My Don Married My Pregnant Sister So I Choose His Mafia Rival novel · Chapter 22 of 32

Chapter 22: The Recant

The deckhand reached over and stopped it.

Nobody told him to.

The frame stayed on the screen, the light on her face, her son's arm out straight.

Angelina had turned back from the wall.

She was staring at it with her mouth open.

"That's his mother," she said. "That's not the driver. That's his mother."

Assunta didn't make a sound.

She took off her glasses and folded them and put them on the tablecloth beside her coffee cup, very straight.

Then she crossed herself.

"Forty years," she said. "She sat behind me at Mass for forty years."

I closed the laptop.

My hands were steady.

I didn't know where that came from.

"Make two copies," I told the deckhand. "One goes in the steel drawer on the small launch. One goes in my coat. The card goes back in its March box under the stairs. Nobody outside this kitchen hears about it."

"Not even the feds?" he said.

"The feds lost one of my father's cards already. In my grandmother's mind." I looked at Angelina. "They're not losing this one."

"What about Ettore?" Assunta said.

"Ettore's coming home tonight." I stood up. "Angelina. Get your coat."

She didn't move.

"They'll put me in jail. I swore to it."

"Then you'll go to jail for telling the truth instead of a lie. It's a better room."

The federal building in downtown Brooklyn had a lobby full of flags and an elevator that smelled like burned coffee.

I'd called Ettore's lawyer from the car.

He met us in the lobby, gray and short and very calm, and he didn't ask Angelina a single question.

He just looked at her belly and then at me.

"You're sure," he said.

"She's sure."

Angelina said nothing.

Her face was white.

The emerald was still in my coat pocket.

Ninth floor.

Glass doors, a long open office full of desks and men in shirtsleeves.

The agent was at a desk by the window with his feet up, eating a sandwich.

He saw us come through the doors.

He saw Angelina.

His feet came off the desk.

"No," he said, standing. "No, no. Mrs. Varrone, you don't talk to anybody without me…"

"She's not here to talk to you," I said.

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