Chapter 6 - The Decision That Shocked the Syndicate
Three weeks later, Vincent called every senior member of the Rossi Syndicate to the estate.
Clara watched from the upstairs balcony.
“You don’t have to be here,” Vincent said.
“I know.”
“You can take the baby upstairs.”
“I know.”
Their son slept against her chest.
They had named him Luca.
Vincent looked at him.
“Then why are you staying?”
“Because you said things were changing.”
“They are.”
“I want to see it.”
Vincent nodded.
Downstairs, twelve men waited around the long dining table.
Frankie stood near the fireplace.
Vincent entered.
Conversation stopped.
“Gentlemen.”
Everyone sat.
Vincent remained standing.
“Anthony Bell believed my family made me weak.”
No one spoke.
“He believed leadership required a man to have nothing he cared about enough to lose.”
Vincent glanced toward Clara.
“I spent much of my life believing something similar.”
One captain frowned.
“Boss, where is this going?”
Vincent placed a folder on the table.
“I’m restructuring everything.”
Murmurs spread.
Vincent continued.
“Legitimate businesses will be separated completely from syndicate operations. Anything involving narcotics, trafficking, or civilians is finished.”
A man named Carlo stood.
“You can’t simply decide that.”
Vincent looked at him.
“I just did.”
“We’ll lose territory.”
“Yes.”
“Millions.”
“Yes.”
“Power.”
Vincent paused.
“Perhaps.”
Carlo stared.
“For what?”
Vincent looked upstairs.
Clara met his eyes.
“For something worth keeping.”
The room fell silent.
Frankie stepped forward.
“I’m with him.”
One by one, others followed.
Not everyone.
Vincent expected that.
But nobody challenged him that day.
Later, Clara found him outside.
“You’re really doing it.”
“I told you I would.”
“You told me you would change.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know you meant dismantling half your empire.”
Vincent looked toward the gates.
“I built something that requires everyone I love to live behind walls.”
He turned toward her.
“That is not success.”
Clara adjusted Luca’s blanket.
“What happens to you?”
“I become extremely boring.”
“I doubt that.”
“I own legitimate construction companies, restaurants, warehouses and real estate.”
“Still sounds suspicious.”
“It probably is.”
She smiled.
Vincent stepped closer.
“May I?”
Clara handed him Luca.
Three weeks earlier, Vincent had held a newborn like someone had handed him an unexploded bomb.
Now Luca settled immediately against his chest.
“You’re getting good at that,” Clara said.
“I’ve been practicing.”
“With six guards outside the nursery?”
“Two.”
“Vincent.”
“One.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“None.”
“Progress.”
He smiled.
Then Clara became serious.
“I found an apartment.”
The smile disappeared.
Vincent looked down at Luca.
“When?”
“Next week.”
He nodded.
“That soon?”
“You promised.”
“I know.”
“You said I could choose.”
“I meant it.”
She watched him carefully.
“You’re not going to stop me?”
“No.”
“Track me?”
“No.”
“Put Frankie across the street?”
“Frankie has better things to do.”
From behind them, Frankie said, “Thank you.”
Clara laughed.
Vincent didn’t.
That night, he packed Luca’s things himself.
Clara stood in the nursery doorway.
“You really think I’m leaving.”
“You said you were.”
“I am.”
Vincent folded a tiny blanket.
Badly.
Clara took it from him.
“You never asked why.”
“I assumed you wanted independence.”
“I do.”
He nodded.
“And I need to know whether you can let me walk away.”
Vincent looked at her.
“Is this a test?”
“No.”
“It feels like one.”
“It’s not about whether you chase me.”
“Then what?”
“It’s about whether I come back when nobody forces me.”
Vincent went silent.
Clara stepped closer.
“I loved you when I left.”
His expression changed.
“I left because loving you was costing me myself.”
“I know.”
“I need to know the man standing here understands that.”
Vincent took her hand.
“I do.”
She squeezed his fingers.
“Then let me go.”
He nodded.
“I will.”
A week later, Clara walked through the gates carrying Luca.
No guards stopped her.
No car followed.
No phone appeared secretly inside her bag.
Vincent stood at the entrance.
He watched the car disappear.
Frankie approached.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Vincent looked toward the empty road.
“Nothing.”
Frankie nearly smiled.
“Now that must hurt.”
“You have no idea.”
But Vincent did nothing.
And three days later, someone rang his doorbell.
Vincent opened the door himself.
Clara stood there.
Luca slept in his carrier.
Vincent stared at her.
“Forget something?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Clara stepped forward.
May you like
“You.”
---
