Our marriage is nothing but a business arrangement to keep me alive and under surveillance.
I might be innocent, but I’m not naïve.
I know sex doesn’t equal love.
Still, I want to trust him. God help me, I do.
When he holds me, when he looks at me with those dark eyes, something inside me whispers that I'm safe. That he's not the monster I feared.
The evidence against the Calabresi family feels solid. The shell casings, the car. But Roman's right, it seems sloppy for professionals. Too convenient.
“I think someone is using you to infiltrate La Corona or to set up the Calabresi family.”
What if he's right? What if I've been manipulated all this time?
Blackwood seemed so sincere, so determined to help me find justice. But then, Roman seems sincere too when he says he'll help me find the truth.
Who am I supposed to believe?
I shake my head. The answer is obvious. The FBI agent is the one who lives on the right side of the law. Roman is my husband, but really, he’s a glorified guard and I’m in a gilded cage.
I think of my new burner phone lying hidden.
I should tell Roman about it. If I truly want to trust him, I need to be honest.
But something holds me back, self-preservation, maybe.
Or fear that the moment I reveal everything, I'll lose whatever leverage I have left.
My conversations with Agent Blackwood replay in my mind.
The first time we met, he showed me photos of my mother's crime scene.
I remember how he leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper as he said, “We found shell casings that match those from a previous Calabresi hit.”
But now, doubts creep in. Why would professional killers leave evidence so easily traced back to them?
The Calabresi family has survived for generations precisely because they're careful. All the families of La Corona are smarter than that.
Was I so blinded by grief and the need for answers that I didn't see the holes in Agent Blackwood’s story?
I think about how eager Blackwood was for me to marry Roman. “This is perfect,” he'd said. “You'll have access to everything.”
Not concern for my safety. Not outrage that I was being forced to marry someone connected to my mother's alleged killers.
Just excitement about the intelligence I could gather.
He’s not in it to help me. He’s in it to bring down La Corona.
It is his job, after all.
I scrub my hands down my face as I realize what a dope I’ve been. I’m nothing but a pawn in Blackwood’s attempt to rid New York of crime.
A pawn to keep my father in La Corona’s good graces.
A pawn to help Roman access whatever Agent Blackwood has on them.
I get myself out of bed, shower and dress, then make my way to the kitchen. It’s quiet now that Mrs. Rossi has taken Angelica to school.