Chapter 6 - THE COST OF A LIE
Anthony walked out before Roman could stop him.
Not ran.
Not fled.
He simply looked at Roman, understood what had changed, and left the restaurant.
Roman did not order anyone after him.
That surprised everyone.
Especially Enzo.
“Boss?”
Roman remained seated.
“No.”
Enzo’s expression sharpened.
“He just left after Bellucci accused him of offering our docks.”
“I heard him.”
“We should bring him back.”
Roman looked at Lily.
“No more dragging people into rooms and calling it protection.”
Victor Bellucci gave him a long look.
I realized Roman’s decision was not weakness.
It was restraint.
Anthony had spent seventeen years helping build Roman’s organization.
Half the trucking captains trusted him.
Three union stewards owed their careers to him.
Several capos had worked under Anthony before Roman ever became boss.
If Roman treated him like an ordinary traitor, the family could split by dinner.
Victor folded his hands.
“He offered limited access.”
“When?”
“March.”
“For what?”
Victor looked toward Lily.
“That was the problem.”
Roman’s voice hardened.
“Explain.”
“Anthony wanted my promise that the Bellucci family would never publicly claim Lily.”
Lily stared at him.
Victor continued.
“He believed if her parentage became known, certain people would use it to argue for an alliance.”
“Would you?” Roman asked.
“Seventeen years ago? Yes.”
Victor did not pretend to be better than he had been.
“Today?”
Victor looked at Lily.
“Today I am an old man who missed every birthday.”
Lily’s eyes dropped.
That answer felt true.
Roman asked, “Did you accept Anthony’s offer?”
“No.”
Enzo frowned.
“Why?”
“Because Pier 16 is worth money.”
Victor’s expression hardened.
“My son was worth more.”
The room went silent.
“I wanted the truth,” he said. “Not a warehouse.”
Roman leaned back.
“So Anthony risked our territory to preserve the lie.”
“Yes.”
Victor stood.
“I’ll give you time with your family.”
Lily looked up.
“Can I keep the picture?”
Victor’s face softened.
“It was always yours.”
When Bellucci left, Roman finally moved.
He stood and faced Enzo.
“Call the capos.”
“For when?”
“Tonight.”
Sophia rose.
“Roman, be careful.”
He looked at her.
“I spent seventeen years being careful with the wrong things.”
Back at Honey & Rye, I expected Roman to leave.
Instead, he sat at the smallest table in my bakery while I prepared the next morning’s dough.
Apparently Mafia crises did not cancel brioche.
Lily sat nearby drawing on a paper bag.
Roman stared at his coffee.
“You’re terrible company,” I told him.
“I’ve been told worse today.”
“Deservedly?”
“Yes.”
That answer caught me off guard.
I dusted flour across the counter.
“Anthony had a reason.”
Roman looked up.
“So did my father.”
“That doesn’t make what they did right.”
“No.”
“But it makes it harder to hate them.”
Roman watched me.
“Do you hate me?”
My hands stopped.
“You made my father’s life harder.”
“Yes.”
“You believed something convenient instead of asking difficult questions.”
“Yes.”
“You walked into my bakery knowing exactly who I was.”
“Yes.”
“You offered to pay me to pretend to date you.”
A faint line appeared between his eyebrows.
“That now seems less significant.”
“It remains deeply annoying.”
His mouth almost smiled.
Then he looked down.
“I was twenty-five when Thomas left.”
“That’s old enough to know better.”
“Yes.”
Again, no defense.
I hated that it made forgiveness imaginable.
Not immediate.
Not cheap.
But imaginable.
Across the room, Lily suddenly said, “Clare?”
“Yes?”
“Was your dad nice?”
I looked at the dough beneath my hands.
“He was impatient.”
Lily smiled.
“He burned toast, which is embarrassing for a professional baker.”
Roman looked over.
“He cheated at cards.”
I stared at him.
“You played cards with my father?”
“Every Thursday for a year.”
That hurt.
And warmed something at the same time.
“What else?”
Roman leaned back.
“He sang badly.”
“He did.”
“He hated olives.”
“He told everyone he was allergic.”
“He wasn’t.”
“I know.”
Lily watched both of us.
For the first time, the past sounded like people instead of evidence.
Then Sophia entered carrying a small wooden rosary.
She walked directly to me.
“I need to give you something.”
Roman stood.
Sophia opened her hand.
A signet ring rested against the beads.
Heavy gold.
A black stone engraved with a D.
Roman stared.
“That was my father’s.”
“I know.”
“He said Thomas stole it.”
Sophia’s eyes filled.
“No.”
She placed the ring in my palm.
“Carlo gave it to Thomas at Pier 16.”
Roman looked shaken.
“Why?”
“As proof Thomas was acting under his authority.”
I turned the ring.
Inside was a tiny engraving.
Three words.
PROTECT THE GIRL.
Lily stood.
“Me?”
Sophia nodded.
Roman stared at his father’s ring.
“So he protected Lily and destroyed Thomas.”
“He thought he could do both.”
“That isn’t protection.”
“No.”
Sophia’s shoulders lowered.
“I know that now.”
I closed my fingers around the ring.
“Why did you have this?”
“Thomas returned it to me.”
“When?”
“Eight years ago.”
My breath caught.
My father died seven years ago.
“He came to you?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“He wasn’t asking for his name back.”
Sophia looked at Lily.
“He wanted to know if she was safe.”
My throat tightened.
Sophia’s next words hurt even more.
“I told him she was.”
Lily whispered, “He cared about me?”
“He kept your first hospital photograph for nine years.”
Sophia turned to Roman.
“And he asked me to give you a message if the truth ever came out.”
Roman’s face tightened.
“What message?”
Sophia’s hand trembled around the rosary.
“He said, ‘Tell Roman I forgive the boy he was. I don’t forgive the man if he chooses the lie again.’”
Roman lowered his eyes.
Nobody spoke.
Then Enzo appeared at the bakery door.
His face told us something had happened.
Roman turned.
“What?”
“Anthony called the capos before we did.”
Roman went still.
Enzo continued.
“Four trucking crews stopped moving.”
Sophia whispered, “Oh God.”
“Three union stewards are refusing orders until this is settled.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
Enzo lowered his voice.
“Anthony is calling a family council.”
Roman stared at him.
“He doesn’t have authority to call one.”
“He says he does.”
“On what grounds?”
Enzo looked at Lily.
Then Clare.
“He says you’re risking Duca territory to clear a dead baker’s name and satisfy a Bellucci granddaughter.”
Lily’s face went white.
Roman’s eyes turned colder than I had ever seen them.
May you like
Enzo finished quietly.
“And half the room plans to listen.”
