Chapter 10 - THE BROTHER DANTE NEVER SUSPECTED
Gabriel survived.
The bullet passed cleanly through his shoulder.
While doctors worked, I opened the flash drive he had given me.
The first files were financial.
The second were recordings.
The third folder was labeled:
VITTORIO — 2004.
Inside were scanned letters.
Vittorio had written to Rosa repeatedly after taking Elena.
At first, his letters were protective.
Stay hidden.
Moretti is still watching.
Then they became desperate.
Maria is searching too aggressively.
Lorenzo suspects me.
Then came something worse.
I told Maria I saw Elena die.
Elena stopped reading.
“He told her I died?”
Vittorio stood across the room.
His face gray.
“Yes.”
“You told my mother you watched me die?”
“I thought it would make her stop searching.”
Elena stared.
“You buried me while I was alive.”
Vittorio nodded.
“I did.”
I wanted to hit him.
Instead I asked, “What else?”
He closed his eyes.
“I altered police evidence.”
“How?”
“I planted fabric from Elena’s coat near the river.”
Elena looked sick.
“That’s why authorities assumed drowning.”
“Yes.”
“You destroyed the investigation.”
“Yes.”
Adrian stood beside me.
For the first time, I understood why Gabriel said the files could destroy everyone.
Vittorio’s crimes were real.
Not misunderstood.
Not accidental.
He had committed obstruction.
Fraud.
Evidence tampering.
Kidnapping by concealment.
Maybe more.
“You’re going to prison,” Elena said.
He looked at her.
“I know.”
There was no resistance.
No excuse.
“I came back because I was tired.”
“Tired?”
“Of surviving my own cowardice.”
Elena’s eyes filled.
“You don’t get forgiveness because you confess.”
“I know.”
That answer made her angrier.
She walked out.
I followed.
She stood in the hallway.
“I hate him.”
“I know.”
“And I remember him.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“Not everything.”
“What do you remember?”
She closed her eyes.
“The car.”
I waited.
“After the crash, someone carried me.”
“Vittorio.”
“Yes.”
“He was crying.”
I said nothing.
“He kept saying, ‘I’m sorry, little moon.’”
Her breathing changed.
“And there was another man.”
“Salvatore?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he say?”
Elena opened her eyes.
“He said, ‘If she goes home, the boy dies.’”
Me.
The threat was real.
Vittorio had not invented that part.
Elena leaned against the wall.
“He saved me because he loved me. Then he destroyed my life because he was afraid.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know what to do with that.”
“You don’t have to do anything yet.”
She nodded.
Inside Gabriel’s flash drive was also information about Thomas Keane.
Thomas had spent eight years quietly acquiring control of Moretti companies through shell entities.
Salvatore thought Thomas worked for him.
In reality, Thomas was preparing to replace him.
“Why?” Adrian asked.
Marco found the answer.
Thomas’s original surname was Ames.
Dr. Harold Ames was his father.
Thomas grew up blaming the Valentis for destroying his father’s career after Maria’s death investigation nearly surfaced years earlier.
He joined my family’s legal team to gain access.
Then Moretti recruited him.
But Thomas hated Salvatore too.
He was playing both sides.
The threat to Ames in Florida was not cleanup for Salvatore.
It was a son silencing his father.
“That means Gabriel was right,” I said.
“Salvatore isn’t controlling this anymore.”
Marco nodded.
“Thomas is.”
Then my phone rang.
Salvatore.
I answered.
“You finally understand.”
“You knew Thomas turned on you.”
“I suspected.”
“Where are you?”
“Somewhere he can’t find me.”
“You’re hiding?”
“I prefer repositioning.”
“Cowardice sounds better in Italian?”
Salvatore laughed softly.
Then became serious.
“Thomas has something you need.”
“What?”
“Maria’s original grand jury statement.”
My mother had recorded testimony before she died.
It named Salvatore.
Vittorio.
Ames.
Everyone.
Thomas had stolen it years ago.
“If that recording exists,” I said, “why didn’t you destroy it?”
“I never had it.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because your mother played part of it for me.”
My chest tightened.
“When?”
“Two days before she died.”
“What did she want?”
“To frighten me.”
“Did it work?”
A long pause.
“Yes.”
I believed him.
Salvatore said Thomas planned to sell the recording and ledger information to the highest bidder, protecting himself while destroying both families.
“He’s not loyal to anyone.”
“Neither are you.”
“True.”
“What do you want?”
“A deal.”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard it.”
“I don’t need to.”
“Elena for the evidence.”
The room went silent.
“What did you say?”
“I don’t mean harm her.”
“Choose your next words carefully.”
“Thomas wants her.”
“Why?”
“Because Rosa taught her the code.”
“What code?”
“The account code.”
Elena looked toward me.
Salvatore continued.
“Rosa moved money.”
“What money?”
“My money.”
“How much?”
“Three hundred million dollars.”
Elena stared.
Salvatore’s voice hardened.
“Rosa stole it over twenty years.”
I almost laughed.
“The nurse?”
“She was more than a nurse.”
Apparently she had used Moretti’s own laundering structure against him.
She diverted small amounts for years.
Insurance.
If Moretti harmed Elena, the money would fund investigations and victims.
“Where is it?” I asked.
“Only Elena can access it.”
“She doesn’t know.”
“She will.”
The call ended.
Elena sat down slowly.
“I was a waitress yesterday.”
“Technically four days ago.”
“Not helping.”
Adrian laughed.
Then Elena said something none of us expected.
“Rosa used to make me memorize numbers.”
“What numbers?”
“Bank routing codes?”
“No.”
She closed her eyes.
“A poem.”
“What poem?”
She recited:
Three saints stand where the river bends.
One moon opens what fear defends.
Seven names sleep beneath the stone.
The lost child brings the money home.
Marco stared.
“That is not a children’s poem.”
“No kidding.”
And suddenly we had our next path.
Three saints.
River bend.
Seven names.
Stone.
May you like
Somewhere Rosa had hidden access to Moretti’s stolen fortune.
And Thomas Keane would kill to find it first.
