Chapter 5 - The Debt My Father Left Behind
The man looked about sixty.
Gray hair.
Work jacket.
No weapon.
Police immediately moved toward him.
"Hands where we can see them."
He raised both hands.
"I work here."
Rosie frowned.
"No, you don't."
He looked at me.
"Claire, my name is Thomas Reed."
"I don't know you."
"But I knew your father."
The room seemed to tilt.
Alessandro stepped closer.
"How did you get into the kitchen?"
"Back door."
"Police cleared it."
Thomas looked toward the officers.
"Then they missed one."
Nobody liked that answer.
Especially Alessandro.
He positioned himself beside me.
Not in front.
Beside.
A small difference.
But I noticed.
"Show me the photograph," I said.
Thomas handed it to an officer, who examined it before passing it over.
The picture showed a younger man beside Marco Vitali.
I recognized Marco immediately.
The other man had my eyes.
My nose.
My smile.
My hands started shaking.
"David?"
Thomas nodded.
"My father?"
"Yes."
I stared at the photograph.
"He knew Marco."
"They were friends once."
Alessandro looked stunned.
"That's impossible."
Thomas gave him a tired smile.
"You were a child."
"What happened?"
Thomas looked at me.
"Your father was Marco Vitali's accountant."
I laughed because the alternative was crying.
"My father worked for the mafia?"
"He worked for Marco's shipping company."
"Same difference."
"No. David believed he could keep the legitimate side clean."
"Did he?"
"For a while."
Thomas sat after police allowed it.
He explained that twenty-six years earlier, Marco had been trying to separate parts of the Vitali organization from Carlo D'Amato's network.
David discovered money moving through shell companies.
Not drugs.
Weapons.
Carlo was using shared shipping routes without Marco's permission.
David copied records.
He planned to go to federal authorities.
"What happened?"
Thomas looked at Alessandro.
"Marco found out first."
I stopped breathing.
"Did Marco kill him?"
"No."
The answer came quickly.
"Then who?"
"Carlo D'Amato."
Alessandro swore quietly.
Thomas continued.
"Marco tried to get David and your mother out of Chicago. It failed. David was killed three weeks before you were born."
My eyes filled.
"Why did my mother tell me he died in an accident?"
"Because Marco asked her to."
"Why?"
"To keep you alive."
I looked at Alessandro.
The irony was so cruel I almost laughed.
My mother had hidden me from the Vitalis.
Twenty-five years later, I was carrying a Vitali child.
Thomas reached into his pocket.
Police stopped him.
"Paper," he said.
They removed a folded note.
It was addressed to me.
Claire.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
Thomas said, "Your father wrote that the night before he died."
My hands trembled opening it.
My daughter,
If you ever read this, it means the past found you despite everything I tried to prevent.
I couldn't continue.
Tears blurred the words.
Alessandro stood beside me silently.
I forced myself to read.
Your mother will protect you. Marco promised me he would too, but never trust a promise when powerful men are frightened.
The records I found can destroy more than one family.
If Carlo learns you exist, he may believe you know where they are.
You don't.
And I hope you never do.
I looked up.
"Records?"
Thomas nodded.
"Missing financial evidence."
"Where is it?"
"No one knows."
"Then why target me?"
"Because Carlo never believed David died without passing them to someone."
Alessandro's face darkened.
"And now Claire is pregnant with my child."
Thomas nodded.
"Which makes her useful in two different wars."
I pressed a hand to my stomach.
I hated the word useful.
Alessandro heard it too.
"She's not a bargaining chip."
"Tell Carlo."
We returned to the townhouse before dawn.
I didn't sleep.
I sat at the kitchen table reading my father's letter repeatedly.
Alessandro made calls.
Quiet ones.
By seven, he had arranged for Rosie to repair the diner, Jenna to receive temporary paid leave, and police to receive security footage through his lawyers.
I watched him.
"Do you solve everything with money?"
"No."
"Most things?"
"Money is faster than apologies."
"That's a terrible philosophy."
"I didn't say it was good."
I almost smiled.
Then the weight returned.
"My mother knew."
"Probably."
"She's been dead six years."
"I'm sorry."
"I spent six years believing I had no one left."
Alessandro sat across from me.
"You have me."
I looked at him.
"Do I?"
He didn't flinch.
"If you want me."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know."
He reached into his jacket and removed a key.
"What's that?"
"This house."
"I don't want your house."
"I'm not giving it to you."
He slid the key across the table.
"I'm giving you a way out."
I stared.
"If you ever feel unsafe with me, this key opens the rear gate and garage. There is a car inside registered to one of my legitimate companies. Cash in the glove box. No tracker."
I looked at him.
"You're giving me an escape route from you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you asked me not to build a cage."
Something in my chest broke open.
I picked up the key.
"Thank you."
He nodded.
Then he said, "There's something else."
I stiffened.
"Francesca?"
"Yes."
I nearly groaned.
"Of course."
"She and I were never engaged."
"But?"
"Our fathers expected it."
"Did she?"
"Probably."
"Did you love her?"
"No."
"Did you sleep with her?"
His silence answered.
"When?"
"Years ago."
"How many?"
"Five."
"Recently?"
"No."
"Does she still want you?"
"I don't know."
"That's a lie."
He exhaled.
"Yes."
"Wonderful."
"Claire."
"I'm pregnant, sleep deprived, someone broke into my apartment, my dead father worked for your father, and now I have a mafia almost-fiancée."
"She's not—"
"Don't."
He stopped.
Then, incredibly, I started laughing.
Alessandro stared.
I laughed until tears ran down my face.
"This is insane."
He slowly smiled.
"A little."
"A little?"
"Fine. Completely."
He came around the table.
"Can I kiss you?"
I looked up.
"You're asking?"
"I'm learning."
I kissed him first.
For ten seconds, the world stopped.
No D'Amatos.
No old agreements.
No dead fathers.
Just us.
Then the front security alarm chimed.
Alessandro pulled away.
His expression changed.
"Someone's at the gate."
He checked the camera.
A black sedan waited outside.
A woman stepped out.
Elegant.
Dark red coat.
Black hair.
"Who is that?" I asked.
Alessandro didn't answer.
I already knew.
Francesca D'Amato walked toward the gate carrying a white gift bag.
She looked directly into the security camera.
Then she lifted her phone.
Mine rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
"Claire?" she said pleasantly.
"Yes."
"I'm Francesca."
"I figured."
She smiled at the camera.
"I brought something for the baby."
My blood went cold.
"How do you know?"
Her smile widened.
"Because I knew you were pregnant before Alessandro did."
I looked at him.
He went still.
Francesca continued.
"And Claire?"
"What?"
"Before you trust the father of your child, ask him where he was the night your father died."
The call ended.
Alessandro's face had turned white.
I slowly lowered my phone.
"You were there?"
He didn't answer.
Outside, the gate began opening.
No one had pressed the button.
May you like
Francesca stepped inside.
And she wasn't alone.
