LOGINThe call came just after midnight.It rang up through the sleeping house like a bell in an empty church, the old black telephone on her father's desk, three long rings and a pause. On the balcony, Luca's hand tightened around hers. Under the bare oaks the lantern guttered, and the silver urn lay warm in her lap."Let it ring," Luca said quietly, with his thumb moving over her knuckles. "Whoever it is can wait until morning.""No one calls that line for good news," Isabella answered, rising and folding the blanket over the arm of her chair. She smiled down at him, and her eyes were calm. "Go and check on Matteo, Luca. I heard him turn in his sleep a minute ago.""You did not hear anything.""A mother always hears." She bent and kissed his forehead. "Go."He studied her face for a long moment in the lantern light, and the corner of his mouth lifted. Then he stood, kissed her once on the mouth, and went in through the glass doors with his bare feet soft on the boards. She listened to him
Matteo let go of the chair on a gray Tuesday afternoon, and nobody in the study noticed until he was halfway across the floor.Isabella sat behind the wide oak desk with a quarterly report open under her pen, frowning at a column of figures. Across the room, Luca stood at the window with a telephone pressed to his ear, listening to a Marseille importer explain why a shipment was late. The study had been rebuilt in the spring, with new glass, a floor of honey-colored oak, and a plain wooden table where the cracked one had stood. Her father's portrait hung beside the desk with a small gold stag pinned to its frame."No, Henri, I do not want a better excuse," Luca said, turning the silver bracelet on his wrist, his back to the room, "I want those crates on the Genoa quay by Thursday.""Bella," Gerald whispered from the rug, a wooden block frozen in his fist and his thin face gone still, "look at your son."She looked up. Her pen slid out of her fingers.Matteo stood in the middle of the
The beam was gone.Isabella saw it the moment she stepped through the doors of the Council chamber, and her stride faltered on the black marble. For three years that wooden post with its iron ring had stood in every nightmare she had. Now the platform at the end of the long room was bare and freshly scrubbed, with two tall chairs of dark carved wood set side by side where the gallows had been. Only four small holes in the stone showed where the iron had once been bolted down."I had it torn out on Tuesday," Don Aldo Ferrante said quietly, leaning on his silver cane at the foot of the platform. "Four men and a crowbar, and I stood and watched every nail come out. I thought you should not have to walk past it.""Thank you, Don Aldo," Isabella whispered, with her throat tight.Snow drifted down through the stained glass skylight and melted before it reached the floor. Every family in New York had come. They filled the benches along both walls in black coats and black hats, and a narrow g
The sacristy smelled of candle wax and old wool, and five men were waiting in it.Isabella stopped on the threshold with Luca at her shoulder and Matteo still asleep against his chest. A tall young man in a cream linen suit lounged against the vestment cupboard with his arms folded, as comfortable as if the chapel belonged to him. His black hair was oiled back from a handsome, sulky face, and a signet ring glittered on his hand. Beside him stood a heavy man in his sixties with Don Aldo's long nose, and behind them, stiff and silent in black overcoats, two of the old Council elders she had seen at the Summit."Signora Moretti," the young man said, with a smile that did not reach his eyes, "forgive us for interrupting your feast. I am Enzo Ferrante.""Don Aldo's grandson," Isabella answered, folding her bandaged hands in front of her, "and the man who owes my son's christening an apology.""I would not dream of spoiling a child's day." He pushed off the cupboard and bowed, with a shade
The chapel of San Felice stood at the top of a goat track, and by eleven o'clock the whole mountain smelled of roasting lamb.Isabella stood in the monastery cloister with her son in her arms, watching Rosa march across the courtyard like a general at the head of an army. Behind her came six novice monks carrying trays of stuffed artichokes, cannoli, fried rice balls, and a roast pig the size of a child. Two hundred guests had been invited, and Rosa had sworn on her mother's grave that every one of them would leave unable to walk."Not there, Brother, the long table!" Rosa bellowed, snapping her wooden spoon at a startled monk. "Do you want it to run away?""She has not slept in three days, signora," Tomas murmured, hurrying past with a crate of lemons on his shoulder, grinning like a boy at a fair. "She says a christening is harder than a war.""She is right, Tomas," Isabella answered, laughing, and she shifted Matteo against her shoulder.He wore a long white gown that Carla Rinaldi
Special Agent Reyes did not sit down, and Isabella did not offer her a chair.They stood facing each other in the shell of the great hall, with rain dripping through the ruined ceiling and plaster dust lying like snow across the marble. Luca moved a step closer to his wife's shoulder. Leone had gone very still by the window, with one thumb hooked into his belt."Elena Romano held an Italian passport for two years, Mrs. Moretti," Reyes said, sliding a photograph out of her coat and laying it on the edge of a broken table, her voice level and polite. "A widow, an art dealer, born in Palermo. The records say she died in a car accident before she ever opened her gallery.""Then she was a very unusual widow," Isabella answered quietly, looking down at her own face in the picture, with its black gown and its dark glossy hair."I read Inspector Leone's file on her." Reyes's sharp eyes did not leave Isabella's face. "I read it twice, and last Thursday it was withdrawn, pending correction. A g
The hotel room door clicked shut behind Isabella, locking out the hallway noise and the memory of the police station with it. She didn’t waste any time in kicking her heels aside, taking off her clothes, and heading straight into the bathroom. She needed water and silence, and she needed a moment w
Dante Romano was in his office, casually sipping red wine with a rare smile on his lips. The cigar he had just finished lay in a silver ash tray in front of him, letting out small wisps of smoke.Lucho Vestari, one of his most trusted enforcers, was standing on the other side of the office, watchin
Isabella pulled into the quiet parking lot of the private medical center. She turned off the engine of her car, and then rested her forehead briefly on the steering wheel. She was always nervous anytime she had her doctor's appointment…a mixture of fear and hope, and then the constant worry she alw
The next morning, Isabella woke up tired but with a smile. She was still thinking about the previous night with her ex fiance, Dante. His familiar voice, the comfort of his presence, and the warmth in his smile. It was like finding a long forgotten part of herself again, a part lost when everything







