Page 105 of Freed
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
He hesitates.
I smile without warmth. “Did your daughter send you crying, or did someone in my house decide to earn a little extra money on the side?”
“You’re not the only man with sources.”
“No,” I say softly. “But I am the only one on this call capable of making your last few years very uncomfortable.”
“You forget yourself.”
“No,” I murmur. “I remember exactly who you are. A man with debts. A man with a fragile family name. A man who needed mine badly enough to put his daughter in my bed and call it an alliance.”
His voice hardens. “Watch your mouth.”
“Or what?” I ask. “You’ll go public? You’ll challenge me? You’ll pull your support?” I laugh again, low and sharp. “You have nothing I can’t take away by morning.”
I let the silence stretch.
Then I say, “If anyone tied to your family so much as breathed near my guest tonight, I will bury every last one of them in lawsuits, debt, and scandal before I start on the bodies.”
The line goes dead quiet. Ah. There it is. He knows something.
When he answers, his voice is careful now. Too careful. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Liar.”
“Conti—”
“You called me to posture,” I say, cutting clean across him, “and instead you gave me something useful.”
His tone sharpens with alarm. “What useful thing?”
“That you knew about her.”
The old man says nothing. Which is answer enough.
I end the call without another word and stare at the dark screen in my hand.
Then I hit the intercom. “Cesaro. Now.”
He’s in the room within thirty seconds.
I don’t waste time. “Federico Marino just called.”
Cesaro’s brow lifts. “Is Mrs. Conti safe?”
“He knew about Elizabeth.”
That wipes the expression from his face.
“He shouldn’t,” Cesaro says.
“No. He shouldn’t.”
I push away from the desk and start pacing, my thoughts snapping into place one by one. Russo threatens war. Federico knows too much. Someone in my house poisons a pregnant woman. These are not separate problems. They are threads in the same knot.
