Chapter 9 - A Father’s Confession Without a Voice
Salvatore’s blood pressure was 208 over 114.
Norah stopped caring about mysteries.
For the next hour, there was no Elena.
No Victor.
No Paolo.
No Moretti empire.
There was only a fragile eighty-year-old man whose cardiovascular system was approaching catastrophe.
“Move,” she ordered.
Men who terrified half the state moved.
Dominic helped transfer his father onto a stretcher.
Norah administered medication from the emergency kit Frank had brought.
She monitored Salvatore during the drive.
Dominic sat opposite.
Salvatore’s good hand remained wrapped around his son’s fingers.
Neither acknowledged it.
At the estate, a private physician examined him.
No new stroke.
No major injury.
Severe hypertensive episode.
Exhaustion.
Dehydration.
He needed rest.
Salvatore disagreed.
An hour after the doctor left, he demanded his communication board.
Norah took it away.
He glared.
“No.”
He struck the mattress.
“You nearly had another stroke.”
Another strike.
“No.”
Dominic appeared in the doorway.
“He’ll keep doing that.”
“Then he can build muscle.”
Dominic entered.
Salvatore pointed at him.
“I know,” Dominic said. “I have questions.”
Norah folded her arms.
“And he will answer them tomorrow.”
Father and son looked at her.
For the first time, their expressions were nearly identical.
Annoyed.
Norah stared.
“Oh, that is disturbing.”
Dominic’s mouth twitched.
Salvatore made a sound that might have been laughter.
It was the first time Norah heard it.
She froze.
So did Dominic.
The sound was rough.
Broken.
But unmistakable.
Salvatore had laughed.
A silence followed.
Then Dominic looked away as though the moment was too intimate to witness.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
Salvatore finally nodded.
The next morning, sunlight replaced the rain.
Norah opened the curtains.
Salvatore complained with a grunt.
“You’ve been living like Dracula.”
He pointed at the board.
CURTAINS.
“Yes, I know what curtains are.”
CLOSE.
“No.”
His eye narrowed.
“Vitamin D.”
Salvatore responded with a gesture Norah suspected was not polite.
At ten, Dominic entered carrying coffee.
He handed one cup to Norah.
She looked at it.
“What?”
“You drink coffee.”
“How do you know?”
“You’ve worked here three weeks.”
“That is alarmingly observant.”
He sat.
Salvatore watched them.
Norah noticed the old man’s gaze moving between them.
“Don’t.”
He looked innocent.
“Whatever thought you are having, stop.”
Dominic frowned.
“What thought?”
“Nothing.”
Salvatore almost smiled.
Norah gave him the board.
Dominic unfolded Victor’s photograph.
“Who ordered my mother’s death?”
Salvatore’s expression became serious.
He pointed:
PIETRO.
Dominic placed the photograph beside him.
“Victor says you’re lying.”
ANGER appeared in Salvatore’s face.
Norah intervened.
“Slow.”
Salvatore breathed.
Then spelled.
VICTOR.
KNEW.
“Victor knew about the plan?”
YES.
“Did he help?”
Salvatore paused.
YES.
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“Then why is he trying to make me think you ordered it?”
Salvatore pointed:
PROTECT.
HIMSELF.
Then:
PIETRO.
DEAD.
PAOLO.
WEAK.
VICTOR.
POWER.
Norah translated the fragmented message.
“Pietro is dead. Paolo isn’t as powerful. Victor has the most to lose.”
Salvatore nodded.
Dominic leaned back.
“You kept Victor close.”
Salvatore looked ashamed.
“Why?”
PROOF.
“You were trying to gather proof?”
YES.
“For twenty-eight years?”
Salvatore hesitated.
Then wrote:
COWARD.
Dominic looked at him.
Salvatore pointed to himself.
COWARD.
The room became quiet.
Dominic’s voice lowered.
“You think you were a coward.”
Yes.
“Because you didn’t expose them.”
Yes.
“Why didn’t you?”
Salvatore moved his finger.
DOMINIC.
Dominic’s face hardened.
“Stop using me as the reason for every terrible decision you made.”
Norah almost intervened.
Salvatore lifted his hand.
He wanted Dominic to continue.
“You sent me away.”
Salvatore nodded.
“You let me hate you.”
Another nod.
“You stayed in the business.”
Yes.
“You worked with Pietro after he murdered my mother.”
Pain crossed Salvatore’s face.
Yes.
Dominic rose.
“You attended Christmas dinner with him.”
Yes.
“You stood beside him at my wedding.”
Salvatore closed his eye.
Dominic’s voice shook.
“You called him brother.”
Salvatore pointed:
WATCH.
“Because you were watching him?”
YES.
“Then why didn’t you kill him?”
Norah stiffened.
Salvatore did not.
He pointed slowly.
PROMISE.
“What promise?”
ELENA.
Dominic stopped.
Salvatore spelled:
NO.
MORE.
BLOOD.
Norah’s throat tightened.
Elena’s final demand.
Basta con il sangue.
Enough with the blood.
“She made you promise,” Dominic whispered.
Salvatore nodded.
“You could have killed Pietro.”
Yes.
“But you didn’t.”
Yes.
“And you thought living beside him was keeping the promise?”
Salvatore’s face crumpled slightly.
He knew how inadequate it sounded.
He spelled:
WRONG.
Dominic looked away.
Salvatore continued.
TRIED.
PROTECT.
LOST.
YOU.
Dominic stared at the wall.
Norah could feel years breaking open between them.
Salvatore tapped the board again.
SORRY.
Dominic closed his eyes.
The word was too small.
It could not contain a mother’s funeral.
Boarding school.
Three decades of hatred.
But it was the first real apology.
Dominic turned.
“You should have told me.”
Salvatore nodded.
“You should have trusted me.”
Another nod.
“You should have chosen me over the family.”
Salvatore’s eye filled.
He pointed:
YES.
Dominic’s anger faded into grief.
Norah quietly stood to leave.
Salvatore touched her wrist.
She paused.
He pointed toward Dominic.
STAY.
Norah sat again.
Salvatore’s next words came slowly.
VICTOR.
HAS.
LIST.
“What list?” Dominic asked.
Salvatore spelled:
JUDGES.
POLICE.
MEN.
PAY.
Dominic went cold.
“His current network.”
Yes.
“Where?”
Salvatore looked at Frank, who had entered silently.
Then:
CHURCH.
Frank frowned.
“What church?”
Salvatore pointed.
ELENA.
Dominic understood.
“The church where Mom is buried.”
Yes.
Then:
HER.
STONE.
Dominic stared.
“You hid Victor’s list at her grave?”
Yes.
“Why?”
Salvatore moved one trembling finger.
ONLY.
PLACE.
HE.
WOULD.
NOT.
GO.
Norah looked at Dominic.
“Why wouldn’t Victor go?”
Dominic’s voice turned quiet.
“Because he was in love with my mother.”
Salvatore closed his eye.
Another secret.
Victor had not merely helped Pietro stop Elena from leaving.
He had spent his life wanting the woman who chose Salvatore instead.
May you like
And somewhere beneath Elena’s gravestone lay the names of the people still protecting him.
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