Chapter 3 - The Name Her Mother Buried
Sarah had spent twenty-four years believing her father was named Daniel Bennett.
A construction worker.
Killed in an accident before she could remember him.
There was one photograph.
A young man holding a baby beneath a maple tree.
Her mother had kept it inside a Bible.
Sarah had never questioned the story.
Why would she?
Now Gabriel sat across from her saying the dead man in that photograph had another name.
“Daniel Bennett was an alias,” Gabriel said.
Sarah felt numb.
“What was his real name?”
Gabriel hesitated.
“Daniel Moretti.”
The surname landed like broken glass.
Sarah knew it.
Everyone in Gabriel’s world knew it.
Moretti.
The family whose name had been mentioned in whispered meetings.
The organization Gabriel’s men considered a rival.
“No.”
“Sarah—”
“No.”
She pushed herself upright despite the pain.
“My father fixed roofs. He wasn’t…”
She could not finish.
“A criminal?”
Gabriel’s silence answered.
Sarah looked away.
“What does that make me?”
“Exactly the person you were yesterday.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“No.”
His voice became firm.
“It isn’t.”
Gabriel explained carefully.
Daniel Moretti had been the younger brother of Victor Moretti, a man who eventually built one of the Rossi family’s largest rival organizations.
But Daniel had wanted out.
He disappeared before Sarah was born.
Changed his name.
Married Sarah’s mother.
Tried to become ordinary.
Then he died.
Not in a construction accident.
He was murdered.
Sarah stood too quickly.
Pain stabbed through her side.
Gabriel caught her.
“Don’t.”
She shoved his hand away.
“You knew?”
“Not until yesterday.”
“But you knew him.”
“I met him twice.”
“Was your family responsible?”
“No.”
She searched his face.
“You expect me to trust that?”
“No.”
That answer stopped her.
Gabriel continued quietly.
“I expect you to question everything now.”
Sarah sat.
“Why would my uncle care about me after twenty-four years?”
“We don’t know that Victor is behind this.”
“But you think he is.”
“I think somebody wanted Leo dead and somebody wanted you watched.”
Gabriel leaned forward.
“The coincidence is too large.”
Sarah’s mind raced.
“Why hire me here?”
“Maybe to use you later.”
“I never applied directly. An agency sent me.”
“We checked.”
Gabriel’s expression darkened.
“The agency recruiter received a payment to place you specifically in my household.”
Sarah stared.
Two years.
Every polished floor.
Every late-night tray.
Every moment she believed she was invisible.
Someone had put her there.
The thought was terrifying.
“What happens now?”
“You recover.”
“And then?”
“You choose.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m done deciding your life for you.”
Sarah remembered their argument.
Apparently Gabriel did listen.
Even when pretending not to.
Over the next two weeks, Sarah recovered enough to leave the medical wing.
Gabriel moved her into a guest suite.
She protested.
He ignored the protest.
Leo celebrated by covering the bedroom door with construction-paper trains.
Sarah accepted the new job.
Not because of the salary.
Because Leo needed her.
And, though she was reluctant to admit it, she needed him too.
The attack had changed the boy.
He followed Sarah constantly.
If she left a room without warning, panic crossed his face.
At night, he dreamed about shattering glass.
Sarah began sitting outside his bedroom until he fell asleep.
One evening Gabriel found her there.
She was reading.
He leaned against the wall.
“You don’t have to do this every night.”
“I know.”
“He’ll become dependent.”
“Maybe.”
Gabriel frowned.
Sarah closed the book.
“He watched someone nearly die protecting him. Security is not dependence right now. It’s medicine.”
Gabriel looked through the open doorway.
Leo slept beneath a blue blanket.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
Sarah heard something rare in his voice.
Helplessness.
“Do what?”
“Raise him without turning him into me.”
Sarah studied Gabriel.
“You love him.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m good at it.”
“No.”
She stood.
“But worrying about whether you’re hurting him already puts you ahead of a lot of fathers.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“You always talk to me like I’m normal.”
“You are normal.”
He almost laughed.
“No one has accused me of that before.”
Sarah walked toward the stairs.
Gabriel followed.
“Sarah.”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
She stopped.
“For what?”
“Not being afraid of me.”
She considered correcting him.
She was afraid of Gabriel sometimes.
Not because she thought he would hurt her.
Because she was beginning to care what he thought.
That was more dangerous.
Three days later, Mrs. Gable agreed to talk.
Not to Gabriel.
To Sarah.
They met in a secure room beneath the estate.
The former nanny looked twenty years older.
“I didn’t know they were going to kill Leo,” she said immediately.
Sarah remained silent.
“They told me they wanted to frighten Gabriel. Force him to move the boy.”
“You gave them security schedules.”
“I know.”
“Leo trusted you.”
Mrs. Gable began crying.
Sarah felt no sympathy.
“Who gave you the photographs?”
“A woman.”
“Name?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did she look like?”
Mrs. Gable hesitated.
“Blonde. Maybe forty. Expensive clothes.”
“Isabella?”
“I never saw Mrs. Rossi.”
Sarah leaned forward.
“Then why use her account?”
“They wanted Mr. Rossi to think she was alive.”
Sarah froze.
“Wanted him to think?”
Mrs. Gable realized her mistake.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
Mrs. Gable looked toward the camera.
Sarah understood.
Someone had constructed a ghost.
Isabella’s account.
Isabella’s name.
Enough evidence to destabilize Gabriel.
But why?
Sarah stood.
Mrs. Gable grabbed her wrist.
“There’s something you need to know.”
Sarah pulled away.
“What?”
“The woman asked about you constantly.”
“What did she want?”
“To know whether Gabriel noticed you.”
Sarah’s pulse accelerated.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“She asked whether you spent time with Leo. Whether Gabriel spoke to you. Whether you had told anyone about your father.”
“My father?”
Mrs. Gable nodded.
“And there was one other thing.”
Sarah waited.
“She told me if anything went wrong, you were supposed to survive.”
Sarah went still.
“The attackers were shooting directly at Leo.”
“I know.”
“So why protect me?”
Mrs. Gable whispered:
“Because they need you alive for Victor Moretti.”
That evening, Gabriel ordered security doubled.
Sarah found him in his study.
“You knew.”
He looked up.
“That Victor might be involved?”
“That he might want me alive.”
“I suspected.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you were recovering.”
“That is not your decision.”
“You’re right.”
Sarah stopped.
Gabriel stood.
“I’m learning.”
The anger drained from her slightly.
He approached.
“Victor Moretti has no children.”
“So?”
“You are his brother’s only child.”
Sarah understood.
“He thinks I’m family.”
“He may think you’re more than that.”
Gabriel opened a file.
Inside were corporate records.
Trust documents.
Photographs.
“Daniel Moretti owned shares in several legitimate companies before disappearing. Those shares were placed into trust.”
“For who?”
Gabriel looked directly at her.
“You.”
Sarah laughed once from disbelief.
“I clean toilets.”
“Not anymore.”
“How much?”
Gabriel did not answer.
“How much, Gabriel?”
“Approximately eighty-four million dollars.”
Sarah sat down.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then she laughed again.
It sounded almost hysterical.
“I have thirty-seven dollars in my checking account.”
Gabriel’s mouth twitched.
“You should probably avoid overdraft fees.”
Sarah glared at him.
“That was a joke?”
“I’m trying them.”
“Stop.”
“I probably should.”
Despite everything, she laughed.
And Gabriel smiled.
Then the study door opened.
Marco entered carrying an envelope.
“No return address.”
Gabriel took it.
Inside was a photograph.
Sarah recognized the location immediately.
Her mother’s house.
The photograph had been taken that morning.
On the back were six words.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT HER SAFE.
Sarah stopped breathing.
“My mother.”
Gabriel reached for his phone.
Sarah grabbed his wrist.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“They said alone.”
“And you think I’m letting you walk into that?”
“It’s my mother.”
“It’s a trap.”
“I know.”
Their faces were inches apart.
Gabriel’s voice lowered.
“I already watched you nearly die once.”
Sarah’s eyes burned.
“And I will not let my mother die because everyone around me thinks I need protecting.”
For a long moment, neither moved.
Then Gabriel released a slow breath.
“All right.”
Sarah blinked.
“All right?”
“You go.”
She stared at him suspiciously.
“And?”
“And I break every other rule.”
Hours later Sarah arrived at the address printed beneath the photograph.
An abandoned church.
She entered alone.
At least, she appeared alone.
A man stood at the altar.
Late sixties.
Silver hair.
Perfect black suit.
Victor Moretti.
Sarah had never seen him before.
Yet she recognized something in his face.
Her father.
Victor smiled.
“My niece.”
“Where is my mother?”
“Safe.”
“I want to see her.”
“In time.”
Sarah’s hands tightened.
“You arranged the attack.”
“No.”
“Mrs. Gable worked for you.”
“She worked for someone who wanted you to believe she worked for me.”
Sarah froze.
Victor’s smile disappeared.
“The person trying to destroy Gabriel Rossi is not me.”
“Then who?”
Victor stepped closer.
“The same person who killed your father.”
Sarah’s heart hammered.
“Who?”
Victor looked toward the dark church windows.
Then back at her.
“Gabriel’s father.”
Sarah stared.
“Gabriel’s father is dead.”
Victor nodded.
“Yes.”
Then he delivered the sentence that changed everything.
“But the person who ordered Daniel’s death isn’t.”
Sarah swallowed.
“Who is?”
Victor’s answer was barely a whisper.
May you like
“Gabriel’s mother.”
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