Chapter 4 - The Deal I Never Agreed To
Everything I believed about Matteo Conti changed the moment he told me my mother had once saved his life.
We drove in silence.
The photograph lay on my lap.
My mother's smile was strange.
Not the smile I remembered.
There was no fear in it.
She looked brave.
My father stood beside her.
And the teenage boy beside them was Matteo.
Younger.
Angrier.
But unmistakably him.
“You were sixteen,” I said.
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“My father suspected I was betraying him.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
“Then why did he want you dead?”
Matteo stared ahead.
“Because my father believed loyalty came before blood.”
I waited.
“He wanted me to kill someone.”
“Who?”
“An innocent man.”
“And you refused.”
“Yes.”
Matteo rubbed his thumb over the steering wheel.
“So your father tried to kill you.”
“I ran.”
“And my mother found you.”
“Yes.”
The pieces came slowly.
She had worked at St. Vincent's.
She would have had access to emergency supplies.
“You were injured.”
“Yes.”
“She helped you.”
“Yes.”
“Then she hid you.”
“For three days.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because she believed a frightened boy deserved another chance.”
My throat tightened.
That sounded like my mother.
Kind.
Stubborn.
Impossible.
“What happened afterward?”
“I left Boston.”
“To where?”
“Europe.”
“For how long?”
“Eight years.”
“Then you came back.”
“Yes.”
“And became…” I gestured.
“A monster?”
“I was going to say crime boss.”
“You can say both.”
For some reason, that made me laugh.
It lasted only a second.
Then the pain returned.
“What does my mother know?”
“Everything.”
“Then we have to find her.”
“We will.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
No response.
Then my mother's voice.
“Emily.”
My heart stopped.
“Mom?”
“Listen carefully.”
“Where are you?”
“Don't ask.”
“Mom!”
“Do exactly what I say.”
I looked at Matteo.
He had heard the voice.
“Go to the old St. Vincent's chapel.”
“What?”
“There is something under the floor.”
“What is it?”
“Your father.”
The call ended.
I couldn't breathe.
Matteo grabbed the phone.
“Trace it.”
Leo was already working.
“Signal bounced through six towers.”
Matteo looked at me.
“We go now.”
The old chapel had been abandoned for years.
Dust covered the pews.
The stained-glass windows were cracked.
I walked to the altar.
“Under the floor,” I whispered.
Matteo found an old maintenance hatch.
Beneath it was a metal box.
Inside:
A passport.
Cash.
A flash drive.
And a letter.
My mother's handwriting.
Emily,
If you're reading this, then I failed to keep the past buried.
I am sorry.
Your father did not abandon us because he stopped loving you.
He stayed away because the people hunting him were willing to kill anyone who could lead them to him.
Matteo was one of the few people he trusted.
That was why I trusted Matteo.
The next line made my heart ache.
Do not confuse a dangerous man with a cruel one.
My eyes burned.
I read on.
There is a ledger hidden behind the wall at St. Vincent's. It contains the names of everyone involved. Daniel Voss was not the mastermind.
I stopped.
Not the mastermind?
Matteo read over my shoulder.
“Who was?”
A final line waited at the bottom.
The person who ordered your father's death has been beside you your entire life.
The paper slipped from my hand.
My life.
Someone beside me.
Someone trusted.
Someone close.
Matteo picked up the passport.
“Your father's name.”
I looked.
The passport belonged to Michael Carter.
My father.
But the photograph showed a different man.
Older.
With a beard.
Still alive.
A folded note fell from the passport.
One address.
A farmhouse in Vermont.
“We go,” I whispered.
Matteo nodded.
Then he said something I didn't expect.
“Not yet.”
I stared.
“What?”
“We have a problem.”
Leo's voice came through the phone.
“What is it?”
“We found out who rented the warehouse.”
“Who?”
Leo hesitated.
“Your mother.”
My blood turned cold.
“What?”
“The lease was signed under Clara Carter's name six months ago.”
I shook my head.
“My mother can't drive anymore.”
“Then someone used her identity.”
Matteo looked at the note.
“Or she was planning something.”
I suddenly understood.
My mother hadn't been only hiding from danger.
She had been preparing for it.
The farmhouse.
The ledger.
The secret identity.
And perhaps the kidnapping.
“Take me to Vermont.”
Matteo studied me.
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“I know you think you're protecting me.”
“I am.”
“But my entire life has been controlled by people who decided what I was allowed to know.”
He stayed silent.
“I won't let you become another one.”
His eyes held mine.
Something changed.
He nodded.
“Fine.”
The trip north took hours.
Snow began falling as we crossed the state line.
I fell asleep for maybe twenty minutes.
When I woke, Matteo had draped his coat over me.
I looked at him.
“You could have asked.”
“You were cold.”
“You notice everything?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
We reached the farmhouse just before dawn.
The front door was unlocked.
Inside, the house was warm.
A fire burned in the fireplace.
On the table was a plate of food.
And a note.
For Emily.
My hands trembled.
I opened it.
He will come for you at sunrise.
Don't trust the man beside you.
I looked at Matteo.
His eyes moved to the same sentence.
He slowly stepped backward.
“Emily.”
“Don't.”
“I didn't write that.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
Because behind him, reflected in the window, stood a man with a gun.
He looked exactly like the photograph.
May you like
My father.
Alive.
