Chapter 5 - The Man Everyone Thought Was Dead
For twenty years, Adrian believed his mother had died because someone wanted to kill his father.
Gabriel told us that wasn't true.
We moved him into the estate medical suite, where a doctor treated two broken ribs, dehydration, and a knife wound along his shoulder.
Adrian stood beside the bed.
“Start from the beginning.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
“Your father, Vittorio, discovered Sofia was secretly collecting evidence against Salvatore.”
“Against his own brother-in-law?”
“Yes.”
“Why would he kill his wife for that?”
“Because Salvatore wasn't acting alone.”
Adrian went still.
Gabriel looked toward Isabella.
“You never knew what Vittorio became.”
Her face hardened.
“Careful.”
“No more careful.”
He looked at Adrian.
“Your father used Salvatore to move weapons through Moretti freight routes.”
Adrian’s expression darkened.
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
“Why would Salvatore help him?”
“Money. Power. And because your father promised him control over the shipping division.”
Gabriel breathed painfully.
“Sofia found out.”
“And planned to expose them?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did Dad's recording say Salvatore believed my father would be at the warehouse?”
“Because Sofia didn't know Vittorio had already discovered the trap.”
Adrian looked away.
Gabriel continued.
“Your father ordered the ventilation bypass installed. Salvatore arranged the fire.”
“And my mother?”
“They expected her to leave before it started.”
The room went silent.
Adrian’s face changed.
“They accidentally killed her?”
Gabriel swallowed.
“Vittorio chose to proceed even after learning she was still inside.”
Isabella whispered, “No.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“I heard him.”
“No.”
“You spent forty years worshiping a monster because admitting what he was would have destroyed you.”
Isabella slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
Gabriel didn't retaliate.
She stood shaking.
“My son would never—”
“Vittorio was not your son.”
I stared.
Adrian turned slowly.
“What?”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
The words came heavily.
“Salvatore wasn't the son who betrayed you.”
Isabella stopped breathing.
“What are you saying?”
“Vittorio.”
Adrian’s father.
Gabriel continued.
“He wasn't a Moretti by blood.”
Isabella sat down.
I could tell from her face that she knew some part of this already.
Adrian saw it too.
“Nonna.”
She looked at him.
“Tell me.”
Her voice trembled.
“When I was nineteen, my sister died giving birth.”
Nobody moved.
“Her husband vanished. I raised the baby.”
“Vittorio?”
She nodded.
“I married your grandfather two years later. He adopted Vittorio privately.”
Adrian laughed bitterly.
“So every family secret eventually becomes another family secret.”
“Adrian—”
“No.”
He walked out.
I followed.
He stood alone in the dark library.
I hesitated.
“This is probably the part where you tell me to leave.”
“Yes.”
I stayed.
He looked at me.
“I said leave.”
“And I've been ignoring your instructions for three days.”
His anger softened.
Barely.
“My entire childhood was built around him.”
“Your father?”
“He taught me loyalty.”
The word tasted bitter in his mouth.
“He told me my mother died because people outside our family wanted what we had.”
“Maybe he wanted you to believe the threat was always outside.”
Adrian looked at me.
I immediately knew I had hit the truth.
“If the enemy was always outside,” I said, “you would never look at him.”
He sat.
For the first time since I met him, Adrian looked tired.
Not physically.
Soul tired.
“I spent half my life becoming him.”
“No.”
His eyes hardened.
“You don’t know what I've done.”
“No. I don't.”
“Then don't absolve me.”
“I wasn't.”
He looked surprised.
“You're terrifying sometimes.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn't a compliment.”
“I know.”
I sat across from him.
“But you've had multiple opportunities to hurt me.”
“Low standard.”
“Yes.”
“You should demand better.”
“I do.”
His gaze held mine.
The silence changed.
Dangerously.
I remembered rule number one.
No kissing.
Apparently my brain had decided rules were interesting primarily because they could be broken.
I stood.
“We should get Gabriel's full story.”
Adrian smiled faintly.
“Running away?”
“Yes.”
“Smart.”
Back in the medical suite, Gabriel explained what happened after the fire.
He had escaped with copies of the shipping records.
Daniel helped hide him.
They planned to meet federal investigators.
But before they could, Daniel’s car was forced off the road.
My mother's hand found mine.
Gabriel's voice cracked.
“I was supposed to be in that car.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Daniel switched vehicles with me.”
Tears blurred my vision.
“He knew?”
“He suspected we were being followed.”
My father hadn't died in a random accident.
He had sacrificed himself.
Gabriel continued.
“After Daniel died, I disappeared completely. I thought Catherine and Elena would be safer if everyone believed the evidence died too.”
Mom’s face hardened.
“You let me raise her alone believing my husband died for nothing.”
“I was afraid.”
“So was I.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
He didn't argue.
“Why come back now?” Adrian asked.
“Because Vittorio died five years ago.”
Adrian frowned.
“My father died nine years ago.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“No.”
The room froze.
“We buried him.”
“You buried someone.”
Adrian stepped toward the bed.
“What are you saying?”
“Vittorio survived.”
Isabella whispered, “Impossible.”
“He disappeared after his supposed death and rebuilt his network through intermediaries.”
My skin crawled.
“Victor,” I said.
Gabriel nodded.
“The man contacting Lydia used the name Victor because it amused him.”
Adrian's face became ice.
“My father is alive.”
“Yes.”
“And he arranged Elena’s presence here.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Gabriel looked at me.
“Because of the missing ledger page.”
I pulled the ledger from the evidence bag.
“What page?”
“The one Daniel removed.”
“Why?”
“It contains account codes tied to Vittorio’s modern network.”
“Where is it?”
Gabriel smiled weakly.
“Daniel never told me.”
My mother suddenly covered her mouth.
Everyone turned.
“Mom?”
She looked at me.
“Elena, your father gave you a book.”
“What book?”
“For your twelfth birthday.”
Memory returned.
A children’s edition of The Secret Garden.
Hardback.
Green cover.
He had written inside it.
For my Ellie, who always finds doors where other people see walls.
My breath caught.
“I still have it.”
“Where?”
“My apartment.”
Adrian grabbed his phone.
“Marco.”
The response came immediately.
“Boss.”
“Search Elena's apartment for an old green book. Secret Garden.”
Mom interrupted.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
“I gave it away.”
“What?”
“After we moved.”
My heart sank.
“To whom?”
“The library donation sale.”
I almost laughed from disbelief.
Adrian stared.
“Which library?”
“Norwalk.”
That was how the most powerful man in Boston ended up spending six hours tracking a twenty-year-old children's book through Connecticut library donation records.
At 11:40 p.m., Marco called.
“We found the sale ledger.”
“And?”
“A collector bought twenty-eight children's books from that batch.”
“Name?”
“Harold Whitcomb.”
My mother gasped.
I looked at her.
“You know him?”
“He was Daniel’s friend.”
Gabriel tried to sit upright.
“Harold?”
“You know him too?”
“He helped us build the duplicate ledger.”
Adrian was already moving.
“Where is he?”
“Cape Cod.”
We left before dawn.
Harold Whitcomb lived alone in a gray house overlooking the winter ocean.
He was eighty-three.
When he opened the door and saw me, he started crying.
“You have Daniel’s eyes.”
I nearly fell apart.
He invited us inside.
The green book sat on his bookshelf.
My childhood copy.
I touched the worn cover.
“You kept it.”
“Your father told me someday you might come looking.”
I looked at Mom.
She was as stunned as I was.
“Dad planned this?”
Harold nodded.
“He knew the book would pass through the donation sale. Your mother volunteered there.”
Mom closed her eyes.
“Daniel, you impossible man.”
Inside the back cover was a hollow compartment.
One folded ledger page.
And a photograph.
Vittorio Moretti.
Alive.
The photograph had been taken only eight months earlier.
Adrian stared at his father.
Behind Vittorio was a modern warehouse.
A sign showed the company name.
Crane Logistics.
Lydia Crane.
Her family.
Not random.
Harold looked at Adrian.
“Your father built another empire.”
“Where?”
“Boston.”
Adrian stared.
“He never left.”
“No.”
My stomach dropped.
“All this time?”
Harold nodded.
“Watching you.”
A phone rang.
Adrian answered.
Marco.
“Boss, Belladonna has been breached.”
Adrian’s face changed.
“Who?”
“We don't know how. Security codes were valid.”
“Isabella?”
A pause.
“Missing.”
Adrian went white.
“What?”
“Your grandmother is gone.”
Then another call appeared on Adrian’s screen.
Unknown number.
He answered.
His father's voice came through.
I knew it before Adrian reacted.
“Hello, son.”
Nobody moved.
Adrian’s hand tightened around the phone.
“You're alive.”
Vittorio laughed.
“You sound disappointed.”
“Where is my grandmother?”
“Safe.”
“You hurt her—”
“You're finally beginning to sound like me.”
“I am nothing like you.”
“No?”
A pause.
“Look beside Elena.”
Adrian turned.
A red laser dot appeared on my chest.
Everything stopped.
Sniper.
Adrian tackled me to the floor as the window shattered.
Harold screamed.
Guards dragged us into cover.
Vittorio’s laughter continued through the phone.
“Bring me the missing ledger page.”
Adrian pressed me beneath him.
“Where?”
“You know the place.”
“The warehouse.”
“Midnight tomorrow.”
“And my grandmother?”
“You get your matriarch.”
“What guarantees do I have?”
“None.”
The call ended.
Adrian looked down at me.
I could feel his heart pounding against mine.
For several seconds neither of us moved.
Then I whispered:
“Rule number one is becoming inconvenient.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
“Elena.”
“Yes?”
“This isn't the time.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
He stood.
I immediately missed the warmth.
Then Adrian Moretti looked at the shattered window, the ledger page in my hand, and the photograph proving his dead father had been watching him for years.
“We're not giving him what he wants,” he said.
I stood.
“What are we doing?”
May you like
His gray eyes hardened.
“We're ending what our parents started.”
