Chapter 22 Isabella
ISABELLA
I wrap my scarf tighter as Angelica bounces beside me, her mittened hand clutched in mine.
The Christmas lights strung across Fifth Avenue cast a golden glow on her upturned face.
It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten into the spirit of Christmas.
Through Angelica, I’m reminded of the magic of it.
"Can we get a present for Daddy that he doesn't know about?" she asks, her eyes bright.
"That's exactly why we're here. Operation Secret Santa."
It feels surreal shopping with my stepdaughter, planning surprises for Roman.
Just weeks ago, I was terrified of him.
Now I'm helping his daughter pick out his Christmas gift.
"He needs a new watch," Angelica announces. "His is scratched."
I smile. "That's very observant of you."
After three stores and much deliberation, we settle on a sleek leather-banded watch that Angelica insists "looks like Daddy."
I pay, grateful that Roman insisted that I have access to funds despite everything.
"Hot chocolate time?" I ask as we exit the store.
Angelica nods emphatically. "With extra whipped cream!"
We duck into a small bakery, warmth enveloping us instantly. The scents of cinnamon, chocolate, and fresh bread make my stomach growl.
Christmas music plays softly in the background as we find a small table near the window.
"Two hot chocolates, please. One with extra whipped cream," I tell the barista, adding a chocolate croissant for us to share.
While we wait, Angelica chatters about school and her friends' Christmas plans.
Our drinks arrive, Angelica's piled high with whipped cream. She takes a sip, leaving a white mustache that makes me laugh.
"What?" she asks, grinning.
I hand her a napkin. "You've got a little something there, snowman face."
She giggles, and the sound warms me more than the hot chocolate ever could. I hadn’t thought much about having a family.
"Can we wrap these when we get home?" Angelica asks of the presents.
"Of course. Your dad is working late tonight, so we'll have lots of time."
“Look! Toys.” Angelica scampers off to a display of stuffed animals in the corner.
The bakery owner has set up a small Christmas village complete with plush reindeer and polar bears.
She picks up a white bear with a red bow, hugging it to her chest before carefully returning it to its spot.
It feels dangerous, this growing attachment, yet I can't help myself. I want to protect her, to keep her safe from the world her father and I inhabit.
"She's adorable."
I turn to the voice sitting at the table next to me. My breath catches as I recognize her as the woman from the fabric store.
"Agent Olivia Ricci," she says quietly, extending her hand. "We should talk."
I don't take her hand. "You shouldn't be here." My eyes dart to Angelica, still occupied with the toys.
"I'm not here to cause trouble," Agent Ricci says, following my gaze.
"I'm not interested." My voice is steady despite the growing panic. I glance at Roman’s men who guard us from a distance. The last thing I need is them calling Roman. "I've made my choice."
"Have you?" She leans forward. "Or did Roman Ginetti make it for you?"
I meet her eyes. "I'm with my stepdaughter. This isn't the time or place."
"Isabella, your mother's case—"
"Stop." I cut her off, keeping my voice low. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying."
“I have something you’ll want if you’re still interested in finding her killer.”
“Right. At what cost?”
“I’m wondering what you might know about Dominic Vitale.”
"I don't know anything about the Vitales," I say firmly, glancing at Angelica who's still distracted by the Christmas display. "Although I doubt he killed my mother. Now, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave."
Ricci smiles thinly. "You're loyal to La Corona now? That's a quick turnaround for someone who was desperate to escape just weeks ago."
“What choice did I have? You abandoned me. You don’t care about me or my mother’s case.”
She leans closer. "I think you'll change your mind when you hear what I have to say."
"I doubt it."
"Your mother kept a notebook."
I struggle to keep my expression neutral. "She had many notebooks."
"But this one is special. What's in those pages would turn your perfect little Mafia family inside out."
My hands tremble beneath the table. My mother's notebook. I'd forgotten about it until Roman mentioned it. He’d gone to my father asking about it, so he clearly thinks it’s important.
I stare at Agent Ricci, wanting to pull off the same impassive demeanor as Roman. “I doubt it.”
Ricci reaches into her coat and slides a photo across the table. It's the notebook, unmistakable with its worn leather cover and my mother's initials embossed in the corner.
I pull my hand back before touching it. "What do you want?"
"Just information." Her voice drops lower. "About Dominic Vitale. Not your father, not your husband. Just Vitale."
I glance at Angelica, still blissfully unaware as she arranges stuffed animals in the display.
I’m playing with fire here.
What would Roman say if he knew I was talking to an FBI agent right now? After I promised him I wouldn't?
But this is my mother's notebook. Her thoughts, her secrets, possibly even the truth about her death. It’s something he wants to know about too.
"What kind of information?"
"Access. Schedules. Movements. Nothing too scandalous." She shrugs.
I laugh bitterly. “Telling you the brand of liquor they drink could be seen as a betrayal.” I shake my head. “What does it have to do with my mother?"
"Nothing, probably. I just know I have something you want and am willing to hand it over to you… copies, of course, in exchange for information."
I stare at Agent Ricci. "You're wasting your time. I know nothing about Dominic Vitale's movements or schedules."
"I find that hard to believe." Ricci's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "La Corona families socialize regularly."
"As an FBI agent, you should understand how this works.
" I lean forward slightly. "I'm a woman in an arranged marriage.
Do you think they invite me to sit in on their meetings?
Do you think my husband comes home and details his day to me?
I'm decorating Christmas cookies and picking out holiday dresses, not planning shipments. "
Ricci's expression shifts. "But you and Elena Vitale have become close, haven't you? She visits your home. You talk."
My stomach drops. They've been watching me. Watching my home. Watching Angelica.
"We discuss children and recipes," I reply coldly. "Not family business."
"Elena trusts you," Ricci presses. "She's shared things with you about the families."
I think of Elena's kindness, her warning about the men of La Corona. The way she's been the only one to truly welcome me. The thought of betraying that nascent friendship makes me sick.
“She doesn’t know any more about business than I do. Really, Agent Ricci, you should know that women are kept out of that.” I glance at Angelica, who's now watching us curiously. "You should leave. Now."
"Your mother would be disappointed," Ricci says quietly. "She risked everything to protect you from this life."
The mention of my mother sends a spike of anger through me.
I glare at Agent Ricci, a cold fury replacing my fear.
The audacity of this woman to use my mother's death, my deepest wound, as leverage.
"How dare you," I hiss. "You sit here and dangle my dead mother's memories like bait? You think I'm that desperate?"
Ricci's expression falters slightly.
"My mother would be disappointed?" I lean forward.
"You didn't know her. You have no right to speak for her.
I've spent a year trying to find out what happened to her, and all that time the FBI has been holding her notebook?
And now you want to trade it for information that could get people killed? "
I shake my head in disgust. "I won't be your pawn. I won't be Blackwood's pawn. And I certainly won't betray the only person who's shown me genuine kindness since I got caught up in your scheme.”
Ricci purses her lips at me. “Mrs. Ginetti—”
"You people claim to be better than the Mafia," I say, my voice quiet but cutting.
"But at least they're honest about who they are.
You hide behind badges while using the same tactics.
My mother's death isn't a bargaining chip. I shouldn’t have to risk my life doing your job to get justice for my mother. "
Something shifts in her expression. A flicker of shame, perhaps. She reaches into her satchel and places a small package on the table. "You're right. This belongs to you."
I stare at the package wondering what it is. It probably has some sort of recording or tracking device.
"It's a copy of your mother’s notebook. No strings attached."
I hesitate, certain there's a catch. "Why?"
"Because you're right." Ricci stands, adjusting her scarf. "Some lines shouldn't be crossed, even in our line of work."
She walks away without another word.
I clutch the package tightly as we exit the bakery. Angelica skips beside me, oblivious to the turmoil swirling inside me.
"Who was that lady you were talking to?"
My stomach tightens. "Just someone who thought she knew me." I squeeze her hand. "Let's hurry home. It's getting cold."
The entire car ride back, the package taunts me. Part of me wants to tear it open immediately, yet another part wants to throw it into the East River, afraid of what I might learn.
Was my father a part of my mother’s death?
Was Roman?
I feel like reading it will change everything, and right now, everything is good.
Back at the apartment, Mrs. Rossi takes Angelica to wash up before dinner. I lock myself in the bedroom, hands trembling as I finally unwrap the package. Inside, I find a folder filled with copied pages from my mother’s notebook.
I read the first page, her elegant handwriting filling the lines.
October 3 - E approached me today. Claims he can help Isabella escape this life. Says he has FBI connections. Don't trust him, but running out of options. Leo won't budge on the arrangement.
My breath catches. E must be Ernie Abruzzo. Who was his FBI contact? Blackwood? Ricci? Someone else?
I flip forward several pages.
October 15 - E says FBI agent willing to help, but wants information in return. Dangerous game. Learned E has a brother in Calabresi family. Is E playing both sides—tells FBI one thing, tells S another? Does S know? Can I risk being used like this to save Isabella?
S has to be Salvatore. Did he know Ernie was an informant?
October 28 - Meeting with E and agent tomorrow. Have to be careful. Not sure Leo can save me if I’m found out.
I’m unable to read on knowing the end of this tale. My heart breaks.
My mother was playing a dangerous game, all in an effort to help me leave the family fold and live my own life.
Ernie was working with the FBI, and perhaps using Salvatore and my mother as a source of information.
I wonder if Salvatore would be so grieved at his brother’s demise if he knew the truth about Ernie.
Unless Salvatore was part of it too, although that seems unlikely. He’s a made man through and through. Like Roman.
One thing is clear. Ernie was playing with fire and my mother got burned.