CHAPTER 40
"There are houses where you were born that you return to only once. I knew which was mine, and I knew why I was going."
LUCA MORETTI
The baptism photo was still turned against the bookshelf.
I'd thought about turning it back three times since the night of the execution. Every time, I stopped my hand halfway. Carlo in the light gray suit, Salvatore in black, my father in the center. There was nowhere to look in that photo that didn't hurt.
The house was silent.
Four days without Valentina, without the nonna, without Matteo. Without Donna Beatrice in the same rhythm—she'd stayed, but she moved more slowly through the halls, stopping short all of a sudden.
Tonio was buried in Caserta on Thursday, and I went to the funeral. I shook the widow's hand, paid off the mortgage on her house, and left before the coffee at the memorial.
Raffaele came into the study without knocking.
"Fratellone. They're arriving. Aniello first."
"Va bene."
I picked up the ring.
It had been in the inside pocket of my jacket since the night before. Valentina had left it on the nightstand in the rush to leave for Capri.
"Andiamo."
The three vassals came in within fifteen minutes of one another.
Don Aniello, sixty, bald, short, from the Casoria family—he'd owed me a favor since 2017.
Don Esposito, fifty, tall, thin, Pomigliano, a fabric merchant on the outside and a smuggler underneath.
Don Ferraro, forty-nine, Salerno, new house but old money, heir to the old Ferraro my father had been fond of.
"In October, Salvatore Rossi sent three men to kill my wife and my nonna inside this house. They killed Tonio and wounded the nonna at the temple." I set the coffee down on the saucer. "In seven days I go to Mondello."
Aniello nodded once.
Esposito nodded twice.
Ferraro hesitated.
"Padrone, with respect. Salvatore is a capo of the Cosa Nostra. This is outside our territory."
"The Cosa Nostra in Palermo abandoned Salvatore two years ago, Ferraro.
" I took the folder from the desk and opened it, showing the document Acquaviva had brought in September—before I knew he was a traitor.
That document was real. "I asked the Capo dei Capi for Wednesday.
I had my answer yesterday. La famiglia non muove un dito. They won't move."
Ferraro read it and nodded.
"Va bene, padrone."
"I'm not asking for men. I'm asking for silence on the roads between Naples and Palermo on Thursday and Friday. And rear shelter in Caserta and Salerno if I have to run."
The three gave their word. By blood, the old way.
I walked them to the gate, shook their hands, and watched the three cars go down the ramp.