Page 82 of Broken Vows

I scan the documents quickly. Offshore accounts, weapons purchases, personnel payments. The scale of the operation is larger than I expected, which means Marco had been planning this betrayal for longer than I initially thought, possibly years.

"Ambitious little bastard," I murmur.

"Your brother always thought big. Just not smart." Max retrieves the papers. "Speaking of Marco—what's his status?"

The question I've been avoiding. Marco is currently secured in a facility outside the city, under guard, recovering fromthe wounds Melinda inflicted. He's alive, which makes him a problem. Dead, he'd be a martyr. Alive, he's a constant threat.

"Recovering," I say carefully. "The question is what to do with him long-term."

"The traditional approach would be elimination." Max's voice carries no judgment, just pragmatic assessment. "Clean, permanent, sends the right message about family loyalty."

He's right. In the old days, under my father's leadership, Marco would already be dead. Betraying family was the ultimate sin, punishable only by death. But I'm not my father.

"There's another option," I say. "Exile. Permanent, non-negotiable, but allows him to live."

Max raises an eyebrow. "That's... merciful. Some might see it as weakness."

"Some might. Others will see it as confidence. A leader secure enough in his power to show mercy to defeated enemies." I lean forward. "Besides, dead martyrs inspire revenge. Live exiles inspire pity."

"Where would you send him?"

"South America. Argentina, maybe. Somewhere far enough away that he can't cause immediate trouble, but not so remote that he disappears entirely." I've been considering this option since my late father declared all-out war, with Marco as the instigator. "Strip him of all assets, all connections, all power. Let him live with the consequences of his choices."

Max considers this, fingers drumming against the table. "It's risky. Leaves a potential threat alive."

"Everything's risky. The question is which risk serves our long-term interests better." I finish my water, set the glass down with a thunk. "A dead Marco becomes a symbol for anyone who opposes my leadership. A broken, exiled Marco becomes a warning."

"And if he tries to return? Attempts revenge?"

"Then he dies. But at least we gave him the chance to choose survival over stupidity." I stand, moving to the window. The city spreads below us, lights flickering like scattered diamonds. "This is about more than Marco. It's about establishing a different kind of leadership. One that uses violence strategically rather than reflexively."

Max joins me at the window. "You're thinking about the baby. About what kind of world she'll inherit."

"Partly." The admission comes easier than expected. "But also about what kind of leader I want to be. My father ruled through fear and absolute brutality. It worked, but it also made enemies of everyone around him. I want something... sustainable."

"Sustainable." Max repeats the word like he's testing its weight. "Interesting concept for our business."

"Our business is changing. Evolving. The old ways of blood feuds and territory wars are expensive, inefficient. Bad for long-term growth." I turn back to him. "What if we tried something different? Cooperation instead of constant conflict?"

Max's laugh is sharp, calculated. "Cooperation between the Russos and Mastronis? Some people would call that fantasy."

"Some people are fucking idiots who can't see past their grandfathers' feuds." I return to my seat, energy coursingthrough me as the pieces align. "Think about it strategically. Combined territories, shared intelligence, coordinated operations. We could control everything from the docks to the pharmaceutical networks."

"And split the profits how, exactly?"

"Equal partnership. Joint decision-making on major operations. Separate day-to-day management of existing territories." The proposal has been forming in my mind since the wedding, crystallizing with each new threat we've faced together. "My child gives us a natural alliance. Why not make it official?"

Max studies me with those obsidian eyes that miss nothing. "You're serious about this."

"Dead fucking serious. The alternative is another generation of our kids dodging bullets meant for their parents. Another fifty years of profitable territory divided by expensive wars." I lean forward. "Or we could build something that lasts. Something worth inheriting."

"The other families won't like it. A Russo-Mastroni alliance threatens everyone else's power base."

"Let them try to stop us. Separately, we're strong. Together, we're unstoppable." I can see him calculating odds, considering angles. "Besides, most of them are too busy fighting each other to coordinate any real opposition."

Before Max can respond, my phone buzzes with another message from Tony:All packages delivered. City's quiet. Ready for next phase.

The cleanup is complete. Three more bodies disappeared into the night, three more problems permanently solved. My father would be proud of the efficiency, if he weren't one of the corpses.

---