Chapter 8 8

It was midnight when Flavia's phone rang in her hotel room.

She saw Eliseo's name. She almost let it go to voicemail, but something stopped her. She answered.

"Flavia."

His voice was broken. It was a sound she had never heard from him. It cracked and splintered.

"Grandpa is gone."

Flavia sat up in bed. The breath left her lungs. Arthur Fitzpatrick. The only man in that family who had treated her with respect. The only one who knew her true purpose in New York.

"I'll be right down," she said.

She packed her bag in three minutes. She put on a black dress she kept for emergencies-a habit from a childhood where sudden departures were common.

She walked out of the hotel. Eliseo's car was idling at the curb.

She got in. Eliseo was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. He was staring straight ahead.

Flavia didn't get in the back. She sat in the passenger seat.

She reached out and placed her hand over his on the wheel. His skin was ice cold.

"I'm so sorry, Eliseo."

At her touch, the tension in his shoulders collapsed. He let out a shuddering breath. He turned his hand over and gripped hers, holding on like he was drowning.

They drove north, toward the Hudson Valley. The rain started to fall, drumming a rhythmic beat against the roof of the car.

"He died in his sleep," Eliseo said quietly. "Heart failure."

Flavia nodded. She opened a bottle of water and handed it to him. He took it, his hands shaking slightly.

"We have to face them," Eliseo said. "The vultures."

He meant his family. His parents. His uncles. His cousins.

Flavia's eyes hardened. "I will handle them. You just focus on saying goodbye to Arthur."

Eliseo glanced at her. In the dim light of the dashboard, her profile was sharp, determined. She didn't look like a grieving fiancée. She looked like a general going to war.

For the first time in days, they weren't enemies. They were allies.

Flavia pulled out her phone. She started making calls. The florist. The security team. The catering. She issued orders with a calm authority that stunned Eliseo.

Within an hour, she had organized the entire wake.

The car turned through the massive iron gates of Fitzpatrick Manor. The driveway was lined with ancient oak trees, their branches skeletal against the night sky.

The main house was lit up like a Christmas tree. Cars were already parked in the circular drive.

Eliseo pulled up to the front steps. He took a deep breath and put on a pair of dark sunglasses, shielding his red eyes.

Flavia unbuckled her seatbelt. "Ready?"

Eliseo looked at her. "Thank you for coming. Even though you hate me."

Flavia paused. Her hand was on the door handle.

"I'm here for Arthur."

They stepped out into the rain. Eliseo extended his arm. It was a reflex, a habit of their public life.

Flavia hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then, she slid her arm through his.

Together, they walked up the steps and into the lion's den.