Page 116 of Promised to the Don of Naples

---

I sighed. I sat down in my father's chair for the first time in twelve years.

"Carlo."

Raffaele didn't move.

"Do you have proof?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I am."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I felt something too, fratellone. Last Friday." He rested his hand on the desk. "He asked me where Valentina would be sleeping that week."

I clenched my fists.

"I plant false information tomorrow. For him. About a shipment in Bagnoli on Thursday. If Salvatore moves a man to Bagnoli, it's him."

"Sì."

"If he moves, I kill him."

"I'm going with you."

"No."

"Fratellone."

"No, Raffaele." I looked at him. "I bury him in silence. Alone."

He didn't argue, only lowered his head once.

I picked up the baptism photo, looked at my father in the center. Looked at Carlo, gray suit, short smile. I turned the frame against the bookshelf wall.

Forty years, Carlo.

I bury you in silence.

CHAPTER 36

"That morning I played the piano for a man entering my house for the last time. I didn't know it. But the nonna knew."

Valentina MORETTI

The nonna had coffee with me on the lemon-tree terrace.

Almost not a word for fifteen minutes. I'd already learned from her that silence was a way of talking too.

"Signora."

"Sì, nonna."

"My grandson is receiving Carlo at eleven."

Carlo Acquaviva. I hadn't spoken to him since before the honeymoon.

---