An Underboss's Canary Sings

I was in my art gallery, finalizing preparations for an upcoming charity auction, when my husband, Brady Fitzpatrick, called.

"There's a problem with the security system at Fiona's place. Go handle it. She's a widow, she can't deal with this kind of situation."

I put down my paintbrush. As the lady of the Fitzpatrick house, it was my duty to handle such things. I drove to Fiona's mansion, where I calmed the frightened servants and managed the security breach.

I dragged myself home, exhausted and spoiling for a fight. Through the half-open study door, I saw him. He was showing Fiona the tattoo on his wrist.

It was the rose I had designed to commemorate our daughter, Rosalie. And now, etched beside it, was the letter "F." For Fiona.

I stared at the defiled ink, my blood running cold. I shoved the door open, my voice cutting through their quiet moment.

"Brady, we're done."

He looked at me, disbelief twisting into a cold sneer. "You're tearing this family apart over a little ink?"

"Yes," I said. "I am."

————————

1

My words hung in the dead silence of the study.

Brady's face darkened. "Alyssa, what is this madness?"

He strode toward me, reaching to pull me into a forceful embrace, but I sidestepped his grasp.

His hand froze in mid-air, and anger flashed in his eyes at my defiance. "I know you miss Rosalie, but she's gone. It's time for us to move on."

He lowered his voice, glancing toward an awkward Fiona Gallagher, who lingered by the door.

"You know Fiona's situation. It's just a tattoo. Don't bring shame on the Fitzpatrick name in front of an outsider."

Fiona quickly interjected, playing the peacemaker. Her eyes were rimmed with red as she looked at me apologetically.

"Alyssa, I'm so sorry. I didn't know this tattoo was so important to you. Brady just wanted to… please don't blame him. I'll ask him to have it removed."

"No need," Brady cut in, pulling her behind him protectively. "Alyssa's just being dramatic. She'll get over it."

Then he turned to me, his brow furrowed. "Go to the cellar and bring up that bottle of Petrus. Fiona and Maeve haven't had dinner yet."

I didn't move. My gaze was fixed on the ugly letter etched into his wrist.

To him, this was nothing. A bit of ink to please his lover. He couldn't understand, and couldn't be bothered to, what that rose meant to me.

I felt a bone-deep chill as I forced myself to speak. "I'm initiating a family arbitration."

Brady's patience finally snapped. "Alyssa O'Connell, haven't you made enough of a scene? You're going to destroy this family over a tattoo? Do you think if Rosalie were here, she'd want to see you this weak?"

"It's not just a tattoo." I fought back tears, staring into his eyes, desperate to make him understand. "It was Rosalie's. I designed it for her myself."

"I know it was Rosalie's!" Brady's voice rose. "But she's not here anymore! What's the point of hoarding all these mementos? You lock yourself in that art studio all day, turning it into a shrine. For what?"

"I added that letter to force you to wake up and stop wallowing! I did it for your own good!"

My throat tightened, the words strangled by a sharp pain blooming in my chest. "Brady, you never asked."

He spun on me, glaring. "Ask for your permission? Would you have agreed? You'd enshrine everything Rosalie ever touched and live like a ghost! I can't just stand by and watch my wife waste away!"

His words were bullets, each one striking my heart with brutal precision.