Chapter 5 - ROCCO IS NOT AN IDIOT
It would have been easier if my brother were incompetent.
He was not.
Rocco had taken Mancini Hospitality from six properties to fourteen. He understood operations. Employees liked him more than they liked me because he remembered birthdays and did not send one-line emails at 3:00 a.m. He had also approved two genuinely smart acquisitions I initially opposed.
That made his choices harder to dismiss.
We met in Naomi’s conference room.
No Donatella.
No bodyguards.
Just lawyers.
Rocco leaned back. “You’re turning a bedroom fight into corporate sabotage.”
“No. Mother did that when she attached Harborstone to the certification.”
“I didn’t draft it.”
“You signed.”
“I thought it confirmed I was staying at the mansion.”
“You have an apartment.”
“Mom asked me to move back temporarily.”
“Why?”
“Because you travel.”
“Why my daughter’s room?”
He looked away.
“Because Mother thinks the North Suite is symbolic.”
“Do you?”
“I think it’s a bedroom.”
“Then why smirk?”
That irritated him.
“I was angry at you.”
“For what?”
“Harborstone.”
There.
“Why?”
“You keep questioning every family agreement like the rest of us are crooks.”
The word hung between us.
Our surname had history.
Old history.
Ugly history.
By the time our father Matteo took control, the Mancini businesses were legitimate shipping, hotels, and commercial property under layers of professional governance precisely because previous generations had spent too much time treating family loyalty as a substitute for law.
I said:
“I question conflicts because we have conflicts.”
“You own part of the warehouse too.”
“Yes. That’s why I escrowed distributions.”
Rocco’s jaw tightened.
Then I asked:
“Did you know Elodie’s sixth birthday triggers something?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Review.”
“What kind?”
“Family stewardship.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you knew.”
“Did you?”
He hesitated.
“Not everything.”
Then his lawyer allowed him to answer the factual timeline.
Two months earlier, Donatella told Rocco that after Elodie turned six, “the little girl gets her own protector and Harborstone becomes impossible.”
Impossible.
That word mattered.
“Did you verify?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Mom has run the stewardship trust since Dad died.”
“Temporary stewardship.”
His face changed.
“Is that what Hawthorne said?”
“No. It’s what the document says.”
I did not actually have it yet. Naomi kicked my shoe under the table.
I corrected.
“It’s what the summaries suggest.”
Good.
No bluffing.
Then I asked about the $4.8 million fee.
“Would you lose it if Elodie’s protector reviewed Harborstone?”
“I don’t know.”
“Would independent review reduce it?”
“Maybe.”
“Is that why you wanted closing before her birthday?”
He slammed one palm onto the table.
“I wanted the transaction closed because the port needs a buyer.”
“Not the question.”
He glared.
Then:
“Yes. I wanted my agreement approved under the current process.”
There.
Not baby hatred.
Self-interest.
Then:
“Did you know Mother planned to move Elodie to storage?”
“No.”
I watched.
“I knew she planned to move her room.”
“Where?”
“She said west wing.”
“Storage.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Maybe true.
“Did you see Greta carrying her bedding?”
“Yes.”
“And you stayed in the room.”
He looked down.
“Yes.”
“Did you stop Mother when she shoved Elodie?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I froze.”
I almost laughed.
Our family loved that word.
“You smirked.”
His face hardened.
“Yes.”
“Freezing doesn’t smirk.”
Silence.
Then:
“I wanted you humiliated.”
There.
Why?
“Because you always come back from a trip and everybody moves around you. I wanted you to see something had changed without your permission.”
Honest.
Ugly.
Useful.
Then Rocco said something that surprised me.
“I never wanted Elodie out of the family.”
“You accepted being called the real heir.”
“I liked Mother choosing me.”
That was the wound.
Not ideology alone.
A younger brother who spent forty years being second.
Donatella fed it.
Harborstone rewarded it.
The trust gave it paperwork.
Rocco’s lawyer ended the meeting there.
As he stood, Rocco said:
“Vit.”
I looked at him.
“If the schedule says what you think, Mom has been lying to both of us.”
I answered:
May you like
“I know.”
For the first time, he looked afraid of that possibility.
