Chapter 5 - The Father Who Never Died
Adrian opened the door.
The older man standing outside looked like him.
Same gray eyes.
Same controlled posture.
But Salvatore Moretti carried twenty additional years of secrets across his face.
“Hello, son.”
Adrian did not move.
“You died.”
“No.”
“I buried you.”
“You buried an empty coffin.”
Elena almost laughed at the terrible familiarity of the sentence.
Apparently everyone in this story had attended fraudulent funerals.
Adrian didn’t laugh.
“Why?”
“To keep you alive.”
Salvatore entered.
Victor arrived twenty minutes later.
The brothers faced each other without embracing.
“You coward,” Victor said.
“I know.”
“You left me to hold everything together.”
“I know.”
“You left him.”
Salvatore looked at Adrian.
“I know.”
Adrian’s voice was cold.
“Stop saying that.”
Salvatore nodded.
He explained.
Richard Vale had survived longer than anyone realized.
The theft had never been only about money.
Richard had been collecting evidence on every Moretti operation, planning to sell it to rival organizations and federal investigators depending on which offered more.
Rose discovered him.
Salvatore helped Rose disappear.
But someone betrayed them.
“Who killed Rose?” Elena asked.
Salvatore’s face tightened.
“Richard.”
“Did you see it?”
“No.”
“Then you don’t know.”
“No.”
The admission mattered.
“What do you know?”
“I know Mason was there.”
Elena’s skin chilled.
Salvatore removed a flash drive.
Security footage.
A warehouse.
Rose entered.
Richard followed.
Then Mason.
But the footage ended.
“Where’s the rest?”
“Missing.”
Elena looked at Adrian.
“Mason knows.”
They needed him alive.
The police needed him too.
The search intensified.
Meanwhile, Elena reopened Golden Hearth using temporary ovens.
Customers flooded in after local news reported the vandalism.
She refused interviews.
She baked.
For three days, she felt almost normal.
Adrian visited every morning.
He bought one coffee.
One pastry.
Never six hundred croissants.
On the fourth morning, Elena placed an almond cake slice in front of him.
“Free.”
“I thought you hated charity.”
“This is flirting.”
Adrian looked at the cake.
“I’m unfamiliar with the procedure.”
“That explains a lot.”
He smiled.
Then he kissed her.
Slowly.
No dramatic music.
No audience.
Just flour on Elena’s cheek and coffee cooling between them.
When they separated, Adrian whispered, “I wanted to do that at dinner.”
“Before or after threatening my ex with your terrifying chair ownership?”
“I didn’t threaten him.”
“You existed aggressively.”
“That happens.”
She laughed.
Then police called.
Mason had been found.
He was hiding in a motel outside Providence.
Elena insisted on being present when detectives questioned him.
Mason looked smaller behind glass.
When he saw her, shame crossed his face.
Not arrogance.
Shame.
“I loved you,” he said.
Elena almost walked away.
“Don’t.”
“I did.”
“You married me because of Rose.”
“At first, I got close because my father told me to.”
The words hurt despite everything.
“But then—”
“Don’t turn betrayal into romance.”
Mason lowered his head.
“You’re right.”
“Who killed Rose?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“My father wanted the ledger. Rose refused. Salvatore was supposed to meet her, but he was late.”
“Then?”
“A fourth person arrived.”
“Who?”
Mason’s eyes moved toward the observation glass.
“I want protection.”
“From whom?”
“Someone the Morettis trust.”
Elena’s stomach tightened.
“Victor?”
“No.”
“Adrian?”
Mason laughed bitterly.
“Adrian doesn’t even know.”
“Know what?”
“Why his father disappeared.”
Mason leaned closer.
“Salvatore wasn’t hiding from my father.”
“Then who?”
Before he answered, alarms sounded.
Officers rushed through the corridor.
Mason stood.
“What’s happening?”
Smoke appeared under the interrogation-room door.
A fire.
Elena was evacuated.
Adrian arrived outside minutes later.
“Mason?”
“Still inside.”
Firefighters entered.
Twenty minutes later, they emerged.
The interrogation room was empty.
Mason had escaped through a maintenance corridor.
Or someone had taken him.
A detective approached Elena carrying an evidence bag.
“This was left where Vale was sitting.”
Inside was a folded photograph.
Victor Moretti stood beside Richard Vale.
The date was two weeks before Rose’s murder.
On the back was an address.
Elena recognized it.
Golden Hearth.
Underneath were four words.
VICTOR KNOWS WHO DID IT.
That night, Elena and Adrian entered the bakery together.
Victor was already there.
Sitting in the empty chair across from her grandmother’s old desk.
May you like
A gun rested in front of him.
And behind him stood Mason.
