Chapter 5 - THE BELLUCCI NAME
Anthony did not deny it.
That frightened me more than another argument would have.
Roman’s voice was almost gentle.
“You went after Thomas.”
Anthony looked at me first.
“I went to speak to him.”
“That isn’t what Frank said.”
Frank lifted both palms.
“I said Carlo sent him. I never said what happened after.”
Roman waited.
Anthony stared at the table.
“Thomas was living above this bakery.”
My heart thudded.
“He had Clare,” Anthony continued. “She was fourteen.”
I remembered that year.
My father changing the locks.
My father checking the alley before walking home.
I had thought it was because someone had broken into the pharmacy two blocks away.
Anthony’s voice became quieter.
“I told Thomas Carlo wanted the photograph and Elena’s letters.”
“What letters?”
“Letters between Elena and Luca.”
Lily stiffened.
“Mom kept letters?”
“Copies,” Anthony said. “Thomas had originals.”
Roman’s face hardened.
“You threatened him.”
Anthony looked angry now.
“At first.”
I stood.
“At first?”
“He told me Clare was upstairs.”
Something about the way he said my name made old memories shift.
The quiet voices downstairs.
My father coming up after midnight.
A bruise along his jaw he said came from slipping near the ovens.
“You were here.”
“Yes.”
I wanted to hate him cleanly.
It would have been easier.
“What stopped you?”
Anthony’s answer surprised everyone.
“Thomas made coffee.”
I stared at him.
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
Frank almost smiled.
Anthony ignored him.
“He put a cup in front of me and said if I was going to ruin his daughter’s life, I could at least do it while sitting down.”
That sounded exactly like my father.
My anger hurt worse.
Anthony continued.
“Then he showed me the letters.”
Roman stepped closer.
“And?”
“And I realized Carlo lied to me too.”
Silence.
“Luca wasn’t using Elena,” Anthony said. “The letters were ordinary. Stupid, sometimes. They argued about music. Apartments. Baby names.”
Lily stared down at her bracelet.
“He wanted to name me?”
“Rose.”
Her nose wrinkled.
“My mom would never.”
Anthony’s mouth almost smiled.
“She said the same thing.”
For one second, he became human.
Then Roman asked, “What did you do with the letters?”
“I left them with Thomas.”
Roman’s stare sharpened.
“You disobeyed Carlo.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because by then Elena had a baby, Thomas had a daughter upstairs, and I finally understood that all the men making decisions about protecting family were mostly protecting themselves.”
Sophia looked away.
Nobody escaped that sentence.
Lily held the photograph closer.
“Then why did you keep lying?”
Anthony’s expression hardened again.
“Because lies don’t disappear when you regret them. They become structures.”
Roman stared at him.
Anthony gestured toward the window, toward Chicago beyond it.
“Carlo was boss. Thomas was already marked as disloyal. The Belluccis believed Luca had abandoned Elena. Our capos believed Bellucci interference at Pier 16 had caused the dock dispute. By the time I understood the truth, correcting it meant admitting the entire family had been organized around a lie.”
Roman’s voice went cold.
“So you protected the organization.”
“Yes.”
“Over Thomas.”
“Yes.”
“Over Elena.”
Anthony hesitated.
“Yes.”
Lily stood.
“And over me.”
Anthony said nothing.
She walked away from the table.
Roman moved to follow.
I shook my head.
He stopped.
Progress.
I found Lily outside near the river.
She was standing beside a rusted railing.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Reasonable.”
She looked at me.
“Do you always talk like that?”
“Only before noon.”
She almost smiled.
Then the smile vanished.
“Everybody keeps saying they protected me.”
“I noticed.”
“But nobody asked what I wanted.”
“You were a baby.”
“I mean now.”
That landed.
“What do you want?”
She stared across the river.
“I want to know what my dad looked like when he laughed.”
My chest tightened.
Not territory.
Not power.
Not heritage.
A laugh.
Before I could answer, Roman stepped outside.
He kept several feet between them.
“Lily.”
She didn’t turn.
Roman looked at me.
I gave him nothing.
This one was his.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Lily finally faced him.
“For what part?”
“All of it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
He swallowed.
“For believing being responsible for you meant making every decision before you had to feel it.”
She watched him.
Roman’s voice lowered.
“I don’t know what Luca Bellucci’s laugh sounded like.”
Her face fell.
“But I know someone who might.”
Anthony had followed us.
Roman looked at him.
“Victor Bellucci.”
Lily went still.
Her grandfather.
The head of the rival family.
Roman’s oldest enemy.
Anthony shook his head immediately.
“No.”
Roman didn’t even look at him.
Lily whispered, “He’s alive?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know about me?”
Nobody answered.
That was answer enough.
Two hours later, Roman held what people in his world apparently called a sit-down.
It took place in the private dining room of an old Italian restaurant closed to the public until dinner.
Roman sat at one end.
Victor Bellucci sat at the other.
Gray hair.
Heavy shoulders.
A face that looked carved from old grief.
Three men stood behind him.
Three behind Roman.
Enzo sat at Roman’s right.
Anthony was not invited to sit.
That said more about his current position than anything else.
I sat beside Lily because she had asked me to.
Victor Bellucci stared at her for almost a full minute.
His eyes filled.
He made no move toward her.
Good.
Lily touched the bee bracelet.
Victor whispered, “Elena kept it.”
Roman’s gaze sharpened.
“You recognize it.”
“My son gave it to her.”
Lily spoke.
“Luca?”
Victor nodded.
“He bought it from a street fair because he didn’t have enough money for the necklace she wanted.”
Lily almost laughed.
“My mom hated expensive jewelry.”
“I know.”
Victor smiled sadly.
“That was the first thing I liked about her.”
Roman looked unsettled by the warmth.
So was I.
Enemies were supposed to be easier than this.
Lily asked the only question that mattered.
“What happened to my father?”
Victor’s face changed.
“He died four months before you were born.”
Lily’s eyes closed.
“How?”
“A construction accident in New Jersey.”
No conspiracy.
No murder.
No grand Mafia twist.
Just a young man who never knew he had a daughter.
Victor reached into his coat slowly.
Every guard in the room changed posture.
Roman’s hand lifted slightly.
Victor stopped.
“Photograph.”
Roman gave one nod.
Victor removed a picture.
Luca Bellucci at maybe twenty-three.
Dark curls.
Crooked grin.
A ridiculous floral shirt.
Lily stared at it.
Then laughed through tears.
“He really did have terrible shirts.”
Sophia had been right.
Victor’s mouth trembled.
“He had an awful laugh too.”
“What kind?”
“Too loud.”
Lily smiled.
Victor pushed the photograph across the table.
“It’s yours.”
Lily took it.
For a few seconds, there were no families.
No rivals.
Only a girl looking at her father.
Then Victor looked at Roman.
“I want to know my granddaughter.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
Lily immediately said, “That’s my decision.”
Both Mafia bosses turned toward her.
She held Luca’s photograph against her chest.
Victor nodded first.
“Yes.”
Roman took longer.
Then he nodded too.
“Yes.”
Anthony, standing near the wall, exhaled.
Victor noticed him.
His entire expression changed.
“There is one thing you should know.”
Roman looked over.
Victor’s eyes stayed on Anthony.
“Your cousin came to me six months ago.”
Anthony’s face drained.
Roman became very still.
“For what?”
Victor answered.
“He offered me Pier 16.”
Enzo stood.
May you like
Roman slowly turned toward Anthony.
And whatever fragile peace had existed in the room disappeared.
