I always assumed he would stay up on that pedestal forever.
But now, staring at his threadbare bag,
I wasn't so sure.
The steward's seal passed into his hands.
He straightened his spine and swept an arm toward the carved beams and painted pillars I had built for the compound:
"Rosewood and gilded dragons! This kind of gaudy excess is exactly why the operation has gone to ruin! Tear it all down within three days!
"Replace every piece with marble panels, hand-carved with the Castellano crest, to reflect the dignity befitting a Don's household!"
I swallowed hard.
Swapping everything for marble would cost ten times what the rosewood and gold had.
The house steward winced:
"Sir, we don't have enough in the accounts for that."
"How can the Castellano family not have enough!"
Emilio Ferraro's brows drew together like a blade. He adjusted his glasses with his index and middle finger, that precise, professorial gesture he always made before saying something he believed was brilliant.
"Sir, the treasury has always been managed by the son-in-law. Everything was under his control."
"Ha."
Emilio's expression shifted to one of grim understanding:
"The entire family's wealth was in the hands of someone as base as Angelo? Angelo, you've treated the Don's daughter like she doesn't exist!"
"Guards."
Rosalia's voice was ice:
"Hand over the treasury keys to Emilio Ferraro."
I stared at her.
I had thought this was a passing whim. I hadn't imagined she truly intended to give my brother everything I had built.
The gold and silver I had earned for this family over the past year filled the vault floor to ceiling. Clean cash, laundered revenue, stacked investments. Every dollar accounted for, every pipeline humming.
The moment the vault doors swung open, the blinding glare of gold forced Emilio back two steps.
Something flickered in his eyes.
He smothered it quickly, replacing it with disgust:
"So this is the source of the rot! This is what turned the Castellano operation into a house of vulgar excess!"
He spun around and threw himself to his knees before Rosalia:
"Angelo hoarded all of this for his own indulgence, with no regard for the family's reputation or dignity! What kind of man does that?"
He was trembling with righteous fury.
That ethereal face of his, all sharp angles and cool detachment.
Like some exiled immortal descended from the heavens.
Rosalia couldn't look away.