Chapter 4 - The Dead Man Walked Into The Morgue
They found Matteo in the morgue.
Or rather, they found a man wearing Matteo's clothes.
Again.
Ronaldo stood over the body.
Same height.
Same build.
Same scar.
But not the same eyes.
The forensic doctor looked uncomfortable.
"Someone wanted you to believe this was your brother."
Ronaldo stared.
"Then where is he?"
"We don't know."
Elsa was still recovering, but she insisted on leaving the hospital.
Ronaldo refused.
"You've been shot three times."
"And you're ignoring me."
"Correct."
"I work for you."
"You don't anymore."
She stared at him.
"What?"
"You're not my secretary."
Her expression fell.
He softened.
"You're something else now."
"What?"
"I don't know yet."
That was the first time she smiled.
Small.
Tired.
Real.
They went to Union Station.
Locker 17 opened with Elsa's key.
Inside was a leather briefcase.
A photograph.
A USB drive.
And a folder containing hospital records.
Ronaldo opened the folder.
His hands began to tremble.
His wife's name.
Alive.
The date.
Nine years ago.
Discharge paperwork.
A private transfer.
Location redacted.
He turned the page.
A signature.
Dr. Helen Morrison.
The same doctor who had signed his wife's death certificate.
Ronaldo's voice went flat.
"Call her."
They found Dr. Morrison at a retirement home outside Chicago.
She was eighty-one.
When Ronaldo showed her the file, she cried.
"I've been waiting nine years."
"For what?"
"For someone to finally ask the right question."
"What happened to my wife?"
"She survived."
The words nearly broke him.
"Where is she?"
"She disappeared."
"With whom?"
"Your brother."
Ronaldo stepped back.
"Matteo?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
The doctor looked at Elsa.
"Because Matteo found out your wife had witnessed something."
"What?"
"Your father's murder."
Ronaldo froze.
"My father died of a heart attack."
"No."
Dr. Morrison shook her head.
"He was poisoned."
Ronaldo's world rearranged itself.
"Who killed him?"
"I don't know."
"Why did Matteo hide my wife?"
"To protect her."
"From whom?"
She swallowed.
"Your mother."
Ronaldo stared at the floor.
His mother again.
Dead for twelve years.
Still controlling everything.
"She wasn't working alone," Dr. Morrison said.
"Who?"
"The attorney."
"Which attorney?"
She wrote the name.
Frank Deluca.
Ronaldo recognized it.
The family lawyer.
A man who had worked for the Falcone family for thirty-seven years.
A man who had attended every funeral.
Every negotiation.
Every trial.
Every private meeting.
Ronaldo's expression changed.
"He's the one."
Elsa nodded.
"Probably."
They returned to the city.
At midnight, Ronaldo entered Deluca's office.
The old lawyer looked up.
"You should not be here."
Ronaldo smiled without warmth.
"That's funny."
Deluca slowly stood.
"What do you want?"
"The truth."
"I've always told you the truth."
"No."
Ronaldo placed the hospital documents on the desk.
"You told me what kept you alive."
Deluca looked at the papers.
His face changed.
Elsa watched from the doorway.
Ronaldo stepped closer.
"Where is my wife?"
Deluca said nothing.
"Where is Matteo?"
Nothing.
Ronaldo leaned over the desk.
"Where is my mother?"
Deluca's face went gray.
That was answer enough.
"You knew."
Deluca whispered, "You don't understand."
"Then explain."
"Your mother built the organization."
"My father did."
"No."
Deluca looked at Elsa.
"Your father was the public face."
Ronaldo's eyes narrowed.
"Who was behind him?"
"The women."
"The women?"
"Your mother. Your wife. Elsa's mother."
Elsa went still.
"My mother?"
Deluca nodded.
"Three women created the money network. Men took credit."
Ronaldo stared.
"Why would my wife disappear?"
"Because she discovered the money had been diverted."
"By whom?"
Deluca closed his eyes.
"Matteo."
Ronaldo shook his head.
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"Then why would he save her?"
"Because he regretted it."
Ronaldo turned to Elsa.
"What did your brother tell you?"
She took a breath.
"He said he was trying to undo what he'd helped build."
"You trusted him?"
"I wanted to."
"Did you?"
"No."
A gunshot cracked through the windows.
Deluca dropped.
Ronaldo grabbed Elsa and pulled her down.
Three guards rushed inside.
Someone fired from across the street.
The shooter fled.
Ronaldo stood over Deluca.
The old lawyer was dead.
On the desk, blood spread across the documents.
But one envelope remained untouched.
Ronaldo opened it.
Inside was a photograph of a woman standing beside a lake.
His wife.
Alive.
Older.
Holding a little boy by the hand.
On the back was written:
Come alone.
Ronaldo looked at Elsa.
She understood.
"That's the trap."
"I know."
"You're going anyway."
"Yes."
She grabbed his arm.
"Then I'm coming."
"No."
"I didn't take three bullets to watch you walk into the fourth."
He stared at her.
The words reached somewhere he had tried to bury.
"You're impossible."
"I've been told."
He almost smiled.
Then he looked at the photograph again.
His dead wife was alive.
His dead brother was alive.
His dead mother might have been alive.
And his former secretary had returned carrying secrets that could burn everything.
He realized something terrifying.
He didn't know which person he was about to meet.
But for the first time in nine years, he wanted his wife back.
May you like
And for the first time in two years, four months, and thirty-one days...
he knew he had a reason not to lose Elsa again.
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