Chapter 4 - The House of Ghosts
“My father is dead,” Leo said.
Daniel looked at the message.
“So was I.”
Nobody spoke.
That answer followed them all the way back to Manhattan.
They escaped the print shop through adjoining rooftops and an old maintenance staircase. Sofia knew the neighborhood well enough to get them into a delivery van parked three blocks away.
Leo drove.
Elena sat beside Daniel in the back.
She kept one hand around her brother’s wrist as if he might disappear again if she let go.
He noticed.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You already did.”
He had no answer.
Sofia sat opposite them.
Her gun rested across her knees.
Leo looked at her through the mirror.
“Explain Gabriel.”
“My father vanished six years ago.”
“Vanished?”
“He told everyone you killed him.”
“I didn’t.”
“I know that now.”
Leo looked ahead.
“Who did?”
Sofia’s expression hardened.
“Nobody.”
“He’s alive too.”
“Yes.”
Elena leaned back.
“This is becoming ridiculous.”
Daniel almost smiled.
“Welcome to my life.”
She glared.
He stopped smiling.
Leo’s father, Salvatore Castellano, had died four years earlier from a heart attack in a private hospital.
Leo had seen his body.
He had attended the funeral.
There had been no closed casket.
So the message could not be literal.
Unless “father” meant something else.
Leo remembered the old Castellano estate in Westchester.
After Salvatore’s death, Leo had closed it.
No one lived there.
The staff had been dismissed.
The house remained untouched because Leo could never decide whether to sell it or burn it.
Now someone wanted him there.
Marco was being held.
There was no choice.
“You’re not going alone,” Elena said.
Leo looked at her through the mirror.
“The message specifically requires that.”
“Messages can be wrong.”
“You’re staying somewhere safe.”
“There is nowhere safe.”
She was right.
He disliked that too.
At dawn, they arrived at a private apartment Sofia had used previously.
Leo spent an hour making calls.
Marco had vanished outside the Upper East Side townhouse.
His driver had been found unconscious.
No witnesses.
No useful traffic footage.
Someone had known exactly where Marco would be.
That meant the enemy had information from inside Leo’s organization.
Daniel sat at the kitchen table.
“You have a leak.”
“I know.”
“How high?”
Leo looked at him.
“High enough.”
Elena placed coffee in front of both men.
Leo glanced at her hands again.
The cracked skin looked worse in morning light.
“What?”
She caught him staring.
“Your hands.”
“They’re still attached.”
“You need treatment.”
“I need my brother not to disappear again.”
Daniel winced.
Leo understood.
Elena sat.
“Tell me everything.”
Daniel looked toward Leo.
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
“What if you hate what you hear?”
“I already spent three years believing you were dead. Try me.”
Daniel exhaled.
Twelve years earlier, he had worked nights as a dock clerk while studying accounting during the day.
He saw numbers differently.
Patterns.
Invoices.
Shipping records.
He noticed containers entering Pier Nine that officially did not exist.
At first he assumed smuggling.
Then he discovered the cargo was information.
Files.
Witness lists.
Police informants.
Addresses.
Families.
People who had testified or planned to testify against several organized-crime networks.
Someone was selling them.
Daniel copied a ledger.
Two days later, his apartment was searched.
A week later, someone followed Elena home from school.
Daniel stopped digging.
But the file never stopped following him.
Years later, Gabriel Vieri contacted him.
Gabriel had worked directly for Salvatore Castellano and claimed Salvatore was not the mastermind.
Someone else was using Salvatore’s network.
Someone close enough to manipulate records and orders.
“Who?” Leo asked.
Daniel looked at him.
“Your uncle.”
Leo went still.
“Vittorio?”
Daniel nodded.
Vittorio Castellano.
Salvatore’s younger brother.
Leo’s godfather.
The man who had taught Leo to drive.
The man who had stood beside him at both parents’ funerals.
Vittorio had retired to Sicily two years ago.
Or claimed to.
“No,” Leo said.
Daniel slid the drive across the table.
“See for yourself.”
Leo opened the files.
Payments.
Dates.
Names.
Copies of handwritten instructions.
Several carried Vittorio’s initials.
One carried Salvatore’s.
Leo stared at it.
Daniel pointed.
“That order had Daniel Moretti listed for termination.”
Elena’s face tightened.
Below Daniel’s name was another.
Gabriel Vieri.
And below Gabriel—
Marco Bellini.
Leo leaned closer.
“What?”
Sofia moved around the table.
“Marco discovered something later.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
Leo’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Marco spoke.
“Leo.”
“Where are you?”
A pause.
“Don’t come.”
Leo stood.
“Marco.”
“It’s Vittorio.”
The line crackled.
Someone struck Marco.
He groaned.
Then another voice came through.
Warm.
Older.
Familiar.
“Leonardo.”
Leo closed his eyes.
Uncle Vittorio.
“You should have stayed away from dead men.”
Leo’s voice lowered.
“You touch Marco again—”
“You’ll do what? Kill family?”
“Yes.”
Vittorio laughed.
“There’s the boy I raised.”
“You didn’t raise me.”
“I raised the part that survived.”
Leo looked toward Elena.
Her eyes stayed on him.
“What do you want?”
“The drive.”
“For Marco?”
“For the truth.”
“You already know the truth.”
“No, Leonardo. You know Daniel’s version.”
Daniel stood.
Vittorio continued.
“Come to your father’s house tonight. Nine o’clock.”
“Marco walks out first.”
“You are not negotiating.”
“I always negotiate.”
A pause.
Then Vittorio said softly, “Bring Elena.”
Leo’s hand tightened around the phone.
“No.”
Elena stood.
Vittorio heard the silence.
“Ah. So she matters.”
“She has nothing to do with this.”
“She is the reason this began.”
Elena’s face changed.
Leo did not.
“What does that mean?”
“Ask Daniel.”
The line disconnected.
Everyone looked at Daniel.
Elena whispered, “Why did he say that?”
Daniel’s face had gone pale.
“Daniel.”
He stood.
“I need air.”
Elena blocked him.
“No.”
“Ellie.”
“No more disappearing. No more protecting me with lies.”
Daniel looked toward Leo.
Then Sofia.
Finally he sat again.
“The ledger wasn’t the only thing I found.”
“What else?”
“A birth certificate.”
Elena frowned.
“Whose?”
Daniel looked at her.
“Yours.”
She laughed nervously.
“I have my birth certificate.”
“No. You have a replacement issued when you were three.”
Her smile disappeared.
“What are you saying?”
“Our mother wasn’t your biological mother.”
Elena stepped backward.
“No.”
“She raised you. She loved you. Nothing changes that.”
“Who was my mother?”
Daniel swallowed.
“Her name was Isabella Russo.”
Leo knew the name.
He felt the room tilt.
Elena saw it.
“You know her.”
Leo said nothing.
“Who was she?”
His voice came out quieter than he intended.
“My father’s accountant.”
Daniel continued.
“She discovered the first witness ledger.”
Elena stared.
“What happened to her?”
Daniel’s face broke.
“She disappeared when you were a baby.”
“Disappeared?”
“She was murdered.”
Elena closed her eyes.
Leo suddenly understood Vittorio’s interest.
If Isabella had copied records before her death, she might have hidden them.
Possibly with her child.
Possibly somewhere connected to Elena.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Elena whispered.
“I wanted you to have one normal thing.”
“My entire life was built on a lie.”
“On love,” Daniel said.
She slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
Daniel accepted it.
Elena immediately began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
“I deserved that too.”
She covered her face.
Leo wanted to touch her.
He did not.
Not yet.
Later that afternoon, Elena found him alone near the window.
“You knew Isabella.”
“I knew of her.”
“What did your father say about her?”
“Almost nothing.”
“Did he kill her?”
Leo looked at her.
“I don’t know.”
“That answer keeps appearing.”
“I won’t lie to make you feel better.”
She appreciated that against her will.
“What happens tonight?”
“I get Marco back.”
“And Vittorio?”
“I learn what he wants.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“Were you listening when he specifically asked for me?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And that is why you’re not coming.”
“He’ll know.”
“He can know.”
She stepped closer.
“You don’t get to decide whether I face the truth about my mother.”
Leo looked down at her.
“No. But I do get to decide whether I willingly deliver you to a man who murdered people to keep that truth buried.”
Their faces were inches apart.
Elena’s voice softened.
“You really think you can protect everyone.”
“No.”
“Then why do you keep trying?”
Leo looked at her mouth.
Then her eyes.
“Because I know what happens when I don’t.”
For one second, neither moved.
Then Elena stepped back.
At eight forty-five, Leo left for the estate alone.
Or believed he did.
Elena waited three minutes.
Then she joined Daniel and Sofia in another car.
The Castellano estate stood dark behind iron gates.
Leo entered through the front.
The house smelled exactly as he remembered.
Wood polish.
Old books.
His father’s cigars, impossibly preserved in memory.
A light burned in the library.
Leo pushed open the door.
Marco sat tied to a chair.
Alive.
Across from him stood Vittorio Castellano.
Older.
Silver-haired.
Smiling.
“Leonardo.”
Leo raised his gun.
“Release him.”
Vittorio sighed.
“So impatient.”
A second door opened.
Elena stepped inside.
Leo turned sharply.
“What are you doing here?”
“Making my own decisions.”
Vittorio smiled wider.
“Isabella’s daughter.”
Elena faced him.
“You knew my mother.”
“I loved your mother.”
Silence.
Daniel entered behind her.
Sofia followed.
Vittorio looked delighted.
“The whole family.”
Leo cut Marco’s ropes.
“Talk.”
Vittorio walked toward the fireplace.
“You think Isabella discovered my operation.”
“She did,” Daniel said.
“No.”
Vittorio turned.
“She created it.”
Elena’s face went white.
“That’s a lie.”
“Of course you want it to be.”
Vittorio removed an old photograph from his jacket.
He placed it on the table.
Isabella stood beside Salvatore Castellano.
Between them was an infant.
Elena.
On the back, something was written.
Leo picked it up.
Three words.
FOR OUR DAUGHTER.
Leo stared at his father’s handwriting.
Elena saw his expression.
“No.”
Vittorio smiled.
“Now you understand.”
Leo looked at Elena.
If the photograph was real—
She was Salvatore Castellano’s daughter.
Leo’s sister.
Elena staggered backward.
But Vittorio began laughing.
“You should see your faces.”
Leo looked again.
Something was wrong.
The ink.
Too fresh.
He rubbed his thumb across it.
The writing smeared.
Vittorio stopped laughing.
Leo slowly raised his eyes.
“This was written recently.”
A gun cocked behind them.
Marco whispered, “Leo.”
Everyone turned.
Sofia was holding the weapon.
Not at Vittorio.
At Daniel.
May you like
And she said:
“I’m sorry, Daniel. My father wants his daughter back.”
