Chapter 18 · Industry Dead

Sal doesn't wait for the first signature to dry. He slaps a second paper flat on the table, right on top of mine, so the wet ink smears under his palm.

"One more thing," he says. "Before you two go celebrating."

Nico doesn't even look at it. "We're done, Sal."

"We're not." Sal taps the page. Old paper, yellow at the edges, the kind that's been folded and unfolded so many times the creases have gone soft as cloth. "This is your grandfather's contract. Same clause, every marriage that goes through this family since Palermo. You know the one."

I look at Nico's face and watch something in it go still. Not confused. Recognizing.

"Read it to him," Sal says, like he's enjoying this. "Or should I?"

"Sal—"

"A marriage inside this family isn't binding on paper alone." Sal's eyes cut to me, and there's a smile in them I don't like, the kind men wear right before they hand you a bill you didn't order. "Has to be witnessed. Consummated within the day, in the house, with a man present to confirm it. Otherwise the whole thing's void — the marriage, the debt clearance, all of it.