Chapter 4 - The Debt Her Mother Never Told Her About
Avery did not sleep.
At three in the morning, Manhattan glowed beyond Cameron’s windows while she sat barefoot on a sofa holding her father’s old locket.
The memory card rested on the table.
Cameron had gone downstairs to speak with his security team.
He had avoided her final question.
That irritated Avery more than it should have.
Unless she chooses to stay.
What did that mean?
Stay in New York?
Stay under Cameron’s protection?
Stay with him?
She immediately rejected the last thought.
Then thought about it again.
Dom had been part of her mornings for almost a year.
His empty mug.
His dry humor.
His questions about Elena.
The strange calm Avery experienced whenever she looked toward booth nine and saw him there.
She had never asked why she noticed when he was late.
Never asked why she remembered the exact morning he first smiled at her.
Never asked why she occasionally chose lipstick on days she knew he would come.
Now everything felt contaminated by secrets.
At six, Elena entered wearing a robe provided by Cameron’s housekeeper.
“You’re awake.”
“So are you.”
“Mothers don’t sleep when their daughters discover criminal conspiracies before breakfast.”
Avery smiled weakly.
Elena sat.
“You’re angry with me.”
“Yes.”
“I understand.”
“That makes it worse.”
“I know.”
Avery looked at her.
“Did Dad save Cameron?”
Elena nodded.
“How?”
“Lorenzo Moretti died suddenly. Cameron was young. Everyone around him wanted something.”
“That doesn’t explain Dad.”
“Vincent discovered a bomb attached beneath Cameron’s car.”
Avery stared.
“What?”
“He removed Cameron from the parking garage before it detonated.”
“When?”
“Eight years ago. Three months before your father died.”
Avery felt sick.
“Why didn’t police investigate?”
“They did. Nothing was proven.”
“And Dad kept working?”
“Your father believed leaving would put us in greater danger.”
Avery looked toward the hallway.
“Cameron thinks he owes us.”
“Yes.”
“That’s why he comes to the diner?”
Elena was silent.
“Mom?”
“It started that way.”
Avery frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Elena smiled sadly.
“He was supposed to check on you once.”
“Once?”
“Rosa called me after the first week. She said Cameron had been there every morning.”
Heat touched Avery’s face.
Elena noticed.
“Oh.”
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
Elena laughed softly.
For the first time in days, Avery heard her mother sound like herself.
Then Elena’s smile faded.
“There is another thing.”
Avery sighed.
“Apparently our family motto.”
Elena reached into her robe pocket and placed a folded document on the table.
“What is this?”
“A hospital statement.”
Avery unfolded it.
Her breath stopped.
The outstanding balance from Elena’s treatments—nearly eighty-seven thousand dollars—was marked paid.
Avery stared.
“We still owed twenty-nine thousand.”
“No.”
“What?”
“We owed more.”
“How much?”
“After your father died, we had nothing. Insurance rejected part of his claim. There were debts you never knew about.”
“How much, Mom?”
“Almost three hundred thousand.”
Avery felt dizzy.
“Where did it go?”
Elena looked toward Cameron’s study.
“No.”
“Avery—”
“No.”
“He paid it.”
“Cameron paid three hundred thousand dollars?”
“Over the years.”
“Why?”
“Because your father saved his life.”
Anger rose again.
“He should have told me.”
“Would you have accepted it?”
“No.”
“That’s why he didn’t.”
Avery stood.
“That isn’t noble. That’s controlling.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re defending him?”
“No. I’m telling you that gratitude can make people do strange things.”
“Gratitude?”
Elena studied her daughter.
“You think gratitude is why a man worth billions sits in a vinyl booth drinking bad diner coffee seven mornings a week?”
Avery opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Elena stood.
“I’m going back to bed.”
“Coward.”
“Absolutely.”
At seven fifteen, Avery found Cameron in the dining room.
He was drinking coffee.
She stared at the cup.
“You have a professional kitchen.”
“Yes.”
“Probably beans harvested by monks on a private mountain.”
“Possibly.”
“And you drink Rosa’s coffee every morning.”
“I like Rosa’s coffee.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
He lowered the cup.
“You found out about the medical bills.”
“Three hundred thousand dollars.”
“Approximately.”
“You don’t get to say approximately about three hundred thousand dollars.”
He stood.
“Your mother needed treatment.”
“She had insurance.”
“Not enough.”
“You had no right.”
“I know.”
The answer surprised her.
“You know?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“Because having no right to help someone does not always mean you should let them suffer.”
Avery stared.
“That sounds like something you’ve rehearsed.”
“I’ve had eight years.”
She looked away.
“Was my father a debt?”
Cameron’s face hardened.
“No.”
“Am I?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
He did not answer.
Avery laughed without humor.
“There it is again.”
“What?”
“The silence.”
Cameron stepped closer.
“You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
He looked directly into her eyes.
“I went to Rosa’s the first morning because your mother asked me to check on you.”
Avery waited.
“I went the second morning because you remembered an old man needed his toast cut differently.”
She said nothing.
“The third morning, you gave breakfast to a homeless woman and told Rosa you had entered the wrong order so she wouldn’t know you paid for it.”
Avery’s breathing changed.
“The fourth morning, you yelled at me because I tipped sixty dollars on a six-dollar bill.”
“You deserved that.”
“Probably.”
He came closer.
“By the fifth morning, I stopped pretending I was there because of Vincent.”
Avery’s heart began beating too quickly.
“Cameron…”
“You asked.”
“I know.”
“I can stop.”
She should tell him yes.
Instead, she whispered, “Finish.”
He looked almost angry with himself.
“I came back because those were the only thirty minutes of my day when nobody wanted anything from Cameron Moretti.”
Avery’s throat tightened.
“You didn’t know Cameron Moretti.”
“You were Dom.”
“Yes.”
“And what did Dom want?”
His eyes moved over her face.
“Another morning.”
The room became very quiet.
Avery felt suddenly exposed.
Not because of her body.
Because he was looking at the part of her she had spent years hiding.
Her hope.
She whispered, “My father said you had another reason to protect me.”
Cameron’s expression changed.
“That is not a conversation for today.”
“You just gave me a speech about honesty.”
“I’m aware of the hypocrisy.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you are angry, frightened, injured, and standing inside my house because someone may be hunting you.”
“So?”
“So if I tell you what Vincent meant, you may never know whether your answer is yours or a response to fear.”
“My answer to what?”
Before Cameron could reply, his security chief entered.
Marco Bellini.
Forty.
Broad shoulders.
Close-cropped hair.
A scar near his chin.
“Boss.”
Cameron turned.
Marco handed him a tablet.
Avery watched Cameron read.
His expression hardened.
“What happened?”
Cameron said nothing.
“Cameron.”
He turned the tablet toward her.
Security footage from Rosa’s Diner.
Recorded at 4:13 a.m.
A hooded figure entered through the rear door.
Walked directly to booth nine.
Placed something beneath the table.
Then left.
Cameron’s people had found the object.
A burner phone.
On it was one recording.
Avery pressed play.
Bradley Hayes’s voice filled the room.
“Cameron, if you’re hearing this, you found Vincent’s card.”
Avery gripped the table.
Bradley continued.
“You’re probably wondering who inside your family betrayed you.”
A pause.
“Meet me tonight, and I’ll tell you.”
Then he laughed.
“But don’t bring Avery Russo.”
The recording ended.
Avery looked at Cameron.
“Obviously I’m going.”
“No.”
“Obviously.”
“No.”
“You really think that word works on me?”
“This time it does.”
“Why?”
Marco answered instead.
“Because the meeting location is Pier Seventeen.”
Avery went still.
The exact place her father had been supposed to meet Cameron eight years earlier.
And suddenly Bradley Hayes was not simply running away.
May you like
He was reenacting the night Vincent Russo died.
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