answer.
“Carlo DeLuca.”
For a moment, I believed I'd heard incorrectly.
“My uncle?”
Lauren looked between us.
Vincent nodded.
Carlo DeLuca was my mother's older brother.
He had helped raise me after my father died.
He had sat beside me at Matteo's funeral.
He had toasted me the night I became head of the family.
If Vincent had accused almost anyone else, I would have believed him faster.
“What proof?”
“Mercer says Carlo recruited him.”
“That isn't proof.”
“I checked bank activity.”
Vincent handed me the phone.
Payments.
Shell companies.
Transfers to an account controlled by Carlo's daughter.
Enough money to be suspicious.
Not enough to prove treason.
“What did Mercer do with Lauren's page?”
“Gave it to Carlo.”
Lauren whispered, “And Carlo gave it to Vescari.”
I looked at Vincent.
“Where is my uncle?”
“His apartment.”
“Bring him here.”
“Arturo—”
“Now.”
Two hours later, Carlo entered my library.
He was sixty-four.
Gray-haired.
Immaculate.
A man who had spent thirty years teaching younger criminals never to appear nervous.
He looked at Lauren.
Then at me.
“So this is about the maid.”
Her jaw tightened.
I said, “Her name is Lauren.”
Carlo's expression sharpened.
That one correction told him more than I intended.
He sat.
“I assume Vincent has filled your head with theories.”
“Did you pay Daniel Mercer?”
“Yes.”
Lauren inhaled sharply.
Carlo didn't even look at her.
“Why?”
“To watch her.”
“You knew Vescari wanted her.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He contacted me.”
My hands tightened behind my back.
“And you didn't tell me.”
“I was handling it.”
“By spying on someone under my roof?”
Carlo's voice hardened.
“By protecting you from a woman who entered your home carrying evidence connected to Dominic Vescari.”
Lauren stepped forward.
“I didn't know Carlo—”
He ignored her.
“Arturo, wake up. She used you.”
I looked at Lauren.
Pain flashed across her face.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I did.”
Carlo smiled.
“Finally.”
She continued.
“I came here because I believed Arturo's name would protect me.”
Carlo leaned back.
“There.”
I said nothing.
Lauren looked at me.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“But I never came here to hurt you.”
“I know.”
Carlo's expression changed.
“You know?”
“I know.”
“Based on what? Her pretty eyes?”
Vincent shifted.
I remained still.
“Careful.”
My uncle stared at me.
Then laughed once.
“So it's true.”
“What?”
“You're compromised.”
Lauren flinched.
I didn't.
“What did you do with the ledger page?” I asked.
Carlo's eyes cooled.
“Destroyed it.”
Lauren whispered, “You're lying.”
His gaze cut toward her.
“You have no idea who you're speaking to.”
She surprised both of us.
“I know exactly who I'm speaking to. A man who sold someone else's life because he thought his last name gave him permission.”
Carlo stood.
I moved between them.
Not because Lauren needed protection from his words.
Because I saw his hand shift.
“Sit down.”
Carlo stared at me.
“Arturo.”
“Sit.”
Slowly, he obeyed.
“Why help Vescari?”
“I didn't.”
“You gave him the page.”
“I destroyed it.”
“Then prove it.”
He said nothing.
That was enough.
Vincent moved toward him.
Carlo's composure finally cracked.
“Don't be stupid.”
I looked at him.
“Where is it?”
“Arturo, Vescari offered peace.”
I laughed.
There was no humor in it.
“Peace?”
“He wants the records and the girl. In exchange, he leaves our shipping routes untouched.”
Lauren went white.
I felt something inside me become very calm.
“The girl?”
Carlo realized too late what he'd said.
“This isn't personal.”
“It became personal when you negotiated a human being.”
“She is one maid.”
Lauren looked as though he had struck her.
I crossed the distance between us.
Carlo stood again.
“You would risk everything your father built for her?”
The room went silent.
There it was.
The real question.
My father's empire.
My family's expectation.
Every decision I had spent my life making.
All balanced against one woman I'd known for months.
Lauren shook her head.
“Don't.”
I looked at her.
She was crying now.
Not dramatically.
One tear.
Then another.
“Arturo, don't answer him for me.”
Carlo seized the moment.
“Listen to her. She's smarter than you are right now.”
Lauren whispered, “I'm not saying he's right.”
“Then what are you saying?”
She looked directly at me.
“That you don't owe me your entire life because you opened the wrong bedroom door.”
The sentence hit me with absurd force.
That door.
Her music.
Her laugh.
The first warm thing I'd seen in my house in years.
Carlo said, “You hear that?”
I turned toward him.
“Yes.”
“And?”
I finally understood something I should have understood long before Lauren arrived.
My father had built an empire.
But he had also built a cage.
Every enemy became justification for more control.
Every death justified another retaliation.
Every threat required another sacrifice.
Matteo had died inside that cage.
My mother had mourned inside it.
And I had spent eighteen years calling the bars responsibility.
Carlo waited.
I said, “Vescari gets nothing.”
His face darkened.
“Then you're choosing her.”
“No.”
I looked at Lauren.
“I'm choosing what I should have chosen years ago.”
“What is that?”
“My own decisions.”
Carlo's expression shifted from anger to fear.
I turned to Vincent.
“Remove him from every account, property, and operation.”
Carlo surged upright.
“You can't—”
“I just did.”
“Your father would be ashamed of you.”
That one found its mark.
For years, those words could still turn me into a boy standing beneath Gabriel D’Angelo's shadow.
Not anymore.
“My father is dead.”
Carlo stared.
“And I am finished letting dead men run my life.”
Vincent escorted him out.
Lauren remained silent.
When we were alone, she said, “You shouldn't have done that because of me.”
“I didn't.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No. Carlo betrayed me because he believed my empire mattered more than the people inside it.”
“And you disagree?”
I looked around the library.
Twenty-foot shelves.
Imported wood.
A desk worth more than Lauren's yearly salary.
“I'm beginning to.”
She came closer.
“What happens now?”
“We find the ledger page.”
“And my father.”
“Yes.”
“And Dominic?”
“We stop him.”
She gave a weary smile.
“You make that sound easy.”
“It won't be.”
That honesty surprised her.
Then my phone rang.
Vincent.
I answered.
“What?”
His voice was sharp.
“Carlo never made it out of the driveway.”
I looked toward the window.
“What happened?”
“Vescari's men intercepted the transport.”
“How?”
“We're still trying to—”
A second phone rang.
Lauren's.
She stared at the screen.
Unknown number.
My instincts moved immediately.
“Don't answer.”
She already had.
“Hello?”
A male voice came through.
Even from several feet away, I recognized the satisfaction in it.
Dominic Vescari.
“Lauren.”
Her face went still.
“Where's my father?”
Vescari laughed softly.
“So direct.”
“Where is he?”
“Alive.”
“Let me speak to him.”
“No.”
I stepped beside her.
Vescari continued.
“Your employer has been making unfortunate decisions.”
Lauren looked at me.
“What do you want?”
“You know.”
“The records?”
“And you.”
Her breathing hitched.
I took the phone.
“Dominic.”
Silence.
Then, “Arturo.”
“You came to my gate.”
“You stole my collateral.”
“Lauren isn't property.”
“In our world, everyone is something.”
“That's where you're mistaken.”
He chuckled.
“You sound different.”
“I've had an unusual week.”
“I heard.”
“Where's Patrick Bell?”
“Safe.”
“If he's harmed—”
“What? You'll kill me?”
His amusement sharpened.
“That's exactly why you'll lose, Arturo. You're still pretending you're more civilized than the men who built you.”
I looked at Lauren.
Maybe once those words would have provoked me.
Now they sounded tired.
“Tell me where to meet.”
Lauren grabbed my arm.
“No.”
Vescari heard.
“Ah. She's there.”
“What do you want?”
“Midnight. Pier seventeen. Alone.”
“Not happening.”
“Then Patrick Bell disappears forever.”
Lauren closed her eyes.
Vescari added, “Bring Lauren and every record she has.”
The line went dead.
Lauren immediately said, “I'm going.”
“No.”
“You said I get choices.”
“Yes.”
“Then that's mine.”
“I said choices, not suicide.”
“My father has been trapped for years.”
“And Vescari knows you'll trade yourself for him.”
“What would you do if it were Matteo?”
The question stopped me.
She saw it.
“Exactly.”
I looked away.
She stepped in front of me.
“I can't spend the rest of my life wondering whether I could have saved my father.”
“And I won't spend mine knowing I let you walk directly into Vescari's hands.”
Silence.
Then Lauren said the one thing I hadn't expected.
“Why do you care this much?”
I looked at her.
She didn't look away.
“Tell me.”
There were a hundred safe answers.
I chose none of them.
“Because when I walked into your room and saw you dancing, I remembered that life could be something other than surviving until the next enemy arrived.”
Her lips parted.
I continued.
“And every time you speak to me like I'm a man instead of a reputation, I remember it again.”
Lauren's eyes filled.
“Arturo.”
“I don't know what this is.”
I stepped closer.
“I don't know what it becomes.”
Her breathing changed.
“But I know I'm not trading you for anything.”
She stared at me for one long second.
Then she kissed me.
Not dramatically.
Not desperately.
A brief, trembling kiss.
And somehow it shook me harder than any gunshot ever had.
When she pulled away, she whispered, “Then don't make me choose between you and my father.”
I looked at her.
And for the first time that night, I understood the answer.
“We don't choose.”
“What?”
May you like
“We take both of you home.”
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