Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Dominic pushed Clara behind him.
“Stay here.”
“With three broken ribs? Gladly.”
Despite the fear in her voice, the sarcasm remained.
Dominic climbed the stairs.
Matteo Voss waited in the old study.
At seventy-one, he still dressed like a man expecting photographers.
Gray suit.
Silver hair.
Expensive shoes.
Calm smile.
“Dominic.”
“How did you find us?”
Matteo glanced toward Clara.
“I didn't find you. I followed her.”
Dominic moved toward him.
Matteo raised one hand.
“If I wanted either of you dead, Route Nine would've ended differently.”
Clara stepped from behind Dominic.
“You tried to kill me.”
“No.”
“The man in my apartment had your tattoo.”
“My former security men use that symbol.”
“Convenient.”
Matteo smiled sadly.
“Your mother had the same mouth.”
Clara froze.
Dominic noticed.
“What did you say?”
Matteo looked at her.
“Evelyn was never afraid to insult powerful men either.”
Dominic stepped between them.
“Tell me about Isabella.”
Matteo's expression changed.
“Your mother survived.”
Dominic already knew that much.
“Where is she?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I knew until six months ago.”
“Where?”
“Switzerland.”
Dominic stared at him.
For thirty-five years, he had believed his mother was dead.
“Why?”
“Because Vincent sent her away.”
“My father told me she died.”
“To protect you.”
Dominic almost laughed.
Everyone seemed to lie for protection.
Matteo continued.
“Your father discovered a network operating through his companies. Money laundering, bribery, blackmail. He wanted out.”
“And you killed him.”
“No.”
“Evelyn said—”
“Evelyn didn't know everything.”
“Then who did?”
Matteo looked toward the basement.
“Isabella.”
Before Dominic could respond, glass shattered.
Matteo dropped.
A bullet tore through the window.
Dominic grabbed Clara and pulled her behind a stone wall.
Another shot.
Then another.
Matteo crawled toward cover.
“Still think I'm trying to kill you?”
Dominic drew his weapon.
“Who is?”
Matteo shouted back.
“The same man who killed Vincent!”
Outside, tires screamed.
Silence returned.
Dominic's security arrived minutes later.
The shooter was gone.
But one thing was now obvious.
Matteo was not the only person searching for the ledger.
They returned to Manhattan.
Dominic doubled security.
Clara was furious about it.
“I don't need four men following me to the bathroom.”
“Three.”
“There are four.”
“The fourth is mine.”
“That does not improve the situation.”
Despite everything, Dominic smiled.
Clara noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You smiled.”
“I don't smile.”
“I've worked for you three years. I'm aware.”
Something between them had changed.
Perhaps it had started in the hospital.
Perhaps earlier.
Neither mentioned it.
That night Clara couldn't sleep.
Dominic found her standing beside the penthouse windows.
“You should be in bed.”
“So should you.”
“I live here.”
“Excellent observation.”
He handed her tea.
She looked suspiciously at it.
“You own tea?”
“I had someone buy it.”
“For me?”
“No. For the imaginary injured secretary who lives in my guest room.”
She laughed.
Then immediately held her ribs.
“Don't make me laugh.”
“You started it.”
For a moment they were simply two people awake too late.
No secrets.
No guns.
No dead parents.
Clara looked at him.
“Do you want her to be alive?”
Dominic knew who she meant.
“I don't know.”
“That isn't true.”
He stared at the city.
“I spent thirty-five years believing she left this world. If she's alive, then she spent thirty-five years choosing not to come back.”
“Maybe she didn't have a choice.”
Dominic looked at Clara.
“You always defend people you haven't met?”
“Occupational hazard.”
“You're a secretary.”
“Executive assistant.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Say that again and I'll break your other ribs.”
“You don't have broken ribs.”
“I'll borrow yours.”
He smiled again.
This time neither pretended it hadn't happened.
Then Clara's phone rang.
Unknown number.
Dominic's expression hardened.
Clara answered on speaker.
A woman's voice spoke.
“Clara?”
She froze.
“Yes?”
“You don't know me.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Isabella.”
Dominic stopped breathing.
The woman continued.
“I need to speak with my son.”
Clara slowly handed him the phone.
Dominic could not take it.
For the first time in decades, he looked like the eight-year-old boy who had been told his mother would never come home.
Finally he whispered:
“Mother?”
Silence.
Then crying.
Soft.
Old.
Real.
“My beautiful boy.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
Clara looked away, giving him privacy.
Isabella told them to come to a church in Queens the following afternoon.
No security.
No Matteo.
No police.
Dominic agreed.
The next day Clara insisted on coming.
“You're staying here.”
“She called me first.”
“You can barely walk.”
“I can walk.”
“You nearly fell putting on a shoe.”
“It was a difficult shoe.”
They argued for fifteen minutes.
Clara won.
At 3:00 p.m., they entered the church.
An elderly woman sat alone in the third pew.
Dominic stopped.
Even after thirty-five years, he recognized her.
Isabella stood.
“My son.”
Dominic couldn't move.
So she crossed the distance.
She touched his face.
Then hugged him.
Dominic Gallo, a man feared by half the city, closed his eyes and held his mother.
Clara quietly turned away.
Eventually Isabella noticed her.
“Evelyn's daughter.”
Clara nodded.
“My mother trusted you.”
“She saved my life.”
Then Isabella said something neither expected.
“And your mother also saved Dominic's.”
Clara frowned.
“How?”
Isabella reached into her handbag.
“The ledger everyone is looking for doesn't exist anymore.”
Dominic stared at her.
“What?”
“Evelyn destroyed it.”
“Then why are people still killing for it?”
“Because she made a copy.”
Isabella removed a tiny flash drive.
“But this isn't the copy.”
“What is it?”
“A map showing where Evelyn hid it.”
Clara reached toward the drive.
Isabella pulled it back.
“There is something you need to understand first.”
She looked at Dominic.
“The man who killed your father isn't Matteo.”
“Then who?”
Isabella's eyes filled with fear.
“Someone you've trusted your entire life.”
Dominic felt cold.
“Name him.”
Isabella opened her mouth.
May you like
A gunshot exploded through the church.
Isabella fell into Dominic's arms.
