Chapter 5 - MY MOTHER’S SECOND DEATHWORD NUMBER - 5
Thomas ran.
He made it three steps.
Marco slammed him against the wall.
“Don’t!”
Thomas struggled.
“You don’t understand!”
I held up my phone.
“Then explain.”
His face changed when he saw the message.
“Clara contacted you.”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you help them find her?”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
The answer cut through me.
Luca said nothing.
He knew this confession belonged to me.
Thomas stopped fighting.
Marco kept him pinned anyway.
“Twelve years ago,” Thomas began, “I believed Victor was trying to protect both families.”
“Your cousin.”
“Yes.”
“He told me Clara had stolen sensitive records.”
“The ledger.”
“Yes.”
“He said she was selling them.”
“To whom?”
“A federal investigator.”
“Was she?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I found out too late.”
My mother had asked Thomas to hide her.
Instead, Thomas secretly gave Victor the address.
Bellini followed.
So did another vehicle.
Clara left before they entered the safe apartment.
On a rural road, another car struck hers.
“That was the accident.”
“Yes.”
“You were there?”
Thomas looked sick.
“I followed.”
“Why?”
“To stop them once I realized Victor lied.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“The other driver?”
“Silvio’s man.”
Luca’s expression changed.
“Name.”
“Frank Rizzo.”
Luca knew it.
I could tell.
“Rizzo died nine years ago,” he said.
Thomas nodded.
“He believed he had killed Clara.”
“But she survived.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She crawled out before the car burned.”
My chest tightened.
“Why didn’t she come home?”
“Because she heard Rizzo tell someone on the phone that if her body wasn’t found, they would go after you next.”
I felt physically cold.
“So she disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“And you helped?”
“After.”
I laughed bitterly.
“How generous.”
“I spent twelve years trying to make up for what I did.”
“You can’t.”
“I know.”
The words were quiet.
I hated that I believed his remorse.
Not enough to forgive him.
But enough to hear it.
My phone rang.
This time, a secure call.
Unknown video source.
Luca nodded.
“Answer.”
The screen opened.
My mother stared back at me.
For several seconds neither of us spoke.
Twelve years vanished.
Then returned all at once.
She looked older.
Of course she did.
So did I.
Her hair was shorter.
Gray at the temples.
A pale scar crossed her jaw.
But her eyes were the same.
“Emma.”
My knees weakened.
I sat.
“You’re alive.”
She began crying.
“Yes.”
I could not.
Not yet.
“How dare you.”
She closed her eyes.
“I know.”
“No.”
My voice shook.
“You do not get to say you know.”
“I know.”
“Twelve birthdays.”
“I know.”
“My graduation.”
“I watched from across the street.”
That broke something.
“What?”
“I was there.”
“You watched me?”
“I couldn’t come near you.”
“You chose not to.”
“Yes.”
I stood again.
“Where are you?”
She looked past the camera.
“I can’t tell you.”
“Vanessa.”
My mother’s expression changed.
“She’s alive.”
“You took her?”
“No.”
“Do you know who did?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Bellini.”
Luca stepped into view.
Clara looked at him.
“Antonio’s son.”
“You warned Emma.”
“Yes.”
“Why not me?”
“Because I didn’t know who around you was compromised.”
“Do you now?”
“No.”
That was not comforting.
Luca asked, “Bellini is poisoning me?”
“Yes.”
“With what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how?”
“Medication rotation.”
Dr. Bellini occasionally changed Luca’s supplements and prescriptions after migraines and an old shoulder injury.
The toxic compound was introduced gradually.
The copied spoons were not delivery devices.
They were signals.
My mother had planted them herself.
I stared at her.
“You entered the townhouse?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
She hesitated.
“Someone helping me.”
“Who?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Mom.”
The word came out accidentally.
Her face broke.
It was the first time I had called her that since she appeared.
“Emma…”
“Who?”
“If I tell you and I’m wrong, someone dies.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead I said, “Vanessa is already missing.”
Clara nodded.
“I know.”
“Why did Bellini take her?”
“Because Vanessa discovered her father’s files.”
Victor.
“Is Victor involved?”
“Yes.”
“Did he order it?”
“No.”
“What is the horrifying secret everyone keeps protecting?”
Clara looked toward Luca.
“Your father didn’t die when you think he did.”
Luca became still.
“What?”
“Antonio survived his poisoning.”
Silence.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“I identified his body.”
“You identified a body after a fire.”
Luca stared.
His father had suffered a major cardiac event twelve years earlier.
According to Luca, Antonio recovered for months before dying in a private estate fire two years later.
Clara continued.
“The fire was staged.”
“By whom?”
“Silvio and Victor.”
Luca’s face emptied.
“My uncle.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Antonio had spent two years collecting evidence against them.”
“And where was he?”
“Hidden.”
“By you?”
“Partly.”
Luca stared at her.
“My father was alive after his funeral?”
“For seventeen months.”
“Where?”
“A monastery outside Wisconsin.”
Luca laughed once.
Disbelief.
Pain.
Rage.
“You expect me to believe my father allowed me to bury him?”
“He believed you were being watched.”
“I was his son.”
“Yes.”
“And he let me think he was dead.”
Clara looked toward me.
The same accusation I had thrown at her.
The same justification.
Protection.
It sounded less noble from the child’s side.
“What happened to Antonio?” Luca asked.
Clara’s face darkened.
“Silvio found him.”
No one spoke.
“This time, he made sure there was a body.”
Luca turned away.
His hand closed into a fist.
I knew enough now to understand the tremor was not poison this time.
It was anger.
“Proof.”
Clara nodded.
“I have it.”
“Where?”
“With me.”
“Then bring it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because Bellini has Vanessa and wants the ledger.”
“What does Vanessa have to do with Antonio?”
“She has something her father kept.”
“Which is?”
Clara looked directly at Luca.
“A recording of Antonio’s final interrogation.”
Luca’s face went white.
“He was tortured?”
Clara did not answer.
She didn’t need to.
Victor Vale had recorded the interrogation because he wanted insurance against Silvio.
Vanessa found the file while going through her father’s private safe.
Bellini learned she had it.
“He took her for the recording.”
“Yes.”
“And the demand for your ledger?”
“He wants both.”
“Why now?”
Clara inhaled.
“Because Victor Vale is dying.”
Another surprise.
“Cancer,” she said.
“Very few people know.”
Victor had begun arranging succession.
Vanessa would inherit controlling interests.
Her marriage to Luca would merge two legitimate financial networks and make old hidden accounts much easier to trace.
Silvio could not allow it.
Bellini wanted to eliminate everyone who could expose what happened twelve years ago.
Luca.
Vanessa.
Clara.
Victor.
Possibly me.
“Where is Vanessa?” Luca asked.
Clara looked to the side.
“I think Bellini is holding her in one of Victor’s abandoned clinics.”
“Which?”
“I’m narrowing it.”
My phone buzzed with another incoming message.
Not from Clara.
A location pin.
South Chicago.
Beneath it:
COME FOR THE BRIDE.
NO POLICE.
BRING EMMA REED.
Luca looked at the screen.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“You’re not deciding.”
“Absolutely not.”
“My mother’s ledger is what he wants.”
“You don’t have it.”
“He may not know that.”
“That makes you more useful alive.”
“Exactly.”
Luca stared.
I continued.
“If Bellini wants me, we can use that.”
Marco interrupted.
“It’s a trap.”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“So was dinner.”
Clara’s voice came through the phone.
“Emma, listen to Luca.”
I turned toward my mother.
“Twelve years ago, you made decisions for me.”
Her face crumpled.
“You don’t get to do it again.”
Silence.
Then Luca said quietly:
“She’s right.”
I looked at him.
He didn’t look happy.
“But we don’t walk into Bellini’s trap.”
“What do we do?”
Luca’s eyes hardened.
May you like
“We build a better one.”
And for the first time that night, I understood why men were afraid of him.
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