Chapter 4 - The Walls of Marble and BloodThe grand library of the Falcone estate was usually a place of cold, academic silence. Tonight, it felt like an interrogation room.
The heavy mahogany doors were closed and locked, guarded from the outside by two of Adriano’s most trusted security men. Inside, the fire in the hearth crackled weakly, casting long, dancing shadows across the rows of leather-bound books.
Rebecca sat on a plush velvet sofa, wrapped in a thick wool blanket Lucia, the head cook, had brought her. Clementine was asleep in her lap, her small head resting against Rebecca’s shoulder, exhausted from the terror of the garden. Despite the warmth of the room and the dry clothes she had been given, Rebecca could not stop shaking.
Adriano stood by the massive windows, looking out into the dark night. He had poured a glass of whiskey, but like always, he hadn't touched it.
“I didn't know, Rebecca,” Adriano said, his voice quiet, carrying a weariness that seemed to age him by ten years. “If I had known my brother had a wife and a child, I would have searched the entire country to find you. My father and Genevieve’s family... they told me Thomas died single. They told me there was no one left.”
Rebecca looked down at her daughter’s soft face. “Genevieve’s father, Donald Ross, came to my house two weeks after the funeral. He told me Thomas owed their company half a million dollars in damages for a project he had ruined. He said if I didn't sign over the rights to Thomas’s small electrical business and come work for the Falcone family to pay off the debt, they would take Clementine away from me through the courts. I was twenty-four, Mr. Falcone. I was alone. I didn't have a lawyer. I didn't have anyone.”
Adriano closed his eyes, his fist tightening around his whiskey glass until the crystal cracked, a thin line of red blood appearing on his palm. He didn't seem to notice the pain.
“They used you,” Adriano whispered, his voice thick with a dark, boiling rage. “They used my family’s name to keep you terrified, while they used your labor to humiliate you. Genevieve wanted to break you because she knew that if you ever spoke to me, the entire web of lies would unravel.”
He walked over to the sofa, slowly kneeling in front of her. The feared boss of New England, the man who held the city of Providence in his palm, looked up at the maid with nothing but humility in his eyes.
“Thomas was my younger brother, Rebecca. He was the best of us. He hated the business, he hated the violence, and I let him go because I wanted him to be happy. I promised him I would always protect him, and I failed,” Adriano said, his voice cracking. “But I will not fail you. And I will not fail his daughter.”
He reached out, his bloody palm stopping just inches from her face, before he gently pulled it back, not wanting to stain her. “From this moment on, you are not a servant in this house. You are a Falcone. And everyone who had a hand in Thomas’s death, everyone who made you crawl in this house, will pay for every tear you and your daughter have shed.”
Before Rebecca could answer, the library doors opened. Vance, Adriano’s chief of intelligence, stepped inside, carrying a thick black folder.
May you like
“Boss,” Vance said, his face grim. “We’ve secured Donald Ross. He was trying to board a private flight to Miami at the local airfield. We also have Genevieve’s personal safe open. You need to see this.”
Adriano stood up, his posture instantly returning to that rigid, terrifying authority. He looked down at Rebecca one last time. “Stay here with the child. You are safe now, Rebecca. I swear it on Thomas’s grave.”
