Don Bowed To Me Chapter 28
Vincenzo walked to the center of the hall.
He gave Don Salvatore a brief nod first.
Then turned around.
“Dr. Vitale.”
For the first time, a hint of a smile crept into his voice.
That smile was more dangerous than no smile at all.
“Welcome to the Marchetti household.”
Sebastian’s brow furrowed.
“Uncle.”
Vincenzo raised his hand.
“Sebastian, this is a family matter.”
He looked at me again.
“So I’ll ask directly—are you of Italian descent?”
I didn’t look away.
“My name is Vitale. My family’s ancestral home is Palermo.”
“My mother was Elena Callahan. Irish-American, from Boston.”
Vincenzo nodded.
That was exactly the answer he’d wanted to hear.
“That’s enough.”
He produced a manila envelope from his inner breast pocket.
Placed it in front of Don Salvatore.
“Since 1912, when the Marchetti family formally established its bylaws in America, one rule has never changed.”
“Core leadership positions within the Marchetti family may only be held by family-recognized bloodline members and their lawful spouses.”
He looked at me.
“Not because we still live in Palermo.”
“But because this rule exists to ensure the family’s assets, alliances, and inheritance rights never fall into the hands of someone the family hasn’t sanctioned.”
“This rule has held for over a hundred years.”
“And in the past six months, I’ve received a joint objection signed by twenty-seven capos.”
He tapped the envelope on the table.
“Twenty-seven men.”
“More than half of all Marchetti capos.”
Sebastian’s expression darkened.
Vincenzo continued:
“Their demand is simple.”
“If Dr. Vitale is to become an official representative of the Marchetti family, she must submit to a formal family sit-down.”
I raised an eyebrow slightly.
“A sit-down?”
Vincenzo looked at me.
“Presided over by the Don.”
“All capos in attendance.”
“They may raise objections, and you must answer them.”
“If you fail to secure majority approval—”
He paused.
“You can remain Sebastian’s woman.”
“But you cannot make decisions on behalf of the Marchetti family.”
The air went still.
Sebastian stepped forward.
“Uncle.”
His voice had gone cold.
“You say you’ve been preparing this for six months.”
“Since the day I signed over twenty percent of Marchetti Defense’s equity and voting rights to Hazel?”
Something shifted in Vincenzo’s eyes.
“Uncle, twenty-seven signatures. It took you six months to collect them.”
Sebastian stared him down.
“How many of those twenty-seven were men Matteo promoted through his Providence union line?”
“How many are people you personally arranged to settle near Boca Raton?”
“And how many have ties to the Falconieri family?”
“Especially Dante Falconieri.”
“Tonight, I had him removed from Newport Prep’s family event list.”
Vincenzo’s expression finally changed.
Sebastian smiled.
But there wasn’t a trace of warmth in his eyes.
“I know exactly where every one of those signatures came from.”
“Because for the past six months, I’ve been waiting for you to make your move.”
I spoke for the first time.
“Mr. Vincenzo.”
He turned to me.
I asked:
“By Marchetti tradition, what kind of woman is qualified to sit at Sebastian’s right hand?”
Vincenzo was silent for a beat.
“She must be recognized by the family. She must have no existing marital ties.”
“And her bloodline must not become grounds for family members to challenge the line of succession.”
I smiled.
“So the question isn’t whether I’m qualified.”
“The question is that you need a reason you can use against me.”
Vincenzo didn’t respond.
I took out my phone.
“You do have a more convenient candidate at hand.”
His expression changed sharply.
“Isabella Vitale.”
The air froze instantly.
“Six months ago, you personally arranged her marriage into the Marchetti family.”
“Three months ago, her marriage to Matteo was formally annulled by the court.”
“By your own logic, she still possesses the bloodline and connections recognized by the Marchetti family.”
“More importantly—she needs you right now.”
I looked at him.
Vincenzo’s jaw tightened.
I turned my phone screen toward him.
The photo had been taken three days ago.
Location: Astoria, Queens.
In the photo, Vincenzo wore a dark cashmere coat.
He was helping Isabella into a car.
And in Isabella’s hand was an envelope Vincenzo had just handed her.
Don Salvatore looked at the photo.
His fingers stopped tapping the armrest.