Chapter 5 - The Betrayal Behind the Kitchen Door
Khloe stopped halfway down the stairs.
Daniel held the gun against Salvatore's head.
Marco shoved her forward.
"Keep moving."
"Daniel?"
Daniel's face showed nothing.
Salvatore looked at his daughter.
"Do what he says."
Khloe descended.
Her mind raced.
Daniel had helped them.
He had shown them messages.
He had risked his life.
Or appeared to.
"You work for Carlo."
Daniel's expression hardened.
"Put your hands where I can see them."
The basement smelled of wine, bleach, and old wood.
Marco closed the door.
"Carlo will be down soon."
Khloe looked at Salvatore.
"Did you know?"
"No."
Daniel almost looked offended.
"Nobody knew."
"Why?"
"Because Carlo has something I need."
"Money?"
Daniel laughed.
"My daughter."
Khloe's anger paused.
"What?"
"Her name is Sofia. She's eight."
Daniel swallowed.
"Carlo took her three days ago."
Salvatore spoke carefully.
"Daniel, we can help her."
"You can't."
"We can."
"Carlo sent me a photograph every six hours."
Daniel's hand trembled.
"She's alive as long as I cooperate."
Khloe understood.
Daniel wasn't betraying them for power.
He was a terrified father.
"Where is she?"
"I don't know."
"Then Carlo can kill her even if you do everything."
Daniel looked at Khloe.
"Don't."
"I'm not trying to hurt you."
"Don't talk about my daughter."
"Then think about her."
"I am."
"No. You're thinking about your fear."
Daniel's jaw tightened.
Khloe continued.
"If Carlo releases Sofia, what stops him from taking her again tomorrow?"
Silence.
"You know the answer."
Marco stepped forward.
"Enough."
Daniel turned the gun toward him.
"Back up."
Marco stopped.
Khloe saw uncertainty.
There was still a chance.
"Daniel," she whispered, "my father lost twenty years because he thought disappearing would protect me."
Salvatore looked at her.
Khloe continued.
"Ask him if fear made everything better."
Salvatore's eyes filled with regret.
"It didn't."
Daniel looked between them.
His phone vibrated.
A message.
He read it.
His face collapsed.
"What?"
Khloe asked.
Daniel turned the screen.
A photograph showed Sofia sitting in what appeared to be an office.
Behind her was a distinctive stained-glass window.
Khloe recognized it.
So did Marco.
The restaurant's upstairs private dining room.
"She's here," Khloe whispered.
Daniel stared upward.
Carlo had brought Sofia into the building.
Insurance.
Marco lunged.
Daniel fired.
The bullet hit a wine rack.
Bottles shattered.
Salvatore tackled Marco.
Khloe grabbed Daniel's wrist.
"Don't shoot!"
Marco struck Salvatore and ran toward the stairs.
Daniel started after him.
Khloe grabbed his jacket.
"Sofia."
He stopped.
"Upstairs private room. Second floor."
Daniel ran.
Salvatore picked himself up.
"You okay?"
"I'm twenty years older than I remember."
Khloe almost laughed despite everything.
They hurried upstairs.
The dining room was chaos.
Guests had fled.
Emergency lights cast red shadows across overturned chairs.
Vincent stood near Carlo's table.
Anthony beside him.
Carlo was gone.
"Khloe!"
Vincent crossed toward her.
"Daniel?"
"He's looking for his daughter."
Vincent frowned.
"His what?"
Khloe explained quickly.
Vincent cursed.
"Carlo planned everything."
A gunshot sounded upstairs.
Daniel shouted.
"Sofia!"
They ran.
The private dining room door was locked.
Daniel slammed against it.
"Sofia!"
A little girl's voice answered.
"Daddy!"
Daniel nearly broke.
"I'm here!"
Vincent examined the lock.
"Move."
Anthony struck it with a fire extinguisher.
Once.
Twice.
The door opened.
Sofia sat in a chair.
Unharmed.
Daniel rushed to her.
He dropped to his knees and pulled her against him.
"Daddy."
"I'm here."
Khloe looked away.
Salvatore didn't.
He watched father and daughter with an expression Khloe understood.
Regret.
Twenty years of it.
Daniel carried Sofia downstairs.
"Carlo?"
Vincent asked.
"Gone."
"Marco?"
"Gone too."
Anthony returned from the kitchen.
"Back exit."
Vincent looked at Salvatore.
"He wanted the ledger."
Salvatore checked his coat.
"It's here."
Khloe frowned.
"Then what did he accomplish?"
Vincent looked toward Daniel and Sofia.
"He exposed Daniel."
Daniel's face changed.
Carlo now knew exactly where Daniel's loyalty stood.
Salvatore's phone rang.
Elena.
He stared at the name.
Khloe realized her mother had not seen him yet.
"Answer."
Salvatore couldn't.
Twenty years hiding from killers had apparently been easier than pressing one green button.
Khloe took the phone.
"Mom?"
"Khloe, are you safe?"
"Yes."
"Vincent's men said something happened."
"We're okay."
Khloe looked at her father.
"Mom, someone needs to talk to you."
She handed him the phone.
Salvatore raised it slowly.
"Elena."
Silence.
Then Khloe heard her mother scream his name through the speaker.
Salvatore closed his eyes.
"I'm sorry."
Whatever Elena said next made tears run down his face.
Khloe stepped away.
Some reunions belonged partly in private.
Vincent joined her.
"You saved Daniel."
"He saved himself."
"You changed his mind."
"I reminded him what mattered."
Vincent nodded.
"I was wrong about him."
"You were going to kill him."
"Yes."
"You say that very casually."
"I don't know another way to say it."
Khloe looked at him.
"Try being different."
Vincent's expression tightened.
"Men like me don't become different because a waitress tells them to."
"No."
Khloe looked toward Salvatore.
"They become different because eventually they realize what their choices cost."
Vincent followed her gaze.
"You think your father is different from me?"
"I think he tried to be."
That answer stayed with him.
Daniel approached carrying Sofia.
"We have a problem."
"Only one?" Anthony muttered.
Daniel handed Vincent his phone.
Carlo had sent another message.
A photograph of Elena's apartment door.
Open.
Khloe's blood turned cold.
"Mom."
Salvatore dropped the phone he was holding.
They ran.
Vincent drove himself.
Khloe sat beside Salvatore.
Nobody spoke.
Elena's apartment was empty when they arrived.
No blood.
No signs of struggle.
Only the groceries still scattered from earlier.
An orange rested beneath the kitchen table.
Salvatore called Elena.
Her phone rang from the bedroom.
Khloe found it on the bed.
Beside it lay a photograph.
Carlo Vescari, twenty years younger.
Salvatore.
Vincent's father.
And Elena.
Khloe picked it up.
Her mother had never mentioned knowing Carlo.
On the back, a message had been written recently.
MIDNIGHT.
WAREHOUSE 17.
BRING THE LEDGER.
COME ALONE, SALVATORE.
Khloe looked at the clock.
10:48 p.m.
Salvatore took the photograph.
"No."
Khloe stared at him.
"What?"
"You're staying here."
"You cannot possibly still think—"
"Carlo wants me."
"He took Mom."
"And I'll get her back."
"How?"
"By giving him what he wants."
Vincent shook his head.
"He'll kill you both."
"Maybe."
Khloe stepped in front of her father.
"I just got you back."
Salvatore touched her cheek.
"Which is more than I thought I'd ever have."
"No."
"Little bird—"
"Don't call me that if you're planning to leave again."
His hand dropped.
Khloe took the ledger.
"We finish this together."
At 11:42, they reached the abandoned industrial district near the river.
Warehouse 17 stood behind rusted fencing.
The same place where everything had begun.
Vincent's men remained several blocks away.
Daniel had taken Sofia somewhere safe.
Anthony waited in the car.
Salvatore and Khloe approached the warehouse.
The door was open.
Inside, one bare bulb illuminated a chair.
Elena sat in it.
Her hands weren't tied.
Carlo stood behind her.
Marco stood beside him.
Khloe almost ran forward.
Elena shouted.
"Don't!"
Salvatore stopped.
Carlo smiled.
"Twenty years, old friend."
Salvatore held up the ledger.
"Let her go."
Carlo shook his head.
"First, tell your daughter the truth."
Khloe looked at her father.
"What truth?"
Carlo's smile widened.
"The reason Salvatore really disappeared."
Salvatore went pale.
Elena began crying.
"Don't listen to him."
Carlo stepped forward.
"Your father didn't stay away because he was afraid for you, Khloe."
He pointed at Salvatore.
"He stayed away because of what he did the night of the fire."
Khloe stared at her father.
May you like
Salvatore couldn't meet her eyes.
And suddenly Khloe knew Carlo was telling at least part of the truth.
