"I've watched her destroy herself for eight years. And I've watched everyone else watch and do nothing."
"And you? What have you done?"
"What I could. Which was never enough." Another perfectly timed sigh. "She doesn't trust easily. The fact that she let you get close… that means something."
"Or it means nothing."
"Perhaps."
Silence stretches. He's deciding something, measuring me for a suit I don't want to wear.
"You know what's fascinating about soldiers?" Cesar says, still studying me. "They're trained to see enemies everywhere. Sometimes they create them just to have something to fight."
The psychological warfare is sophisticated. Plant doubt. Make me question my instincts.
"Marco Rosetti is your brother?" he asks.
"Yes."
"I've heard of your family. The Chicago Rosettis." He lets that sit, watching my reaction. "Powerful. Ruthless when they need to be. Just as intimidating as the New York Rosettis."
The way he says ruthless. Like he's tasting the word, filing it away for later use.
"Also loyal," he continues. "Very loyal."
"Family matters."
"Yes. Loyalty. Family." He pushes off the wall, moves closer. Not threatening, exactly. Just… present. "That's good. Marisol needs loyalty. She's had too little of it."
"She has yours."
"Always. Since the day she was born." His voice drops, becomes something intimate, confessional. "I made a promise to her mother. Rihanna. Beautiful woman, voice like an angel. She knew she was dying. The cancer had spread everywhere by then. She made me promise to look after her babies. Both of them."
He's using a dead woman as leverage. Everything in my gut screams liar. This man who speaks of promises while calculating angles.
"Must be hard," I say. "Watching her struggle."
"You have no idea." For a moment, something flashes across his face. Real emotion, but not grief. Frustration, maybe. "Every time she makes headlines, every disaster, every overdose scare. It's like watching Rihanna die again. Jorge feels it too. It's killing him faster than the cancer."
"She's doing better."
"Is she? A few days without champagne doesn't erase eight years of self-destruction." He studies me with those calculating eyes. "But you know that. A soldier like you, you've seen what trauma does to people. What it makes them become."
"I've seen people survive things that should have killed them."
"Survive. Yes. But not thrive. Not heal." He shakes his head. "Some people are just… broken. Too damaged to fix. All you can do is manage the damage."
Every word is carefully chosen. He's testing me, seeing if I'll defend her, seeing how deep my investment goes.
"Speaking of management," he continues, "I'm curious about your family's interest here. The Rosettis don't usually involve themselves in Miami business."
"Jorge Delgado reached out to Marco personally."
"Yes, but why? We have security. Good security." He gestures vaguely at the house around us. "Unless Jorge knows something I don't. Some threat he hasn't shared with his oldest friend."
There it is. The probe. He wants to know what Jorge told Marco, what I know.
"He's a father worried about his daughter. That's all I need to know."
