Chapter 7 - THE PRICE OF PEACE
Matteo found Enzo at the trucking yard.
Nobody dragged him there.
Nobody surrounded him.
Matteo simply told Peter Salerno to ask Enzo to come to the dispatch office.
Twenty minutes later, he arrived.
He looked at my father’s coat hanging over the back of a chair.
Then at Salvatore DeMarco.
And he understood.
“You opened Forty-Seven.”
I stood.
“You knew about it.”
“I knew Lorenzo kept a locker.”
“You said he left voluntarily.”
“He did.”
Salvatore gave a disgusted laugh.
“After you made staying impossible.”
Enzo looked at him.
“You weren’t there.”
“I was there enough.”
Matteo closed the office door.
“Tell me everything.”
Enzo’s eyes moved toward me.
“This is family business.”
I almost laughed.
“My father lost fifteen years of his life because of your family business.”
Matteo pulled out a chair.
“She stays.”
Enzo sat.
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
Then the oldest Bellini captain in the room finally stopped pretending.
“Antonio wanted Lorenzo protected after he exposed Aldo.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
“I knew it.”
“You suspected.”
“I asked you.”
“And I lied.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“Why?”
Enzo looked at his cousin.
“Because your father was going to destroy the alliance with Russo.”
“Maybe he should have.”
“You say that now.”
Enzo leaned forward.
“Fifteen years ago we had three crews ready to walk, a warehouse dispute in Red Hook and Ricci people threatening to shut Bellini trucks out of half the produce terminals.”
Carlo crossed his arms.
“My father threatened a work stoppage.”
“That distinction feels important only because you won.”
Carlo did not argue.
Enzo continued.
“If Antonio publicly humiliated Aldo, Russo walked. If Russo walked, his crews went with him. Then Ricci gained the waterfront.”
“So you punished Lorenzo.”
“I removed one man from the equation.”
I stared at him.
“He had a daughter.”
“I knew.”
“And you still did it.”
His eyes met mine.
“Yes.”
No excuse.
That made it almost harder.
Gabriel said, “Antonio told us Lorenzo had chosen to leave.”
“Because that was what I told him.”
Matteo’s voice was dangerously quiet.
“You lied to my father.”
“Yes.”
“To protect the family.”
“Yes.”
“To protect yourself.”
Enzo looked away.
“Yes.”
There it was.
Not one motive.
Three.
Loyalty.
Fear.
Pride.
The things that ruined families rarely came alone.
I asked, “Did you threaten my father?”
“No.”
“Did you make him leave?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I told every dispatcher and union steward who owed Bellini a favor that Lorenzo Marino was finished at the waterfront.”
Salvatore’s face hardened.
“You blacklisted him.”
Enzo nodded.
My stomach turned.
For years my father had said losing the docks was the best thing that happened to him because it gave him the bakery.
I had believed him.
Maybe he had needed me to believe him.
“Why didn’t he tell Antonio?”
Enzo looked at me.
“Because I told him the truth.”
“What truth?”
“If he fought me, Antonio would defend him. Russo would walk. Half the crews would split. Your father knew what could follow.”
“So he sacrificed himself.”
“No.”
Enzo’s voice sharpened.
“He made a choice.”
“After you took every other choice away.”
That silenced him.
Matteo looked at the floor.
I realized he was hearing more than my father’s story.
He was hearing the history of his own leadership.
All the ugly decisions older men had hidden so he could inherit something that looked stable.
Enzo continued.
“I helped him open the bakery.”
I froze.
“What?”
“I gave him the first year’s rent.”
“No.”
“He refused twice.”
“You’re lying.”
“He took it the third time because the ovens needed replacing and you needed school clothes.”
I hated that detail.
Because it sounded true.
Tears burned my eyes.
“So he took money from the man who destroyed his career.”
Enzo looked tired.
“He took money because he loved his daughter more than he hated me.”
Nobody spoke.
That was my father.
He would have despised the compromise.
Then made it anyway if I needed something.
“Did he forgive you?”
Enzo’s mouth tightened.
“No.”
Good.
Some part of me needed that.
“Seven years ago he came back,” Enzo said. “He told me Aldo was rebuilding the old network.”
“You did nothing.”
“I confronted Aldo.”
Bianca stepped forward.
“My father denied it.”
“Yes.”
“And you believed him?”
“No.”
Enzo looked at Matteo.
“I made a different mistake.”
“What?”
“I thought I could use him.”
Matteo’s face hardened.
Enzo explained.
“He had union influence. We had trucking. I figured if I kept him close, I could see where he moved.”
Carlo shook his head.
“You fed the fox because you wanted to watch where it walked.”
“I kept the pier stable for seven years.”
“No,” Salvatore said.
“You kept it quiet.”
That difference sat heavily in the room.
Enzo rubbed both hands over his face.
“Then Antonio died. Matteo took over. Ricci pushed harder. Russo offered the marriage alliance.”
Bianca said, “My father offered me.”
Enzo looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
“And you thought marrying Matteo to me would solve everything.”
“Yes.”
Matteo stared at him.
“You never saw Bianca as a person.”
Enzo did not answer.
Neither did Bianca.
That hurt her more than anger would have.
Matteo stood.
“You’re suspended as captain.”
Enzo’s head snapped up.
“You can’t do that six days before the vote.”
“I just did.”
“You need my trucking men.”
“I need them to know they belong to Bellini, not to you.”
Enzo stood too.
“They are loyal to me.”
Matteo met his eyes.
“Then we’re about to find out what kind of loyalty I inherited.”
The room became still.
Enzo looked at Gabriel.
His uncle did not help him.
He looked at Peter.
Nothing.
Then finally at me.
“I am sorry about your father.”
I believed he meant it.
I also knew sorry would never give Lorenzo Marino fifteen years back.
“You should be.”
Enzo nodded.
Then left.
Bianca sat down slowly.
Her hands trembled.
Matteo noticed.
“What?”
“My father will know Enzo has been exposed.”
“Good.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You don’t understand.”
She removed the Russo ring again.
“My father never needed Enzo forever. He needed him until the Bellini family was divided enough to accept somebody else.”
Carlo frowned.
“Who?”
Bianca looked toward the yard.
Twenty-two-year-old Nico Russo stood near the gate.
No expensive suit.
No guards.
Just jeans, a navy jacket and a backpack over one shoulder.
Bianca went pale.
“What is he doing here?”
Nico walked into the dispatch office.
He looked at his sister first.
Then Matteo.
Finally he placed a gold Russo family ring on the desk beside Bianca’s.
“I heard what Dad promised you.”
Bianca stood.
“Nico—”
“I’m not doing it.”
Her voice broke.
“Doing what?”
“Being the reason you marry somebody.”
He pushed the ring toward her.
“I don’t want Pier Twelve. I don’t want his crews. And I’m not the price of your marriage.”
Bianca stared at her brother.
Nico looked at Matteo.
“If she did something wrong, blame her for what she did.”
Then he pointed at the ring.
“But don’t blame her for what our father made her afraid of.”
May you like
And for the first time since the meeting began, Bianca Russo cried.
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