Chapter 5 - The Man Who Was There When My Father Died
My first instinct was to slap him.
My second was worse.
I wanted to believe Vittorio instead.
Not because my uncle-by-blood deserved trust, but because believing a stranger was easier than accepting that the man I had slept beside for five years had been present at my father's murder and never told me.
"Start at the beginning," I said.
Alexander did.
No excuses.
No interruptions.
Eight years earlier, Enzo Moretti had been the older brother of Alexander's father and the most powerful lieutenant in the Moretti organization.
When Alexander's father died, Enzo expected to inherit control.
Instead, the captains chose Alexander.
He was thirty-two.
Enzo never forgave him.
"Your father contacted me during that transition," Alexander said. "He had records that implicated Rinaldi, but some of the payments moved through Moretti-controlled companies too. Thomas thought we were cooperating with Vittorio."
"Were you?"
"My uncle was. Without my knowledge."
I crossed my arms.
"Convenient."
"Yes. It is. Which is why I kept proof."
He opened his phone and played an audio recording.
At first there was only the echo of a parking garage.
Then my father's voice.
Weak.
Breathless.
"Alexander?"
I stopped breathing.
Alexander's younger voice answered.
"Thomas. Stay with me. Ambulance is coming."
"Enzo."
A cough.
"It was Enzo. Coffee. Stupid way to die."
"You're not dying."
My father actually laughed.
"You are a terrible liar."
I covered my mouth.
On the recording, Alexander shouted at someone to open the garage gate.
Then my father spoke again.
"Claire doesn't know. Keep it that way unless you have to."
"Thomas-"
"Promise me."
Silence.
"Promise."
Alexander's recorded voice broke.
"I promise."
The file ended.
I stared at the phone.
"You recorded him dying?"
"My phone was already recording because I expected him to give me evidence."
"And you let the hospital call it a heart attack."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because if the murder became public, Enzo would know Thomas had spoken before he died. Then he would know to look at you."
"So you protected me by lying. Again."
"Yes."
I turned away.
The pattern was unbearable.
Every secret had a reason.
Every reason sounded almost noble.
And every noble reason had taken another piece of my life out of my hands.
"Do you understand what you did to me?"
I heard him inhale.
"I'm beginning to."
"No. You don't get to say you were protecting me as though that closes the argument. I buried my father believing his body had betrayed him. I blamed genetics. I had heart tests every year. I woke up during my pregnancy terrified that I would die at fifty-eight because he had."
Alexander went pale.
"I didn't know that."
"Exactly."
I turned on him.
"Because you never asked what your lie cost me."
He had no answer.
For the first time, I watched the full force of guilt reach him.
Not Mafia guilt.
Not strategic regret.
Personal guilt.
He sat down slowly.
"You're right."
"Stop saying that like it fixes anything."
"It doesn't."
"Then say something useful."
He looked at me.
"I was wrong."
The words were quiet.
"Not strategically. Not because the secret eventually caused a problem. I was wrong to decide you were safer without the truth. Your father asked for that promise when he was dying, and I treated it like a commandment because it justified what I already wanted to do. Control the information. Control the risk. Control you."
My eyes burned.
He continued.
"I told myself love made that acceptable. It didn't."
That was the first apology that reached me.
It did not repair anything.
But it reached me.
I sat across from him.
"Is Enzo still alive?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Chicago. Publicly retired. Privately, he has spent years undermining me."
"Why didn't you kill him?"
Alexander's mouth hardened.
"Because after your father died, Enzo disappeared behind layers of people. I had suspicion and Thomas's last words, but not enough proof to move against him without splitting my own organization in half. When I finally had enough, he had already made himself useful to people in government. Killing him would have started a war."
"And the bug in your study?"
"I believed Dominic was reporting to Rinaldi. After you disappeared, I discovered he was passing information to Enzo. Enzo was then feeding selected information to Vittorio."
"So your uncle and mine are working together."
"Temporarily. Men like them only cooperate until one has a chance to bury the other."
I thought of Vittorio's phone call.
"Why would he tell me you were there with my father if Enzo killed him?"
"Because truth is more useful than a lie when you only reveal half of it."
That sentence stayed with me.
It was exactly what I had done to myself after overhearing Alexander.
I had heard truth-shaped words.
I had built the rest alone.
"I want the pendant back," I said.
Alexander's eyes sharpened.
"No."
I nearly laughed.
"That response lasted less than an hour."
He exhaled.
"Claire-"
"You just gave a speech about controlling me."
"And immediately failed the practical exam."
Despite myself, I almost smiled.
He noticed.
For one second, the man I married appeared between us.
Then he was gone again.
"I want the pendant," I repeated. "And I want to open the vault."
"Vittorio has it."
"Then we take it from him."
Alexander stared at me as though I had suggested stealing the moon.
"No."
I lifted an eyebrow.
He closed his eyes.
"Let me try that differently. I believe going near Vittorio is extremely dangerous and I would prefer another plan."
"Better."
"I hate this."
"Good. Growth is uncomfortable."
His mouth twitched.
Then his phone rang.
Rafael's voice came through.
"We intercepted a message from North Bell. Vittorio wants to meet Claire."
Alexander looked at me.
"Where?"
"The old Blackstone rail terminal. Tomorrow at midnight. He says he'll exchange the pendant for a signed trust directive."
"Which we don't have," I said.
Rafael answered, "We can make something that looks right long enough."
Alexander's gaze never left mine.
"No."
I folded my father's letter and put it into my pocket.
"I'm going."
"Claire."
"You can either help me do it safely or spend tomorrow night discovering that I learned how to leave without your permission once already."
Rafael made a sound suspiciously like a cough hiding a laugh.
Alexander glared at the phone.
"You're enjoying this."
"Not even slightly, boss."
"Liar."
The next twenty-four hours were unlike anything I had experienced in five years of marriage.
Alexander explained everything.
Every vehicle.
Every exit.
Every man carrying a weapon.
Every contingency.
He even showed me the tracker he wanted sewn into my coat and asked before placing it there.
That should have been ordinary.
It felt revolutionary.
At eleven thirty the next night, we drove toward Chicago beneath a sky still heavy with storm clouds.
Lily remained at the farmhouse with a woman named Maria Alvarez, who had been Alexander's housekeeper when he was a boy and one of the few people he trusted without reservation.
Before we left, Lily hugged him around the knees.
"Bring Mommy back."
Alexander crouched in front of her.
"I will do everything I can."
Lily frowned.
"That's not yes."
He glanced at me.
"Your daughter negotiates like you."
"Our daughter."
The words escaped before I could stop them.
Alexander went very still.
I looked away.
At the terminal, the air smelled of rust and wet concrete.
The building had been abandoned for fifteen years. Broken windows rose four stories above old rail platforms.
I walked in alone.
At least, that was the appearance.
Alexander's men were positioned outside. Rafael watched from a service tunnel. Alexander was somewhere above me with a clear line of sight.
I wore an earpiece beneath my hair.
His voice came softly.
"I can see you."
"Try not to sound romantic."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
A light switched on at the far end of the platform.
Vittorio Rinaldi stepped from the shadows.
He was in his late sixties, silver-haired, elegant, and smaller than I expected.
He carried no visible gun.
Two men followed him.
One held a black velvet box.
Vittorio studied my face.
Then he smiled sadly.
"Elena's eyes."
"My eyes."
His smile changed.
"Definitely Elena's daughter."
He motioned to the box.
The man opened it.
My mother's jade pendant lay inside.
I felt suddenly breathless.
"Give it to me."
"The directive first."
I removed the document Rafael had prepared.
Vittorio did not take it.
"Set it down."
I placed it on an old bench between us.
He nodded to one of his men, who carried it away for inspection.
"You know," Vittorio said, "your mother once stood in this terminal with a suitcase. She was twenty-five. I asked her not to leave."
"Did you tell her that before or after you killed her friend?"
His face hardened.
"Samuel Parks stole from our family."
"So you burned him alive?"
A long silence.
"Alexander has been educating you."
"My mother left records."
That was a guess.
It worked.
For the first time, Vittorio looked uneasy.
"What records?"
"Give me the pendant and maybe I'll tell you."
Alexander's voice came through my earpiece.
"Good. Keep him talking."
Vittorio stepped closer.
"Your husband will eventually tell you that he is different from me. Men like us always say that to the women we need to forgive us."
"Maybe."
"He has killed people."
"I know."
"He has lied to you."
"I know."
"And you still came here under his protection."
"No."
I smiled.
"He came here under mine."
Vittorio's eyes narrowed.
Behind him, the man examining the document suddenly said, "It's wrong."
Everything changed.
Vittorio's smile vanished.
"Claire."
I lunged for the velvet box.
A gun appeared in his hand.
Alexander's voice exploded in my ear.
"Down!"
I dropped.
A shot cracked from somewhere above.
The gun flew from Vittorio's hand.
Then the terminal erupted.
Men emerged from behind columns.
Rafael's team fired from the service corridor.
Lights shattered.
I crawled across the wet platform toward the velvet box.
Someone grabbed my ankle.
I kicked hard.
A man cursed.
Then another figure slammed into him.
For one impossible second, I thought it was Alexander.
It wasn't.
Dominic Russo.
Alexander's former assistant.
The man from the study.
He dragged me behind a concrete pillar.
"If you want to live," he gasped, "you need to listen to me."
I stared at him.
"You're the traitor."
"Yes."
He looked terrified.
"But not the one you should be afraid of."
A bullet struck the pillar.
Dominic shoved the velvet box into my hands.
"Enzo never wanted the pendant."
"Then what does he want?"
Dominic looked at me.
"Alexander dead. Vittorio blamed. And you desperate enough to hand Enzo control of both families."
Before I could answer, another shot cracked.
Dominic jerked and collapsed against the pillar.
Blood spread across his shoulder.
I screamed.
Alexander reached us seconds later.
He pulled me behind him, fired toward the far platform, then looked down at Dominic.
"Why are you here?"
Dominic smiled weakly.
"Trying to resign."
Alexander's expression was murderous.
"You bugged my house."
"Enzo had my sister."
"You could have come to me."
"And risked him mailing her back in pieces?"
Alexander said nothing.
Dominic grabbed his sleeve.
"He's moving tonight."
"Where?"
"Your farmhouse."
My heart stopped.
Alexander looked at me.
I already had my phone in my hand.
I called Maria.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Then Alexander's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Enzo Moretti's voice came through the speaker.
"Nephew."
Behind him, faint but unmistakable, a child was crying.
My child.
"Daddy!"
The world disappeared beneath my feet.
May you like
Enzo laughed softly.
"Bring me Elena's key. Or your little accident becomes mine."
