Chapter 11 - The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
The phone kept ringing.
Nobody touched it.
Its screen glowed in the darkness.
MICHAEL ROSSI.
I stared at the name until my eyes hurt.
Dominic stood beside me, frozen.
Maria had gone completely still.
Even Victor looked afraid.
Then the phone stopped.
Silence.
A second later, it rang again.
Dominic reached for it.
Maria grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t.”
He looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because if he’s calling, he wants you to answer.”
“Exactly.”
Dominic pulled his hand free.
He picked up the phone.
“Michael.”
A man's voice answered.
Older.
Calm.
Familiar.
“Hello, son.”
Dominic's face lost all color.
I heard the voice through the speaker.
I had never met Michael Rossi.
But somehow, I knew that voice.
Not from memory.
From my mother's recordings.
From old conversations.
From the nightmares I had never understood.
Dominic swallowed.
“You're dead.”
A quiet laugh.
“That is what I needed everyone to believe.”
Maria stepped backward.
Michael continued.
“Where is Clara?”
Dominic said nothing.
“Put her on.”
“No.”
“Then listen carefully.”
The voice became colder.
“Your wife is standing in a room full of evidence that can destroy her.”
Dominic looked at me.
I whispered:
“How does he know?”
Michael answered as if he had heard me.
“Because I've been watching her for twenty-eight years.”
My blood froze.
Dominic gripped the phone harder.
“If you touch her—”
“I already did.”
Silence.
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
My breath stopped.
The alley.
The rain.
The blood.
Dominic's voice became dangerously quiet.
“You arranged the attack.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you found the ledger.”
“I found the names.”
“Exactly.”
Michael paused.
“And then Evelyn made her move.”
Dominic stared at the wall.
“She sent Clara to save me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she knew you would trust the woman who saved your life.”
I felt sick.
“So the rescue was planned.”
Michael laughed softly.
“Nothing about your life was accidental.”
I stepped forward.
Dominic looked at me.
I held out my hand.
He gave me the phone.
“Michael.”
Silence.
Then:
“Clara.”
My name sounded wrong in his mouth.
“You know who I am.”
“I know everything about you.”
“Who is my father?”
A pause.
Then Michael said:
“Vincent Moretti.”
I closed my eyes.
“I already know that.”
“Do you?”
“What don't I know?”
“You were not born because Vincent loved Evelyn.”
I opened my eyes.
“Then why?”
“Because Evelyn needed protection.”
“From whom?”
“Me.”
My stomach turned.
“You were afraid of my mother?”
“No.”
Michael's voice became strangely soft.
“I was afraid of what she knew.”
“What did she know?”
“That I wasn't the man you thought I was.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“Then who are you?”
Michael laughed.
“That is a question you should have asked twenty-eight years ago.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“I was thirteen.”
“And you were already smarter than your father wanted.”
“You're my father.”
“No.”
Dominic froze.
“What?”
Michael continued.
“I raised you.”
My heart stopped.
“But I am not your biological father.”
Dominic stared at the phone.
“You just said—”
“I said your mother had a child.”
“You told me I was yours.”
“I told you what you needed to believe.”
Maria covered her mouth.
I looked at her.
She was crying.
“Who is Dominic's father?” I asked.
Michael answered:
“Vincent Moretti.”
The room went silent.
Dominic looked at me.
I looked at him.
Half-brother.
Same mother.
Same biological father.
The three children.
The impossible family.
Michael continued.
“Vincent had three children with Evelyn.”
Dominic's voice cracked.
“Why did you take me?”
“Because Vincent died.”
“When?”
“Before you were born.”
Dominic stared.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
Michael's voice became colder.
“Vincent was murdered.”
“By whom?”
“His own people.”
“Why?”
“Because he tried to leave.”
Dominic looked at Maria.
She was still crying.
“Then why did you raise me?”
“Because Evelyn begged me.”
Dominic's face changed.
“My mother asked you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she knew someone would come for all three children.”
Michael paused.
“I could protect one.”
“Why not all three?”
“Because I wasn't powerful enough.”
Dominic laughed bitterly.
“You ran Chicago.”
“I controlled Chicago.”
“Then you were powerful enough.”
“No.”
Michael's voice hardened.
“I was powerful enough to make people afraid.”
He paused.
“Not powerful enough to make them stop.”
The phone crackled.
Then Michael said:
“Clara, do you know why your mother sent you to Jackson Boulevard?”
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“She sent you because she knew Dominic was dying.”
“She knew?”
“Yes.”
“From whom?”
“Me.”
Dominic stepped forward.
“You told her?”
“I gave her the location.”
My heart stopped.
Michael continued.
“I wanted to see whether she would choose her daughter over a dying enemy.”
I whispered:
“She sent me anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Evelyn knew something I didn't.”
“What?”
“She knew Dominic would never hurt you.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
I looked at him.
Michael's voice continued.
“And she was right.”
The phone suddenly crackled.
Static.
Then another voice appeared.
A woman's voice.
Isabella.
“Michael.”
Everyone froze.
Michael went silent.
Maria stepped toward the phone.
“Isabella?”
A soft laugh.
“Hello, Mother.”
Maria's face collapsed.
I stared at the speaker.
“You're alive.”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“Closer than you think.”
Dominic grabbed the phone.
“Isabella.”
“Dominic.”
“I thought you were dead.”
“I know.”
“Why did you let me believe it?”
“Because you believed the wrong people.”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
Dominic's face hardened.
“My father isn't Michael.”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“Vincent.”
Silence.
Isabella continued.
“He was killed before you were born.”
Dominic looked at Maria.
“Who killed him?”
Isabella hesitated.
Then:
“Evelyn.”
I felt the world stop.
“No.”
Maria shook her head violently.
“That's not true.”
Isabella answered:
“It is.”
Dominic stared at the phone.
“Why?”
“Because Vincent was going to take all three children.”
“That's not murder.”
“No.”
Isabella's voice became quieter.
“Evelyn didn't kill him.”
“Then who did?”
“She ordered someone else to.”
I felt sick.
“Who?”
Isabella didn't answer.
Michael interrupted.
“Enough.”
The call went dead.
Dominic stared at the phone.
Maria collapsed into a chair.
Victor looked at her.
“You knew.”
Maria whispered:
“I knew Vincent was going to die.”
“You didn't stop it.”
“I couldn't.”
Dominic turned toward her.
“Who killed my father?”
Maria looked at him.
“Your mother.”
He stared.
“But Isabella said Evelyn ordered it.”
“She did.”
“Why?”
“Because Vincent was going to take you.”
Dominic's eyes filled with anger.
“He was my father.”
“And he was going to take you away from her.”
“He had that right.”
“He was dangerous.”
“So was she.”
Maria nodded.
“Yes.”
That answer silenced him.
I stepped closer.
“What happened to Isabella?”
Maria looked at me.
“I raised her.”
“Why?”
“Because Evelyn couldn't raise both of you.”
“Why not?”
“Because Michael was watching.”
“And you protected Isabella.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did she disappear?”
Maria's face changed.
“She left me.”
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
My heart raced.
“Seven years?”
Maria nodded.
“She went looking for you.”
I froze.
“She knew about me?”
“She always knew.”
“Then why didn't she find me?”
“She did.”
My breath caught.
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
Dominic stared at Maria.
“The photograph.”
Maria nodded.
“Isabella took it.”
I remembered the photograph from the alley.
A young woman in the shadows.
A camera.
Rain.
Someone watching.
“She was there.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't she come to me?”
Maria's eyes filled with tears.
“Because she saw Dominic.”
I looked at him.
“What did she see?”
Maria whispered:
“She saw the way he looked at you.”
My heart pounded.
“She knew he would protect you.”
“Then why did she stay away?”
“Because someone else was watching.”
“Who?”
Maria didn't answer.
Victor did.
“The Rossi council.”
Dominic turned.
“The council is dead.”
“No.”
Victor shook his head.
“Most of them are.”
“Who remains?”
Victor looked at the basement door.
“Three people.”
“Names.”
“Robert Kane.”
Dominic's expression hardened.
“Impossible.”
“Anna Bell.”
Maria looked terrified.
“And the third?”
Victor hesitated.
“Michael Rossi.”
The phone rang again.
This time, the caller ID was different.
PRIVATE NUMBER.
Dominic answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a recording played.
My mother's voice.
“Dominic, if you're hearing this, the council has found Clara.”
My blood went cold.
The recording continued.
“Do not trust Victor.”
Victor's face changed.
“Evelyn knew.”
My mother's voice continued:
“Do not trust Maria.”
Maria covered her mouth.
“Mom…”
“And whatever happens, do not let Clara see the third photograph.”
I looked at Victor.
“What third photograph?”
He said nothing.
Dominic looked at him.
“Victor.”
Victor slowly reached inside his coat.
He pulled out a photograph.
Old.
Folded.
He handed it to me.
I opened it.
My mother stood outside St. Catherine's.
She was holding two newborn babies.
Beside her stood Michael Rossi.
And behind them stood a third person.
A young man.
I knew him.
My hands began shaking.
Dominic looked over my shoulder.
His face went completely white.
“That’s impossible.”
I stared at the photograph.
The young man was Vincent Moretti.
Alive.
Standing beside my mother.
May you like
And written across the bottom in my mother's handwriting were five words:
He was never dead. He raised you.
