Chapter 15 Roman
ROMAN
I slam the bedroom door behind me, fury still coursing through my veins. Christ. The look on Isabella's face—pure terror. Like I was about to put a bullet in her head.
I rub my hand over my face. I scared her. Badly. Good, says the cold, calculating part of me. Let her be afraid. Let her understand what's at stake.
But something else gnaws at me. Something that feels uncomfortably like guilt.
At forty-five years old, I should know better than to let emotions cloud my judgment. I've survived this long by keeping my head clear, by making rational decisions.
And yet here I am, caught between wanting to protect this woman and wanting to shake her until she understands the danger she's in, the danger she's putting us all in.
How easily I've been swayed by her wide eyes, her apparent innocence.
Her body against mine.
Pathetic.
I've become a fucking teenager, thinking with my dick instead of my brain.
I head to my office. This isn't about Isabella anymore.
This is about Angelica.
About Marco.
About my responsibilities.
I can't afford to be soft because a beautiful woman made me feel something I haven't felt in years.
The evidence against her is there. The phone, her connection to Blackwood, her refusal to come clean until I forced her hand.
And yet her confusion about Ernie seemed genuine. The fear in her eyes when I confronted her wasn't an act.
Is she playing me? Or is she being played?
Either way, I've been a fool. I've let my guard down, allowed myself to hope that maybe she could be something more than an assignment. Something more than a potential threat to eliminate.
I need to remember who I am. What I am. The enforcer. The man who does what needs to be done, no matter the cost.
Even if that cost is whatever has been growing between Isabella and me.
I pace the length of my office, fury and disappointment warring inside me.
Everything changed the moment Sal mentioned Ernie's connection to Isabella's mother. Pieces began clicking together in a way they didn’t when Vinny mentioned the possibility.
I'd defended her. Like a fucking idiot, I'd stood there and told Sal he was wrong.
But then he showed me the photos. Isabella's mother with Ernie in a café. At a park. Getting into his car. The timestamps matched the weeks before her murder.
The facade of innocence I'd built around Isabella crumbled. Every hesitation, every time she'd held back information, it wasn't fear or confusion. It was calculation.
"She knows more than she's letting on, Roman," Sal had said, his eyes hard with certainty. "Ernie was in deep with Mrs. Ferraza before she died.”
“Why didn’t you say anything to Marco?” I asked him.
“Who says I didn’t?”
That made me pause. Would Salvatore have told Marco what Ernie was up to?
If so, why hasn’t Marco said a word?
Macro doesn’t owe me anything, but I’m his right hand man.
The one he bounces ideas or concerns off, and he never once mentioned Mrs. Ferraza meeting with Ernie.
“What makes you think Isabella knows anything about that?”
Sal rolled his eyes. “Why do you think she was meeting with Ernie? She wanted her daughter out of this life.”
“So you knew your brother was talking with the Feds and Marco knew about it?” I couldn’t wrap my head around that.
“Sometimes informing goes both ways. Look, I know my brother was a dipshit, but he agreed to share what he learned from the FBI and gave the Feds shitty info on us.”
“How did Mrs. Ferraza fit in?”
Sal shrugged. “I guess she heard he was talking to the Feds and thought he could help.” His eyes darken.
“And because of her, my brother is dead. You know as well as I do that Ferraza’s favorite death is drugs.
He’s like a fucking euthanizer. And then his daughter is talking to the Feds, handing over real info…
That can’t stand, Ginetti, and you know it. ”
I need a fucking drink. The burn feels appropriate.
I've spent my life reading people. It's how I've survived. How I've protected Marco and the family.
And somehow, I let this woman slip past my defenses.
Isabella isn't just a daughter seeking justice. She's been playing me, all of La Corona, from the start.
The virginal act, the reluctant spy turned willing wife, all part of her game.
Get close to me, get information, maybe even manipulate me into turning against Marco.
Christ, I almost fell for it.
How many times did I wonder if I could follow through on his order if he demanded that I kill her?
Was I really thinking I’d go against my brother for her?
I down the whiskey in one swallow. The woman sleeping in my bed, who teaches sewing to my daughter, who made me feel something I thought died with Emilia, has been lying to my face.
The enforcer in me knows what needs to happen. The father in me knows what's at stake.
Whatever Isabella's endgame is, whatever she and Blackwood are planning, it ends now. No more letting my guard down. No more believing her tears or her touch.
From this moment on, Isabella Ferraza is nothing more than a threat to neutralize.
I drop into my desk chair and pull out a fresh notepad, needing to organize the chaos in my head. This isn't just about Isabella anymore. There's a bigger picture I'm missing.
I write ERNIE AbrUZZO at the top of the page and circle it twice.
That piece of shit is dead, but he's still causing problems.
How did Mrs. Ferraza even know him? What would drive a Mafia wife to associate with a wannabe like Ernie? One who was talking to the Feds?
She had to know how dangerous that was.
I sketch a quick timeline, marking Mrs. Ferraza's death and Ernie's "overdose" just days apart. Not a coincidence. Never is in our world.
Why trust Ernie? I write and underline it.
Mrs. Ferraza was smart. She had to be to survive as Leonardo's wife all those years.
She wouldn't risk everything by meeting with Ernie unless she was desperate. The photos Sal showed me confirmed multiple meetings.
I tap my pen against the paper. She wanted to keep Isabella from an arranged marriage. Was she planning to run? Take Isabella away from this life?
If so, Ernie was the worst possible choice for help. The man was a parasite, always looking for an angle. He'd sell out his own mother for a chance to get in with any of the families. Fuck, he was probably selling them to traffickers.
Unless she chose him because he was connected but not respected.
Who’d believe him over a respected Don’s wife?
As an informant, if she knew about that, he’d have access to the Feds to help her escape, which is what Isabella was hoping for when her attempt to find out about her mother backfired.
I wonder why Agent Blackwood didn’t share the photos of her mother with Isabella? He only shared so-called evidence against the Calabresi family. Why?
I again focus on Mrs. Ferraza and Ernie, feeling like they’re the linchpin. That if I could find out what happened between them and to them, everything would make sense.
I write, Mrs. F using Ernie? Or Ernie using her?
And below that, Who benefited from both deaths?
I stare at the question, feeling like I'm circling something important. The pieces are there, but I can't see the full picture yet.
I push the notepad away and lean back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. The whiskey's burn has faded, but I don’t pour more. Not yet.
Leonardo killing his own wife? The thought keeps circling back, but it doesn't track. Not in our world. Not with our rules.
In all the years I've served the Calabresi family, one principle has remained sacred.
La Corona operates on trust.
The four families maintain peace precisely because we don't move against each other without consensus. It's what separates us from the chaotic street gangs and upstart organizations that rise and fall practically daily.
If Leonardo had wanted his wife dead, he would have brought it to La Corona. He would have made his case.
And if the other families agreed, it would have been handled cleanly, quietly, not with shell casings left behind and witnesses who could place a Calabresi car at the scene.
No. Leonardo didn't kill his wife.
Not without approval from Marco, Dominic, and Antonio.
And Marco would have told me.
Which brings me back to Blackwood. I've never met him, but I know his type.
Self-righteous. Ambitious. Dangerous.
What's his angle in all this? Did he approach Mrs. Ferraza before her death, maybe through Ernie, and turn her into an informant too?
Or did he only enter the picture afterward, using her murder as leverage to manipulate Isabella?
If he was involved before, that would explain why Mrs. Ferraza was meeting with Ernie.
Maybe she was gathering information to trade for protection.
For a way out for herself and Isabella.
But if Blackwood only showed up after her death, then who killed her? Who made it look like a Calabresi hit?
And what is his game? Sure, he wants to rid the city of people like me, but how far will he go?
The bastard is clearly using Isabella, feeding her just enough "evidence" to keep her on the hook while ensuring she stays right where he wants her, in the heart of La Corona.
I'm still staring at my notes when the door to my office opens. Isabella stands in the doorway, her face pale but composed.
She looks younger. More vulnerable.
And yet there's defiance in the set of her jaw, in the way she meets my gaze without flinching.
"Here." She steps forward and places the phone on my desk. "Take it."
I don't move to pick it up. "Why now?"
"Because you're right. I can't have it both ways."
I lean back in my chair, studying her. "What changed your mind?"
"Nothing changed. I just…" She exhales in frustration. "I never had choices, Roman. Not real ones. My entire life has been decided for me. Who I could be friends with. What I could study. Who I would marry." She gestures between us. "This wasn't my choice either."