Chapter 4 - THE TRAITOR AT ISABELLA’S TABLE
At 6:30 the next morning, Isabella called a meeting.
Not at the townhouse.
At St. Michael’s Social Club, a place her father had used when he wanted everyone entering a room to understand that family business came before comfort.
Twelve Caruso captains arrived.
Carlo Russo came with six of his own.
Every phone went into a steel box by the door.
Every weapon stayed with its owner.
Trust had limits.
Isabella stood at the head of the table.
Sofia sat to her right.
Bruised but upright.
Vincent beside her.
Rosa and Mateo were not there.
Isabella had moved them to a safe house before dawn with two guards Luca trusted with his life.
Adrian did not know where.
That was the idea.
Isabella looked around the table.
“One of you gave Adrian access to my house.”
No one spoke.
“He knew the service tunnels.”
Nothing.
“He knew Vincent’s route.”
Still nothing.
“He knew Sofia’s schedule.”
A captain named Salvatore Greco frowned.
“You think one of us helped him?”
“I know one of you did.”
Carlo Russo shifted.
“My son had eighteen months inside your family.”
“He had eighteen months inside my dining room. He did not have access to vehicle maintenance schedules.”
Vincent leaned forward.
“Or the basement plans.”
Isabella looked at each face.
Men she had known for years.
Men who had carried her father’s coffin.
Men who had toasted her engagement.
One was lying.
Maybe more.
She nodded toward Luca.
He placed six photographs on the table.
Images from traffic cameras around Vincent’s mechanic.
A black sedan appeared in three.
License plate obscured.
But one photograph caught the driver stepping out.
Caruso captain Anthony Barone.
Anthony stared.
“That proves nothing.”
Isabella looked at him.
“Then explain it.”
“I know the mechanic.”
“At 2:14 in the morning?”
Anthony stood.
“This is insulting.”
“So sit down before it becomes something else.”
His chair remained empty.
Wrong choice.
Luca moved two steps closer.
Anthony’s eyes flicked toward the exit.
And Isabella knew.
“Sit.”
Anthony drew.
Vincent flipped the table.
Gunfire exploded.
Men scattered.
Luca fired once.
Anthony’s weapon dropped from his hand.
A bullet had torn through his forearm.
He screamed.
Isabella walked around the overturned table.
“Anybody else?”
No one moved.
Anthony clutched his arm.
“Go to hell.”
Isabella crouched in front of him.
“Who opened the tunnel?”
He laughed through clenched teeth.
“You really think Adrian needed me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because cowards outsource risk.”
Anthony’s smile disappeared.
Isabella continued.
“You sabotaged Vincent’s car.”
Silence.
“You gave Sofia’s schedule.”
Anthony looked away.
“And you opened my basement.”
He spat blood where he had bitten his cheek.
“You were never supposed to find her.”
Sofia stood.
Anthony looked up.
For the first time, shame crossed his face.
Sofia said, “I brought food to your wife when she was sick.”
He closed his eyes.
“Don’t.”
“I sat with your daughter at the hospital.”
“Stop.”
“You let him put me underground.”
Anthony’s jaw trembled.
“I owed money.”
Vincent swore.
“Gambling?”
Anthony shook his head.
“My son.”
The room changed.
Isabella remained still.
“What about him?”
“He got arrested in Jersey. Pills. Distribution. Adrian made it disappear.”
Carlo Russo’s head snapped up.
“What?”
Anthony looked at him.
“Your son owns cops you don’t know about.”
Carlo went pale.
Anthony looked back at Isabella.
“He told me if I didn’t help, my boy would do fifteen years.”
“So you traded my family for yours.”
Anthony began crying.
A grown man.
A captain.
Sixty years old.
“I thought nobody would die.”
Vincent laughed in disbelief.
“My brake line was cut.”
“He said you’d be injured. Not killed.”
Sofia whispered, “And me?”
Anthony looked down.
“He said you’d be released after the wedding.”
Isabella stood.
“You believed him?”
“No.”
That answer surprised everyone.
Anthony looked up.
“I wanted to.”
There was the truth.
People rarely betrayed families because they believed a lie completely.
They betrayed because the lie offered them permission to do what fear already wanted.
Isabella said, “Who else?”
Anthony hesitated.
Luca stepped forward.
Anthony shook his head.
“Two Russo captains. Maybe three. Adrian has men from Philadelphia coming through Pier Thirty-Six.”
Carlo stared at his own captains.
Every man suddenly distrusted every other man.
Exactly what Adrian wanted.
“What’s supposed to happen at eleven?” Isabella asked.
Anthony swallowed.
“He’s going to kill Carlo.”
Carlo’s face hardened.
“Me?”
Anthony nodded.
“Make it look like Caruso men did it.”
Isabella understood immediately.
Carlo dead.
Adrian becomes head of Russo family.
Russo soldiers retaliate against Caruso.
Then Adrian appears as the only man who can “restore order.”
Vincent said it aloud.
“He gets both families.”
Anthony nodded.
“And Isabella?”
Anthony looked at her.
“She dies tonight.”
Silence.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
“I swear.”
Isabella stared until he broke eye contact.
Then Luca’s secure phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His face changed.
“What?”
The safe house.
Isabella knew before he spoke.
Luca lowered the phone.
“The guards aren’t answering.”
Isabella grabbed her coat.
“When was last contact?”
“Eight minutes ago.”
Sofia stood.
“Mateo?”
“We don’t know.”
Rosa had told Isabella not to treat her like furniture.
She had promised the boy he was safe.
Eight minutes.
That was all it took to break a promise.
The safe house was twelve minutes away.
Isabella made it in nine.
The front door was open.
One guard lay unconscious in the foyer.
Alive.
The second was in the kitchen.
Also alive.
Drugged.
No blood.
“ROSA!”
No answer.
“Mateo!”
She ran upstairs.
Empty bedroom.
Bathroom.
Closet.
Then Luca found the back window open.
A rope hung down toward the alley.
Isabella’s stomach dropped.
“No.”
A tiny sound came from beneath the bed.
She froze.
“Mateo?”
A hand appeared.
Then the boy crawled out.
Isabella crossed the room.
“Where is your mother?”
Mateo’s face crumpled.
“They took her.”
“What happened?”
“They knocked on the door.”
“Who?”
“A lady.”
“Did you know her?”
“No.”
“She said what?”
“She said Ms. Sofia sent her.”
Mateo wiped his face.
“Mom didn’t open the door. Then the lights went off.”
Luca checked the window.
“They came through the back.”
Mateo continued.
“Mom pushed me under the bed.”
“Did they see you?”
He shook his head.
“She told me not to move.”
Isabella crouched.
“You did good.”
“They took her because of me.”
“No.”
“She told on Mr. Adrian because of me.”
Isabella put both hands on his shoulders.
“Listen to me.”
Mateo tried not to cry.
“Your mother told the truth because that is who she is. Adrian took her because that is who he is.”
The boy’s lip trembled.
“Are you going to find her?”
Isabella thought of Sofia beneath the house.
Three knocks.
Rosa walking into the engagement dinner.
A maid everyone expected to stay silent.
She looked Mateo directly in the eyes.
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
Isabella rarely made promises.
Promises created leverage.
Expectations.
Weakness.
Then she remembered what kind of woman she wanted Mateo to believe powerful people could be.
“I promise.”
Her phone rang.
Adrian.
She answered.
His voice was cheerful.
“Good morning, Bella.”
“If you hurt her—”
“Now you understand.”
“Understand what?”
“What it feels like when someone ordinary suddenly becomes important.”
Isabella’s expression hardened.
“Rosa was important before you took her.”
A pause.
Then Adrian laughed.
“That’s why you were never going to survive as my wife.”
“You seem confused. There is no wedding.”
“Still is.”
“Not to me.”
“No.”
His voice lowered.
“To the city.”
Isabella frowned.
“At eleven, both families are going to learn what loyalty costs.”
Then Rosa’s voice came faintly through the phone.
“Isabella, don’t come—”
A slap.
Mateo heard it.
“Mom!”
Isabella covered the speaker but too late.
Adrian went silent.
Then:
“Is that the boy?”
Her blood turned cold.
“No.”
Adrian laughed softly.
“Bella.”
The line went dead.
Mateo stared at her.
“He knows.”
Isabella stood.
“Yes.”
“What do we do?”
She looked at Luca.
Then at the clock.
9:18 a.m.
Pier Thirty-Six.
May you like
Less than two hours.
“We stop playing defense.”
