Chapter 3 - The Price of a Name
Nora felt the room tilt.
Matteo caught her before she fell.
“I’m fine.”
“You're not.”
“I said I'm fine.”
Her voice shook.
John's wheelchair rolled forward slightly as he pushed against one wheel.
His eyes were fixed on the phone.
Brody was still on-screen.
Alive.
Close.
Smiling.
Nora hated that smile.
It was the same smile he had worn when he convinced her to cosign a credit card.
The same smile he had worn when he promised the debts were temporary.
The same smile he had worn the morning he kissed her forehead and disappeared.
Matteo muted the phone.
“You aren't going downstairs.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No.”
“He knows something about my child.”
“He wants you frightened enough to make a mistake.”
“He succeeded.”
Matteo studied her.
Nora wiped her eyes.
“But I'm still going.”
John struck his wheelchair arm.
Nora turned.
He shook his head.
“You too?”
He nodded.
She crouched.
“John, I need to know.”
He reached toward her stomach.
His hand hovered rather than touching.
Nora took it and placed it gently against the curve.
Lily kicked.
John's eyes widened.
Then softened.
For one second, everything else disappeared.
He looked like a grandfather feeling a baby move.
Then his expression changed.
He pointed at Matteo.
“Go?”
Matteo asked.
John nodded.
Then pointed at Nora.
“Stay?”
Another nod.
Matteo almost smiled.
“He agrees with me.”
“Of course he does.”
Nora looked at John.
“Men.”
John's mouth twitched.
Matteo left with two guards.
Nora waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Then fifteen.
The silence became unbearable.
Finally footsteps approached.
The door opened.
Matteo returned.
Alone.
“Where's Brody?”
“Gone.”
“What?”
“There was another exit.”
“And Gable?”
“Also gone.”
Nora stared.
“You have armed security.”
“Which means someone on my security team helped them.”
John closed his eyes.
Matteo swore quietly.
Then his phone rang.
He listened.
His expression hardened.
“Lock the estate down.”
He ended the call.
Nora looked at him.
“What happened?”
“Someone opened the north gate remotely.”
“For them?”
“Yes.”
“Then they're gone.”
“For now.”
Matteo walked to the window.
Nora watched him.
The feared Moretti boss suddenly looked less like a dangerous man and more like a son realizing his own home had been compromised.
“How long were you away?” she asked.
“Twenty-six days.”
“And before that?”
“I was here four days.”
“You don't live here?”
“Not anymore.”
“Why?”
Matteo looked toward John.
“Because my father and I disagreed about what the Moretti name should become.”
John opened his eyes.
“You wanted out.”
“Not exactly.”
Matteo returned to the table.
“I wanted the family legitimate.”
“And he didn't?”
“He wanted us alive.”
Nora said nothing.
Matteo continued.
“My grandfather built the organization. My father expanded it. Then he spent twenty years trying to separate the businesses from the violence that created them.”
“That sounds like what you wanted.”
“It was.”
“So why did you fight?”
“Because I wanted it done immediately.”
John looked away.
Matteo's voice softened.
“He knew immediate change creates enemies.”
Nora understood.
“And then he had the stroke.”
“Yes.”
“And you took over.”
“Yes.”
“Did the enemies disappear?”
Matteo gave her a humorless smile.
“No.”
A guard entered carrying a laptop.
“We recovered something.”
He placed it before Matteo.
Security footage.
Five years earlier.
John walked through the east corridor.
Healthy.
Powerful.
Angry.
Evelyn Gable followed him.
Then another man entered the frame.
Nora leaned closer.
“Who is that?”
Matteo froze.
The man was younger than John but older than Matteo.
Dark hair.
Expensive suit.
A scar beside his left ear.
“My uncle.”
“Your father's brother?”
“Yes.”
“What's his name?”
“Victor.”
John's breathing changed.
Matteo noticed.
“Dad?”
The footage continued.
Victor handed John a folder.
They argued.
No audio.
John pointed toward the office.
Victor grabbed his arm.
Then the image cut out.
The next recording began twenty-three minutes later.
John lay on the floor.
Victor was gone.
Gable knelt beside him.
But she did not call for help.
She searched his pockets.
Nora covered her mouth.
Gable removed a key.
Then she finally reached for the phone.
Matteo stared at the screen.
For five years, everyone believed John's stroke had happened naturally.
Maybe it had.
But Gable had delayed calling an ambulance.
Seven minutes.
Nine.
Twelve.
The timestamp kept moving.
“Seventeen minutes,” Matteo whispered.
John closed his eyes.
Matteo stood.
Nora saw something frightening in him then.
Not rage.
Control.
Rage could be survived.
Control like that felt more dangerous.
“Find Victor.”
The guard hesitated.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“Victor Moretti died four years ago.”
Matteo looked at John.
John opened his eyes.
Then slowly shook his head.
“No,” Matteo whispered.
John blinked once.
Victor was alive.
The investigation moved quickly after that.
By midnight, three security employees had been detained for questioning.
Two denied involvement.
The third disappeared before the lockdown.
Nora was moved from her employee room to a guest suite near John's room.
She protested.
Matteo ignored her.
“You're under protection.”
“I didn't ask for protection.”
“Neither did my father.”
“That doesn't mean you can lock me up.”
“The door locks from inside.”
Nora folded her arms.
“You're infuriating.”
“So I've been told.”
“Frequently?”
“Daily.”
For the first time, she saw him smile.
It changed his face.
Then his eyes dropped toward her belly.
“When are you due?”
“March eighteenth.”
“Girl?”
“Yes.”
“Lily.”
Nora stared.
“How do you know that?”
Matteo's smile vanished.
He realized his mistake.
Nora stepped backward.
“I never told you her name.”
Matteo said nothing.
“Matteo.”
He walked toward the desk.
“Your background report.”
“No.”
“What?”
“The report said pregnancy. It didn't say Lily.”
He looked at her.
Nora's pulse accelerated.
“How do you know my daughter's name?”
John's wheelchair appeared in the open doorway.
Neither had heard him approach.
He held something in his lap.
A photograph.
Nora walked toward him.
“What is that?”
John handed it to her.
The photograph showed Nora at seventeen.
She stood outside a high school graduation ceremony beside her mother, who had died two years later.
Nora stared.
“Why do you have this?”
John pointed toward the back.
She turned it over.
A message was written in faded ink.
JOHN—
IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME, FIND NORA.
DON'T LET VICTOR KNOW WHO SHE IS.
—SARAH
Nora stopped breathing.
Sarah.
Her mother.
She looked at John.
“You knew my mother?”
He nodded.
Matteo took the photograph.
His face changed when he saw the handwriting.
“You recognize it?”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
Matteo walked to his father's desk.
He unlocked a drawer.
Inside was an old leather file.
He opened it.
Nora saw documents bearing the same handwriting.
“What are those?”
Matteo looked at her.
“Financial records.”
“Whose?”
“My father's.”
Nora's confusion deepened.
“Why would my mother have your father's financial records?”
John suddenly spoke.
One word.
Clearer than before.
“Accountant.”
Nora stared at him.
“My mother was a school secretary.”
John shook his head.
Matteo turned a page.
Then another.
“She worked for my father before that.”
Nora felt sick.
“No.”
“For six years.”
“My mother never said anything.”
“She was protecting you.”
“From what?”
John pointed toward the photograph.
Toward the warning.
Victor.
Nora sat down.
Her mother had died in what police called a highway accident.
A truck had crossed the center line.
The driver was never identified.
“What happened to her?”
Nobody answered.
Nora looked at Matteo.
“What happened to my mother?”
“I don't know.”
“Don't lie to me.”
“I don't.”
John suddenly wheeled himself toward the hidden passage.
He pointed.
Matteo followed him.
Inside the passage was a narrow shelf.
John reached toward it but couldn't reach high enough.
Matteo searched.
His fingers found an envelope taped beneath the shelf.
Nora's name was written across it.
Her mother's handwriting.
Nora tore it open.
Inside was a key.
And one sentence.
If you're reading this, John failed to keep the secret.
Nora's hands shook.
A number was engraved into the key.
Matteo looked at it.
“I know that number.”
“Where?”
“The old Moretti bank.”
Nora looked up.
“What bank?”
“It closed twelve years ago.”
“Then what does 317 open?”
Matteo's phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
He read it.
Then looked at Nora.
“What?”
He handed her the phone.
COME TO BOX 317.
BRING SARAH BENNETT'S DAUGHTER.
SHE DESERVES TO KNOW WHY HER MOTHER DIED.
Beneath the words was a photograph taken seconds earlier.
Nora standing beside Matteo.
Inside the supposedly secure room.
May you like
Someone was still watching them.
And the photograph had been taken from directly behind John.
