Chapter 6 - Someone Inside the Moretti House Was Lying
Rico had not spoken to his mother in four months.
That fact surprised Clara.
From the outside, the Moretti family looked like an impenetrable wall.
But the closer she got, the more cracks she saw.
“What happened between you?” Clara asked.
They were back inside Rico's sedan.
Leo was asleep at the penthouse.
Dante sat in front.
Rico watched traffic move past the tinted windows.
“After Elena died, my mother wanted Leo moved out of New York.”
“Why?”
“She said the city was dangerous.”
“Reasonable.”
“I agreed.”
Clara blinked.
“You did?”
“For three days.”
“What changed?”
“Leo stopped eating.”
Clara’s expression softened.
“He thought you were leaving him too.”
“Yes.”
Rico looked down.
“My mother blamed me.”
“For bringing him home?”
“For Elena.”
There it was again.
The guilt everyone seemed willing to hand Rico.
Clara folded her arms.
“Maybe she was wrong.”
Rico looked at her.
“You barely know me.”
“I know grief turns people into terrible judges.”
Dante glanced into the mirror.
Rico asked, “Why haven't you mentioned your father?”
Clara smiled without humor.
“Because I never had one to mention.”
“Samuel Vale.”
“A name on a document isn't a father.”
“Fair.”
“What about your mother?”
Rico looked back out the window.
“Sofia loved my father.”
“Did he love her?”
“Yes.”
“You sound certain.”
“I was there.”
Clara shook her head.
“You were a child.”
“So?”
“Children see love. They don't always see everything surrounding it.”
That stayed with him.
They reached Sofia Moretti’s coastal house shortly before evening.
Rico did not warn her.
Dante wanted security to enter first.
Rico refused.
“She’s my mother.”
Clara looked at him.
“And if Gabriel is right?”
Rico didn't answer.
Sofia answered the door herself.
She was sixty, elegant, silver threaded through dark hair.
Her eyes found Rico first.
Then Clara.
Her face changed.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
Clara felt it immediately.
“You know who I am.”
Sofia stepped backward.
“Come inside.”
Rico didn't move.
“Did you know Elena had a sister?”
“Yes.”
One word.
Rico's face hardened.
“How long?”
“Before you married her.”
Rico stared.
Clara whispered, “Oh my God.”
“You knew?”
Sofia looked exhausted.
“Elena told me.”
Rico entered.
Clara followed.
Dante remained near the door.
Rico's voice remained controlled.
“You let me marry a woman while hiding half her life from me.”
“I kept the secret she asked me to keep.”
“She was my wife.”
“She was terrified.”
“So was I, after she died.”
Sofia flinched.
Rico continued.
“For six months I believed I killed her.”
“I know.”
“You let me believe it.”
Tears filled Sofia's eyes.
“I was trying to keep Leo alive.”
Rico stepped back.
“What does Leo have to do with this?”
“Everything.”
Clara’s stomach tightened.
Sofia sat slowly.
“Your father discovered Vittorio's betrayal when you were a child.”
“We know.”
Sofia looked surprised.
“You found the house.”
“Yes.”
“Then you heard Evelyn’s tape.”
“Yes.”
Sofia nodded.
“Antonio wanted to expose Vittorio publicly.”
“Why didn't he?”
“Because Vittorio threatened you.”
Rico became still.
Sofia looked at her son.
“You were eight.”
Clara glanced at Rico.
Sofia continued.
“Antonio backed down.”
“Then Vittorio killed him anyway.”
Sofia's eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Rico turned away.
For years, Antonio’s death had been an accident.
Now every person Rico trusted seemed to have known otherwise.
“When did Elena find out?”
“Before Leo was born.”
“How?”
“Samuel’s records.”
Clara leaned forward.
“My father.”
Sofia nodded.
“Samuel worked for Vittorio.”
Clara felt sick.
“What did he do?”
“Accounting.”
Sofia looked at her.
“He found money moving through shell companies. Payments made before assassinations. Bribes. Information sold to competing families.”
“And he copied everything.”
“Yes.”
“Then they killed him.”
“Yes.”
Clara closed her eyes.
“Wonderful family history.”
Sofia looked ashamed.
“Samuel tried to go to Antonio.”
“That's how my father became involved,” Rico said.
“Yes.”
Rico turned back.
“Now tell me about Elena.”
Sofia took a breath.
“She found her half of Samuel’s records when Margaret Santoro died.”
Rico frowned.
“Elena told me Margaret died before we met.”
“That part was true.”
“She discovered Vittorio had arranged Samuel's death?”
“Yes.”
“And my father’s.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“Because she was pregnant.”
Rico went silent.
Sofia’s voice became softer.
“She wanted Leo born outside the war.”
“There was no war.”
“You're living in one now.”
Rico’s jaw tightened.
“Did Elena plan to leave me?”
“Yes.”
Clara watched the pain cross his face.
Sofia immediately added, “Not because she didn't love you.”
“That distinction is becoming tiresome.”
“She believed leaving would save you.”
“Everyone keeps deciding what saves me without asking me.”
Sofia lowered her eyes.
Rico paced once.
“Gabriel said Elena knew the route changed that night.”
Sofia’s face drained.
“Gabriel told you that?”
“Yes.”
Rico stepped closer.
“Only four people knew.”
Sofia understood.
“You think I betrayed her.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then explain.”
Sofia stood.
“I changed the route.”
Rico froze.
“What?”
“Elena called me that afternoon.”
“Why?”
“She said she believed someone was watching the usual route home.”
“So you redirected the car.”
“Yes.”
“Without telling me?”
“Elena asked me not to.”
Rico almost laughed from disbelief.
“And the new route was attacked.”
Sofia nodded.
“Meaning whoever targeted her had access to the change.”
“Yes.”
“Who did you tell?”
“Nobody.”
Rico stared.
Sofia hesitated.
“No.”
Rico noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Mother.”
She turned toward the fireplace.
“There was one person.”
Clara held her breath.
“Who?” Rico asked.
Sofia looked at Dante.
Rico followed her gaze.
The room changed.
Dante’s face went blank.
Sofia whispered, “I asked Dante to send the driver the updated directions.”
Silence.
Rico looked at the man who had stood beside him for fourteen years.
Dante raised both hands.
“Boss.”
Rico said nothing.
“I sent the route.”
“To whom?”
“Frank.”
“The driver?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
Sofia stared at him.
“You replied that Vittorio needed confirmation.”
Dante looked confused.
“I never wrote that.”
Sofia walked toward a desk.
She opened a drawer and removed an old phone.
“I kept Elena’s messages.”
She handed it to Rico.
Rico scrolled.
There it was.
A message apparently from Dante.
Route updated. Vittorio wants confirmation when they depart.
Rico looked up.
Dante shook his head.
“No.”
“That's your number.”
“I didn't send it.”
Rico’s voice became dangerously calm.
“Who had your phone?”
“Nobody.”
“Think.”
Dante stared at the screen.
Then his expression changed.
“That afternoon…”
“What?”
“I was at Il Destino.”
Clara’s eyes narrowed.
Dante continued.
“I left my phone in Marco’s office while meeting a supplier.”
“The restaurant manager?” Clara asked.
“Yes.”
Rico looked at her.
Marco.
The sweating man who had tried to stop Clara from approaching Leo.
The man who had worked at Il Destino for eleven years.
The man who knew every Moretti schedule because Rico held meetings in his private dining room.
Rico grabbed his phone.
“Bring Marco in.”
Nobody answered.
Dante called another number.
Then another.
His face darkened.
“He's gone.”
“Find him.”
“We're trying.”
Sofia whispered, “Rico.”
He turned.
“There’s something else.”
“Of course there is.”
“Elena saw Marco the morning she died.”
Clara felt goosebumps.
“Why?”
“I never knew.”
Rico stared at his mother.
“You waited six months to tell me.”
“I didn't know it mattered.”
“Everything matters!”
Leo was not present, but Rico instinctively lowered his voice anyway.
Sofia flinched.
Clara stepped between them slightly.
“Why would Elena meet Marco?”
Nobody knew.
Dante’s phone buzzed.
He checked it.
Then stared at the screen.
“We found his car.”
“Where?”
“Near the river.”
“And Marco?”
“Gone.”
Rico cursed.
Another message arrived.
Dante’s expression became stranger.
“What?”
“They found something inside.”
“What?”
“A photograph.”
He handed Rico the phone.
Clara moved closer.
The image showed a photograph lying on Marco’s passenger seat.
It was Elena.
And Marco.
Standing together fifteen years earlier.
Far too young for Marco merely to have been her restaurant manager.
On the back were three handwritten words:
My brother Marco.
Clara stared.
“Elena had a brother too?”
Sofia whispered, “No.”
But Rico looked at the photograph differently.
Because he recognized the building behind them.
It was the same upstate safe house.
The place where his father had helped separate Elena and Clara.
And standing in the far background of the photograph was one more person.
A young Vittorio Moretti.
His arm around Marco’s shoulder.
Rico enlarged the image.
Underneath it, someone had recently added a message in red ink.
May you like
Ask Marco which sister was supposed to die.
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