Chapter 3 - The Lie Her Mother Took to the Grave
Gemma read the note five times.
The words didn't change.
He killed your mother.
Her mother, Elena Bellini, had died six years earlier.
Official cause: a highway accident outside Philadelphia.
Rain.
A truck.
A guardrail.
Gemma had spent years trying to accept that random tragedies happened to good people.
Now Roman Costa stood ten feet away.
And everything she believed was beginning to collapse.
"Tell me it's a lie."
Roman remained silent.
Gemma's heart sank.
"Tell me."
"I didn't kill your mother."
"But you know something."
"Yes."
"What?"
Roman walked toward the window.
Gemma hated how calm he appeared.
She grabbed the crystal glass from the table and threw it.
It shattered against the wall beside him.
Roman didn't flinch.
"Stop protecting me from information!"
"I'm protecting you from what happens after you know it."
"My mother is dead!"
Roman turned.
"So are many people who knew what your father knew."
Gemma stared.
"Then tell me."
Roman finally did.
Antonio Bellini had been more than a forger.
He had become Roman's father's confidant.
When Roman was twenty-four, the Costa organization had been controlled by his father, Vittorio.
Vittorio was ruthless.
Roman did not romanticize him.
Antonio discovered that Vittorio had been secretly financing a network of corrupt officials and arranging killings through intermediaries.
He copied everything.
Then disappeared.
Roman had been ordered to find him.
"Did you?"
"Yes."
Gemma's breathing stopped.
"Where?"
"Boston."
"And?"
"I let him go."
Gemma blinked.
"Why?"
Roman looked toward her.
"Because he had a little girl."
Gemma understood.
"Me."
"You were sleeping in the back seat of his car."
A strange pressure filled her chest.
Roman had seen her before.
Eleven years earlier.
"He begged me not to tell my father where he was."
"What did you do?"
"I told Vittorio Antonio had escaped."
Gemma studied him.
"Why?"
Roman's answer was quiet.
"Because I was tired of children paying for their fathers' wars."
That was the first moment Gemma wondered whether the monster described in newspapers and the man standing before her might not be exactly the same person.
But one question remained.
"My mother."
Roman's expression darkened.
"Vittorio eventually found Antonio through Elena."
Gemma felt sick.
"My mother helped him?"
"No. She refused."
Roman paused.
"My father ordered her killed."
Gemma covered her mouth.
"No."
"I found out afterward."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"No."
Roman moved closer.
"I expect you to survive long enough to discover the truth yourself."
His phone rang.
Dominic.
Roman answered.
"Talk."
His expression hardened.
"We're coming."
He hung up.
"What?"
"We found the shooter."
"Alive?"
"For now."
Roman ordered Gemma to remain in the penthouse.
She refused.
Ten minutes later, she was sitting beside him in the SUV.
"You are incredibly difficult," Roman said.
"You're a mafia boss. Adjust."
Roman looked at her.
For half a second, amusement appeared.
Then vanished.
They arrived at an abandoned warehouse near the river.
Dominic waited inside.
A wounded man sat tied to a chair.
Gemma stopped.
Roman looked at her.
"You wanted answers."
The prisoner raised his head.
When he saw Gemma, he smiled.
"Antonio's girl."
Roman's entire body became still.
"Who hired you?"
The man laughed.
"Ask her father."
Gemma stepped forward.
"My father ordered someone to shoot me?"
"Not you."
The prisoner looked at Roman.
"Him."
Roman frowned.
"But the shot—"
"Warning."
Gemma stared.
"Why?"
The prisoner looked directly at her.
"Because Costa isn't the only man watching you."
Before Roman could ask another question, the warehouse lights went out.
Gunfire erupted.
Roman grabbed Gemma and pulled her behind a concrete pillar.
Dominic returned fire.
Men shouted.
Then silence.
Emergency lights flickered on.
The prisoner was dead.
Shot through the chest.
But someone had placed something beside his chair during the confusion.
A photograph.
Roman picked it up.
Gemma looked over his shoulder.
Her knees nearly gave way.
The photograph had been taken yesterday.
Her father stood outside her Brooklyn apartment.
Older.
Gray hair.
But unmistakable.
Antonio Bellini.
Alive.
On the back was an address.
And beneath it:
MIDNIGHT. GEMMA COMES ALONE.
Roman tore the photograph in half.
"No."
Gemma grabbed it.
"That's my father."
"It's a trap."
"I don't care."
"I do."
The words escaped Roman before he could stop them.
Gemma looked up.
The warehouse suddenly seemed very quiet.
Roman's eyes remained on hers.
Something had changed.
Neither of them named it.
At 11:58 p.m., Gemma entered the abandoned church written on the photograph.
Roman had agreed she could go alone.
Technically.
He simply neglected to mention the six armed men surrounding the building.
Gemma walked toward the altar.
"Dad?"
Silence.
Then footsteps.
An older man emerged from the darkness.
Gemma stopped breathing.
"Gem."
Only one person had ever called her that.
Her eyes filled.
"Dad?"
Antonio Bellini began crying.
Gemma crossed the room.
He embraced her.
For several seconds, she was fourteen again.
Then anger returned.
She pushed him away.
"You were alive."
"I had to disappear."
"Mom died thinking you abandoned us."
"No."
Antonio's expression changed.
"Your mother knew."
Gemma froze.
"What?"
"Elena helped me disappear."
"Why?"
"To protect you."
Gemma's mind reeled.
Antonio looked toward the entrance.
"Did Costa follow you?"
"No."
"You're lying."
Gemma said nothing.
Antonio grabbed her shoulders.
"You have to stay away from him."
"He saved my life."
"Roman Costa destroys everything he touches."
"Did he kill Mom?"
Antonio hesitated.
That hesitation mattered.
"Did he?"
"No."
Gemma closed her eyes.
Roman had told the truth.
"Then who did?"
Antonio looked suddenly exhausted.
"Roman's father ordered it."
"I know."
"But Roman is becoming his father."
Gemma shook her head.
"You don't know him."
Antonio laughed bitterly.
"And you do?"
A sound came from outside.
Antonio's face changed.
"They found us."
"Who?"
He pulled Gemma toward a side door.
"There's no time."
"Who?"
Antonio pressed a small brass key into her hand.
"Your mother hid the ledger."
"Where?"
"The painting."
"What painting?"
Antonio stared into her eyes.
"The one you've been restoring."
Gemma's blood turned cold.
The centerpiece painting at Roman's gallery.
Antonio whispered:
"The ledger isn't paper."
"What?"
"It's underneath the original canvas."
Gunfire exploded outside.
Antonio pushed Gemma toward the door.
"Run!"
Roman burst through the opposite entrance.
"Gemma!"
She turned.
A gunshot cracked.
Antonio jerked backward.
Blood spread across his shirt.
"DAD!"
Gemma caught him as he fell.
Roman fired toward the balcony.
The shooter disappeared.
Gemma knelt beside Antonio.
"No, no, no."
Antonio struggled to breathe.
He looked at Roman.
Then Gemma.
"Your mother..."
Blood touched his lips.
"...left something else."
"What?"
Antonio reached into his pocket.
His hand fell before he could retrieve it.
Gemma screamed.
Roman knelt beside her.
Antonio was dead.
Gemma reached into her father's pocket herself.
She found a photograph.
Her mother.
Antonio.
And a much younger Roman.
All three standing together.
On the back, Elena had written one sentence:
Roman knows what really happened the night Gemma was born.
Gemma slowly raised her head.
Roman's face told her everything.
May you like
He knew exactly what the message meant.
---
