Chapter 5 - The Night The Castellano Estate Burned
They escaped through the basement tunnel.
The old passage opened behind a line of cypress trees half a mile away.
Eli ran beside Simon.
Maddie held Marisol's hand.
Cordelia followed with two guards.
When they reached the cars, Simon turned.
Smoke was visible in the distance.
The River House was burning.
Someone wanted every trace of his mother's secrets destroyed.
"Move," Simon ordered.
They drove back to the city.
But the attack had followed them.
At two in the morning, the Castellano estate lost power.
At two fourteen, the first explosion hit the west wing.
Glass shattered.
Guards screamed.
Simon woke to gunfire.
He ran into the hallway.
"Eli!"
No answer.
"Maddie!"
Marisol shouted from downstairs.
"They're together!"
Simon flew down the staircase.
Smoke rolled through the foyer.
The portrait of Eli's younger self was already burning.
Simon stopped.
Seven years of grief.
Seven years of lies.
The flames were consuming the face he had spent half his life trying not to look at.
He turned away.
A bullet struck the wall beside him.
Vincent returned fire.
"Boss! East exit!"
Simon grabbed Marisol's arm.
"Take the kids."
"What about you?"
"I'm right behind you."
"No."
She looked directly into his eyes.
"You always say that."
"Because I mean it."
"Then move."
For the first time in years, somebody gave Simon Castellano an order without fear.
He almost smiled.
They made it outside.
The estate burned through the night.
By sunrise, half the mansion was black.
The portrait was destroyed.
Eli stood across the lawn, staring.
"That's my picture."
Simon looked at him.
"Yes."
"Do you want another?"
Simon swallowed.
"One day."
Eli nodded.
Not now.
Not yet.
At the hospital, Marisol treated a cut on her forehead.
Maddie slept beside her.
Eli refused to sleep.
Simon sat beside him.
"You should rest."
"You should too."
"I'm older."
"So?"
Simon smiled.
The boy had his stubbornness.
Eli looked at him.
"Are you really my brother?"
"Yes."
"How do you know?"
Simon pulled out the old photograph.
Eli studied it.
"You were younger."
"Much."
"Mom says you always looked angry."
Simon laughed.
"That's true."
Eli touched the photograph.
"Did you miss me?"
Every carefully guarded wall inside Simon cracked.
"I looked for you every day."
"Even when you thought I was dead?"
"Especially then."
Eli nodded.
"I thought somebody would come."
Simon looked at him.
"Who?"
"You."
Simon's eyes filled.
He turned away.
He had been raised never to cry.
Never in front of soldiers.
Never in front of enemies.
Never in front of family.
But he was crying now.
Eli moved closer.
"Can I hug you?"
Simon looked at him.
"Please."
The boy threw his arms around him.
Simon held him.
Tightly.
Carefully.
Like the last seven years had never happened.
Behind the door, Marisol watched.
Cordelia stood beside her.
"He loves him."
"I know."
"You love him too."
Marisol didn't answer.
Cordelia smiled faintly.
"That isn't a crime."
Marisol looked at Simon.
"No."
"But it scares you."
"Everything about him scares me."
"Because he's dangerous?"
"No."
Marisol whispered:
"Because he's the first man I've ever met who makes me want to believe I don't have to do everything alone."
Cordelia squeezed her shoulder.
"Then perhaps he isn't your danger."
Meanwhile, the investigation into the attack uncovered a startling fact.
The explosives had been purchased through a company owned by Rafael Castellano.
Rafael was alive.
And he was coming for Eli.
Simon knew the next move.
He arranged a meeting with Rafael.
At an abandoned church outside the city.
Rafael arrived alone.
Older.
Gray at the temples.
Still carrying himself like family royalty.
Simon stood across from him.
"You lied to me."
Rafael smiled.
"I protected you."
"You tried to kill my brother."
"No."
"Then why is your company linked to the attack?"
"Because I no longer control it."
Simon narrowed his eyes.
"Who does?"
Rafael looked past him.
"Your mother."
Simon froze.
"She's dead."
"Yes."
"So stop saying her name."
Rafael reached into his coat.
He pulled out a letter.
"Your mother knew I was trying to take control."
"Of what?"
"The family."
"Why?"
"Because your father was dying."
Simon stared.
"His death wasn't natural."
Rafael nodded.
"Your father knew someone was poisoning him."
"What?"
"Slowly."
Simon felt sick.
"My father died of heart failure."
"He was murdered."
"And my mother?"
"She found out."
"Then why did she die?"
Rafael looked away.
"Because she found the wrong person."
"Who?"
Rafael stared at Simon.
"Your uncle?"
"No."
"John Barone?"
"No."
"Then who?"
Rafael whispered:
"Your father's closest friend."
Simon froze.
"Who?"
Rafael smiled bitterly.
"You have been calling him every week."
The answer was impossible.
Simon returned to the estate.
He opened his phone.
The last person he had spoken to that morning was Vincent.
His second-in-command.
His most trusted man.
The man who had been with him for fifteen years.
Simon stood in the ruins of his house.
"Vincent."
"Yes, boss?"
"Where were you the night the estate burned?"
Vincent looked at him.
"Outside with you."
"No."
Simon raised his gun.
"You were gone for six minutes."
Vincent's expression changed.
"Simon."
"You knew the attack was coming."
"No."
"You knew where the children were."
"No."
"Then explain why the attackers knew about the basement tunnel."
Vincent said nothing.
Simon stepped closer.
"Who are you working for?"
Vincent looked toward Eli.
Then Marisol.
Then back at Simon.
"I never wanted them hurt."
"That's not an answer."
Vincent lowered his head.
"I'm working for the man who paid for your father's murder."
Simon stared.
"Who?"
Vincent closed his eyes.
And whispered:
"Tomás Vega."
Marisol's father.
Dead seven years.
Except Vincent's voice held the truth they had all missed.
May you like
Tomás Vega wasn't dead.
He had been hiding too.
