Chapter 14 - The Rose Garden
Carmine stepped from behind the roses with a gun against my mother’s side.
Gabriel’s face became stone.
“Let her go.”
Carmine smiled.
“You always did give orders like your father.”
I raised my hands.
“Mom.”
“I’m okay,” she whispered.
She was lying.
Carmine looked exhausted.
His expensive suit was dirty.
His silver hair had fallen across his forehead.
For the first time, he did not look powerful.
He looked cornered.
That made him terrifying.
“You lost,” Gabriel said.
“No.”
“The trust is protected.”
“I don’t care about the trust.”
“Then why are you here?”
Carmine looked at the roses.
“Your father planted these.”
Gabriel glanced around.
“He told everyone they were for Maria.”
Carmine laughed bitterly.
“They were for your grandmother. She loved white roses. Daniel remembered. I didn’t.”
I realized what this was.
Not a negotiation.
A reckoning.
Carmine had spent his entire life measuring himself against his brother.
Even after Daniel died, he kept fighting him through Gabriel.
“You killed him because he was loved,” I said.
Carmine looked at me.
“Quiet.”
“That’s what this was.”
“Hannah.”
Gabriel’s warning came softly.
But I continued.
“You wanted the company. The money. The house. But none of it made you Daniel.”
Carmine raised the gun toward me.
Mom moved.
The gun fired.
Gabriel shouted.
I fell.
For one horrifying second, I thought I had been shot.
Then I realized Mom had shoved Carmine’s arm.
The bullet struck stone.
Gabriel drove his wheelchair forward.
He hit Carmine hard.
The gun fell among the roses.
I kicked it away.
Vincent and federal agents came through the hedges.
Carmine grabbed Gabriel.
They fell together.
Gabriel hit the ground.
Carmine reached for the gun.
So did I.
My fingers closed around it first.
Carmine froze.
I pointed it at him.
He smiled.
“Go ahead.”
My hands shook.
He wanted it.
One last tragedy.
One final way to destroy Gabriel.
I lowered the weapon.
“No.”
Vincent tackled Carmine.
Agents handcuffed him.
Carmine screamed Gabriel’s name as they dragged him away.
Gabriel lay among crushed white roses.
I dropped beside him.
“Are you hurt?”
“My pride.”
“Already terminal.”
He laughed.
Then he pulled me against him.
My mother was crying.
Mia came running from the house.
Maria followed.
Vincent stood nearby, breathing hard.
Carmine was placed in a vehicle.
For the first time, Gabriel watched his uncle leave without fear.
But the story was not finished.
Not yet.
Two weeks later, prosecutors charged Carmine with a long list of crimes.
Locke agreed to testify.
Financial records recovered nearly sixty million dollars.
More assets were frozen overseas.
Marissa entered protective custody temporarily.
The forged deed was voided.
Gabriel regained uncontested control of his property.
Mia received legal recognition as the second beneficiary.
And then came Gabriel’s final medical evaluation.
I waited outside the rehabilitation room.
His specialist had reviewed new imaging.
Gabriel had been experiencing tiny changes for weeks.
Sensations.
Muscle responses.
Movements so small he had not told anyone.
Because hope frightened him more than pain.
The specialist came out.
“Hannah?”
I stood.
“What happened?”
“He wants you inside.”
I entered.
Gabriel sat between parallel bars.
His hands gripped them.
A therapist stood behind him.
“What are you doing?”
Gabriel looked terrified.
Not mafia-boss terrified.
Human terrified.
“They think I may have more function than we believed.”
My throat tightened.
“How much?”
“Nobody knows.”
The therapist nodded.
Gabriel pushed.
His arms trembled.
His shoulders tightened.
For a moment nothing happened.
Then one leg responded.
Barely.
But it responded.
Gabriel inhaled sharply.
I covered my mouth.
“Again,” he said.
He tried.
His body shook.
Then his knee moved.
An inch.
Maybe less.
Gabriel looked at me.
His eyes filled.
I walked toward him.
He shook his head.
“No.”
I stopped.
He wanted to do it himself.
He pushed again.
And slowly, painfully, Gabriel began lifting his body from the chair.
His arms trembled violently.
The therapist stayed close.
I did not breathe.
Gabriel rose several inches.
Then more.
For the first time since the bullet, he was partially upright.
His eyes locked on mine.
“Hannah.”
“I’m here.”
He smiled through tears.
Then suddenly the rehabilitation-room door opened behind me.
Maria stood there holding an envelope.
Her face was pale.
“Gabriel,” she said. “They found one final letter from your father.”
Gabriel lowered himself back into the chair.
Maria held out the envelope.
On the front were four words.
FOR AFTER CARMINE IS GONE.
May you like
Gabriel reached for it.
The seal was already broken...
