Chapter 5 - The Lie Beneath the Altar
Father Gabriel had buried Marin's mother.
At least the woman Marin had always called her mother.
He had stood beside Patricia Holloway's grave six years earlier and told Marin grief was proof that love had existed.
Now he stood behind a kidnapped man.
Marin felt physically sick.
“I trusted him.”
Dante studied the photograph.
“So did my family.”
“Who is he?”
“My father's oldest friend.”
Of course.
Every road led backward.
They went to the church.
Not alone.
Dante wasn't stupid.
Luca positioned men outside.
Elena waited two blocks away.
Marin wore a wire.
The church doors were unlocked.
Dante pushed one open.
Candles burned near the altar.
Raymond sat in the first pew.
Untied.
Marin stopped.
“This is a trap.”
Raymond turned.
Older than she remembered.
Tired.
But unmistakably alive.
“Hello, Mari.”
Nobody had called her that since Patricia died.
Marin's throat tightened.
“You let me think you were dead.”
“I had to.”
“You keep saying people had to do terrible things to me.”
Raymond lowered his eyes.
“That's fair.”
“Where is Gabriel?”
“Gone.”
Dante approached.
“Why send the photograph?”
“I didn't.”
Silence.
Raymond looked at Marin.
“Gabriel wanted you here.”
A door closed behind them.
Luca's voice came through Dante's earpiece.
“Boss, movement outside.”
Then the lights died.
Marin heard footsteps.
Dante grabbed her hand.
“Down.”
Glass shattered.
A gunshot.
Then another.
Marin crouched behind a pew.
Dante shielded her.
Emergency lights flickered on.
Raymond had disappeared.
“Where did he go?”
Dante pointed.
A hidden door stood open beside the confessional.
They followed.
Stone stairs descended beneath the church.
At the bottom was an archive room.
Boxes.
Ledgers.
Photographs.
Decades of secrets.
Marin saw her name on a folder.
She grabbed it.
Inside were photographs of her entire childhood.
First day of school.
High school graduation.
Her first job.
Patricia's funeral.
Someone had watched her for years.
Dante found another folder.
His name.
Inside were reports about him.
Every business meeting.
Every relationship.
Every injury.
Every enemy.
“This wasn't Raymond,” Dante said.
“How do you know?”
“He couldn't have gathered all this alone.”
A voice came from behind them.
“He didn't.”
Father Gabriel stood in the doorway.
No gun.
No visible weapon.
Just a tired old man in black.
Dante stepped forward.
“Where's Raymond?”
“Safe.”
“That's becoming a very unpopular word.”
Gabriel looked at Marin.
“You look like Evelyn.”
“So everyone keeps telling me.”
“She was brave too.”
“Did you kill her?”
“No.”
“Did Dante's family?”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
“Not intentionally.”
Marin's stomach tightened.
“Explain.”
“Evelyn discovered August Romano was laundering money through charities controlled by both families. She threatened to expose him.”
Dante said, “My father was involved?”
“At first.”
Dante's face hardened.
Gabriel continued.
“Your father tried to withdraw. August wouldn't allow it.”
“And Evelyn?”
“She became leverage.”
Marin whispered, “The car accident.”
“Was meant to frighten her.”
“But it killed her.”
“Yes.”
“Who ordered it?”
Gabriel looked toward Dante.
“Your father.”
Dante staggered backward.
“No.”
“He didn't order her death. He ordered the car disabled so she couldn't leave the city that night.”
“That's not better.”
“No.”
Marin watched Dante's world collapse.
The father he had spent his life trying to honor had caused the death of the woman who raised him.
Even accidentally, it was unbearable.
Gabriel continued.
“After Evelyn died, your father discovered August had arranged the sabotage to be far more dangerous than requested.”
Dante's voice was barely audible.
“What did he do?”
“He spent the rest of his life collecting evidence against August.”
Marin looked around.
“The archives.”
“Yes.”
“Why hide them?”
“Because exposing August would have exposed everyone.”
Dante laughed bitterly.
“So they protected themselves.”
“At first.”
“And later?”
“They protected Marin.”
Marin stared.
Gabriel pointed toward her folder.
“August believed Evelyn's baby died shortly after birth. Raymond and Patricia made sure he believed it.”
“Why?”
“Because Evelyn's trust contained more than money.”
“What?”
“Voting control.”
Dante understood first.
“The Romano Foundation.”
Gabriel nodded.
“And Moretti Development.”
Marin stared.
“Why would Evelyn control both?”
“Because August put assets in her name while hiding them from investigators. He believed she would always obey him.”
“But she didn't.”
“No.”
“And when she died?”
“The controlling shares passed to her daughter.”
Marin.
A maid had unknowingly controlled portions of two empires.
Gabriel looked at her.
“If your existence became legally verified, August would lose everything he built.”
“Then why bring me into Dante's mansion?”
Gabriel's eyes moved toward the floor.
“I didn't.”
“Raymond did?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Gabriel looked afraid for the first time.
“Patricia.”
Marin's breath caught.
“My mother is dead.”
Gabriel said nothing.
“No.”
He reached into his pocket.
Dante moved instantly.
“Slowly.”
Gabriel removed a key.
A storage locker number was engraved on it.
“Patricia knew the truth would eventually surface.”
“She died of cancer.”
“Yes.”
“She couldn't have arranged my employment six years later.”
“No.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Gabriel looked directly at her.
“Patricia didn't arrange it before she died.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Marin whispered, “You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
He handed her the key.
“Open the locker.”
“What's inside?”
“The proof.”
Dante took the key.
Gabriel stepped aside.
Police sirens sounded above.
Elena had arrived.
But Marin barely heard them.
One thought consumed her.
Patricia.
Her mother.
The woman whose hand she had held in a hospital room.
The woman Marin had watched stop breathing.
There was no possible way.
Unless the body—
No.
She couldn't think it.
They reached the storage facility twenty minutes later.
Locker 317.
Marin inserted the key.
Her hand shook.
Dante stood beside her.
“You don't have to do this tonight.”
“Yes, I do.”
She turned it.
The lock opened.
The metal door rose.
Inside was a single chair.
A lamp.
And a fresh cup of coffee.
Steam still rose from it.
Marin stepped inside.
On the chair rested the wooden jewelry box.
The one Celeste had returned.
Except that box was still at the mansion.
This was another one.
Identical.
Marin opened it.
Inside was a handwritten note.
She knew the handwriting.
She had seen it on birthday cards for twenty years.
Mari,
If you're reading this, they finally found you.
Marin's knees weakened.
At the bottom were five more words.
I am sorry I left.
Behind her, someone whispered:
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Marin turned.
A woman stood in the doorway.
Older.
Thinner.
May you like
Alive.
“Mom?”
