Chapter 5 - The Man Beside Me for Nineteen Years
There are revelations that shock you.
Then there are revelations that reorganize your entire past.
Vittorio’s words did the second.
“You’ve been working beside the man who ordered your father’s death for nineteen years.”
My mind immediately rejected it.
Marco.
It had to mean Marco.
Marco had stood beside me for fifteen years.
Not nineteen.
Wrong timeline.
My house manager?
No.
My attorneys?
Impossible.
Then Vittorio said a name.
“Gianni Bellini.”
Marco’s father.
I stared at him.
“No.”
Vittorio leaned on his cane.
“Yes.”
Gianni Bellini had been my father’s closest adviser.
He taught me how to negotiate.
How to recognize a lie.
How to survive meetings filled with smiling men who wanted me dead.
After my father died, Gianni kept the organization together until I was old enough to take control.
He had been more than an adviser.
He had been the closest thing I had to a second father.
He died seven years ago.
Natural causes.
Or so I had believed.
“You expect me to believe Gianni killed my father?”
“Ordered it.”
“Why?”
“Because your father wanted to dismantle half the organization and take you away.”
I shook my head.
“He would never run.”
“It wasn’t running.”
“Then what?”
“Choosing you.”
Those words hurt more than they should have.
Vittorio continued.
“Your father realized what this life would eventually make you. He wanted you out before you became trapped.”
I looked toward Lily.
She watched quietly, unable to understand the conversation.
“Then why are you doing this?”
Vittorio’s expression hardened.
“Because Gianni stole everything.”
“You’re saying this was revenge against a dead man?”
“No.”
“Then explain.”
“He left a son.”
Marco.
My stomach tightened.
“You’re after Marco.”
“I’m after what Marco inherited.”
“What?”
“The records.”
I stared.
Vittorio glanced toward Lily.
“She was leverage.”
My voice dropped.
“She’s three.”
“So were you once.”
That sentence nearly ended the conversation.
I took one step toward him.
He straightened.
Two men entered from the side room.
I stopped.
Not because I feared them.
Because Lily stood between us.
“You used a child.”
“You use men every day.”
“Not children.”
“Everyone has rules until they’re desperate.”
I looked at Lily.
She clutched Poppy.
Then the house lights flickered.
Vittorio frowned.
Once.
Twice.
Then darkness.
Marco.
I moved instantly.
I heard shouting.
Glass breaking somewhere below.
Lily cried out.
I reached her.
“Lily.”
“Mister Alessandro!”
I picked her up.
She wrapped both arms around my neck.
“Close your eyes.”
“Okay.”
I moved toward the corridor.
Vittorio shouted behind me.
“You still don’t understand!”
I ignored him.
Then emergency lights came on.
A man blocked the door.
Before he could move, someone hit him from behind.
Marco.
He entered breathing hard.
“Go.”
I looked at him.
His face was pale.
“You knew about your father?”
“Not now.”
“Did you know?”
“No!”
“Gianni.”
Marco stopped.
Even in the dim light, I saw the impact.
“What about him?”
“Vittorio says Gianni ordered my father killed.”
Marco stared.
Then something broke in his expression.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“That’s insane.”
“Maybe.”
Lily tightened her arms around me.
“We get her out first.”
Marco nodded.
We moved downstairs.
Clara rushed through the side entrance just as we reached the foyer.
“Lily!”
I lowered the child.
Lily ran.
Clara dropped to her knees and wrapped both arms around her.
The sound she made was something between laughter and sobbing.
“I’m sorry, Mommy.”
“No. No, baby. Never apologize.”
Lily cried into her shoulder.
I watched them.
For one brief second, nothing else mattered.
Then Marco spoke quietly.
“Vittorio’s gone.”
I turned.
“How?”
“Tunnel under the west side.”
“Find him.”
“My men are already moving.”
Clara stood with Lily in her arms.
“We’re leaving.”
I nodded.
“You’ll have protection.”
She hesitated.
“Alessandro.”
“What?”
Lily reached toward me.
I stepped closer.
She touched my face.
“You came.”
“I told you I would.”
“Are we still leaving?”
“No.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
She looked at Clara.
“Mommy too?”
“Yes.”
That answer seemed to satisfy her.
She rested her head on Clara’s shoulder.
Then they left.
I turned toward Marco.
“Tell me everything you know.”
We used the empty study inside Vittorio’s property.
Marco paced.
“My father never told me anything about your father’s death.”
“Would he have?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were seventeen.”
“Sixteen.”
I remembered.
Marco had attended the funeral.
Standing behind Gianni.
Quiet.
Angry.
Almost as lost as I was.
“Did your father keep records?”
“Everyone kept records.”
“Vittorio said you inherited something.”
Marco frowned.
“My father left boxes.”
“Where?”
“Storage.”
“What boxes?”
“Old contracts. Personal papers. Journals maybe.”
“You never opened them?”
“I opened some.”
“And?”
“Nothing important.”
“Bring everything.”
By evening, twenty-three boxes were delivered to the Romano estate.
Clara refused to sleep in the staff wing.
I didn’t blame her.
I moved her and Lily into a guest suite near my private rooms.
Extra security.
No unlocked doors.
No unmonitored exits.
Lily refused to let go of Poppy.
At nine, I found her sitting in her small chair inside my study.
I stopped.
“What are you doing?”
“Coloring.”
“You should be asleep.”
“I had a scary day.”
“That usually means you should sleep more.”
She shook her head.
“Poppy says no.”
“Poppy gives terrible advice.”
She smiled.
Then returned to coloring.
Clara stood in the doorway.
“I told her ten minutes.”
I nodded.
She approached quietly.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Bringing her back.”
“I caused her to leave.”
“You still brought her back.”
I looked toward Lily.
“Vittorio used what I did.”
“Yes.”
“I should have listened before judging you.”
“Yes.”
I glanced at Clara.
“You enjoy agreeing when I criticize myself.”
“A little.”
For the first time that day, I almost laughed.
Then Marco entered carrying a journal.
His face ended the moment.
“We found something.”
I stood.
“What?”
“My father’s handwriting.”
He placed the journal on the desk.
A date was marked nineteen years earlier.
Three days before my father died.
I read the entry.
SALVATORE INSISTS ON LEAVING.
HE SAYS ALESSANDRO DESERVES A LIFE OUTSIDE THIS.
HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THE DAMAGE HIS EXIT WILL CAUSE.
VITTORIO AGREES THAT SOMETHING MUST BE DONE.
I looked at Marco.
“Vittorio agreed?”
He nodded.
“Keep reading.”
The next page:
SALVATORE WILL MEET AT THE OLD RIVER WAREHOUSE FRIDAY NIGHT.
VITTORIO WILL HANDLE THE DRIVER.
I WILL HANDLE THE REST.
My father died Friday night.
At the old river warehouse.
I closed the journal.
Marco looked sick.
“My father and Vittorio planned it together.”
“Yes.”
“But Vittorio told you Gianni did it.”
“He told part of the truth.”
“Why?”
“To turn us against each other.”
We stood in silence.
Then Lily’s voice interrupted.
“What’s this?”
She had pulled a loose photograph from another box.
I took it.
Four men stood outside the old warehouse.
My father.
Gianni.
Vittorio.
And one other man.
A younger man.
I knew his face.
Everyone in the city did.
Councilman Robert Keane.
Now the mayor.
Marco stared at the photograph.
“What was Keane doing with them?”
I turned it over.
A note was written on the back.
FRIDAY. KEANE CONFIRMED PAYMENT. SALVATORE MUST NOT LEAVE.
The mayor had been involved in my father’s death.
And suddenly Vittorio’s return made more sense.
This wasn’t only family revenge.
It was blackmail.
Political leverage.
Old secrets.
Enough to destroy careers and reshape the city.
Then Marco’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His face changed.
“What happened?”
He lowered the phone.
“Vittorio just contacted the mayor.”
“How do you know?”
“We’ve been monitoring Keane’s people.”
“What did Vittorio ask for?”
Marco looked at Lily, then at me.
“He wants immunity.”
“For what?”
“And control of the Romano organization.”
I smiled without humor.
“He won’t get either.”
Marco shook his head.
“There’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“Vittorio told Keane he still has the original evidence.”
“Where?”
“Nobody knows.”
Then Lily held up another drawing.
She had copied a symbol from the photograph.
A small crest engraved on the warehouse door.
Clara looked at it.
“That building still exists?”
I stared at the symbol.
Yes.
The old river warehouse.
The place my father died.
And if Vittorio had hidden the evidence anywhere, it would be there.
But when Marco and I arrived shortly before midnight, someone was already waiting inside.
Mayor Robert Keane.
May you like
Holding a metal box.
And standing beside him was Vittorio Romano.
