Chapter 10 - THE UNCLE I NEVER KNEW
Victor refused to let me speak to Mateo.
So naturally, I took the phone from his hand.
“Elise.”
“Stop ordering me around.”
“Elise—”
I put the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then the man Chicago newspapers called a monster exhaled as though hearing my voice had knocked the air from him.
“Marisol’s girl.”
My throat tightened.
“You knew my mother?”
“She was my sister.”
“Why did she never tell me about you?”
“Because she was smarter than all of us.”
Victor stood close enough to take the phone back if he chose.
He didn’t.
“What do you want?”
“To see you.”
“No.”
A low laugh.
“You sound exactly like her.”
“I don’t care.”
“You will.”
“Did you arrange the attack?”
“No.”
“Did you photograph me?”
“No.”
“Did you buy my cleaning agency?”
“No.”
Victor gestured impatiently.
I ignored him.
“Then why did somebody use my brother’s identity to buy it?”
Mateo went quiet.
“I did not know about that.”
“Convenient.”
“Ask Victor about convenience.”
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“Don’t play games,” I said.
Mateo’s voice softened.
“You are standing in the home of the family responsible for your mother spending half her life in hiding.”
I looked at Victor.
His expression revealed nothing.
“What does that mean?”
“It means Marisol did not leave Chicago because she wanted a fresh start.”
“Why did she leave?”
“Because Victor’s father ordered her killed.”
Victor grabbed the phone.
“That’s enough.”
Mateo laughed.
“Afraid of family history, Romano?”
Victor’s voice went cold.
“My father died sixteen years ago.”
“Not soon enough.”
“You threaten my son and then ask me to believe you?”
“I never threatened Leo.”
“Your woman did.”
“Isabella does not work for me.”
Everyone froze.
Victor looked toward Dominic.
“What?”
Mateo continued.
“She left me twenty-three years ago.”
“You expect me to believe Sofia’s sister was with you?”
“She was.”
“Where is she now?”
“If I knew, I would already have her.”
Victor’s expression darkened.
“Why?”
“Because Isabella took something from me.”
“What?”
“A ledger.”
Dominic stepped closer.
Mateo continued.
“Your father’s ledger.”
Victor said nothing.
Mateo’s voice sharpened.
“It contains every payment Anthony Romano made during the final ten years of his life.”
“To whom?”
“Judges. Police. Politicians. Rival crews.”
A pause.
“And one doctor.”
My skin prickled.
Victor’s gaze moved to Leo.
“The maternity ward,” I whispered.
Mateo heard.
“Yes.”
Victor’s grip tightened.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“About Leo?”
“Not until Sofia contacted me.”
Victor stared into the distance.
“Sofia contacted you?”
“Eight days before she died.”
That hurt him.
I could see it.
“She thought Leo had been switched at birth.”
“Yes.”
“And you helped her?”
“I tried.”
“Why?”
Mateo was silent for a moment.
“Because whatever you think of me, Romano, I do not murder children.”
Victor’s face remained cold.
“Somebody does.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“So are you.”
Victor nearly ended the call.
I stopped him.
“My mother.”
He looked at me.
I took the phone again.
“Tell me why Anthony Romano wanted her dead.”
Mateo sighed.
“Your mother saw something.”
“What?”
“Our families met at a warehouse near the river when she was nineteen.”
I pictured my mother.
Young.
Laughing in old photographs.
Not the frightened woman she became later.
“There was supposed to be a peace agreement,” Mateo continued.
“But Anthony Romano killed three men during the meeting.”
Victor’s expression tightened.
“One survived.”
“Who?”
“Me.”
I closed my eyes.
“Marisol pulled me out through a loading entrance.”
“She saved you.”
“Yes.”
“And Victor’s father wanted witnesses gone.”
“Yes.”
My voice shook.
“So Mom ran.”
“I gave her money. Documents. A car.”
“Why didn’t you go with her?”
“I wanted revenge.”
The simple admission carried decades of regret.
“She begged me to leave.”
“But you stayed.”
“Yes.”
“And she never forgave you.”
“No.”
I understood my mother suddenly.
Why she refused to watch crime reports.
Why she panicked when strangers knocked after dark.
Why she made Caleb and me memorize emergency phone numbers before we learned multiplication.
She had not been overly cautious.
She had been hunted.
“What happened to the ledger?”
“Isabella found it years later.”
“And Sofia?”
“Knew about it.”
Victor stepped closer.
“Why didn’t Sofia tell me?”
Mateo’s answer was brutal.
“Because she did not know whether you were your father.”
Victor absorbed the blow without moving.
I hated Mateo for saying it.
But Victor only asked, “Did she trust you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“She trusted Elise.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Because you saved Leo once without knowing his name.”
Again that moment.
One action four years ago had somehow echoed through all of this.
Mateo lowered his voice.
“Your mother believed blood meant nothing compared to what people chose to do.”
I swallowed.
“That sounds like her.”
“I need to see you.”
“No.”
“I have something she left.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“A recording.”
Victor shook his head immediately.
I stared at him.
“You have a recording of my mother?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Six months before she died.”
My eyes burned.
Mom had died suddenly from an aneurysm.
I had not heard her voice in years except for one old birthday video.
“What does she say?”
“I won’t tell you over the phone.”
“Then send it.”
“No.”
Victor took the phone.
“She isn’t meeting you.”
Mateo laughed.
“She isn’t your property.”
Victor’s eyes shifted toward me.
“No.”
The answer surprised both of us.
“She isn’t.”
Mateo went silent.
Victor continued.
“But if you want a meeting, it happens on neutral ground.”
“Where?”
“A church.”
Dominic stared at him.
I did too.
Mateo chuckled.
“You think God will protect you?”
“No.”
Victor looked directly at me.
“But Elise might.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
The meeting took place the next afternoon.
St. Catherine’s Church.
Empty except for us, Mateo and two elderly priests who probably wished they had chosen different careers.
Victor insisted on twelve guards outside.
Mateo brought twelve of his own.
Inside, only four people entered.
Victor.
Me.
Mateo.
Dominic.
The moment I saw Mateo, I recognized my mother in him.
Same eyes.
Same way of tilting his head when assessing someone.
He looked at me for a long time.
Then said, “You have her face.”
I hated how deeply that affected me.
“You have the recording?”
He handed me an old digital device.
I pressed play.
Static.
Then my mother’s voice.
“Elise, Caleb… if you ever hear this, it means the life I ran from finally found you.”
I stopped breathing.
Victor stood beside me.
My mother continued.
“I need you to understand something. I did not hide my family because I was ashamed of where I came from. I hid because there are people in Chicago who believe children inherit debts.”
My eyes filled.
“You inherit nothing from me except my love.”
I wiped my face.
Then her voice changed.
More urgent.
“If Victor Romano ever comes into your life, do not judge him by his father.”
Victor went still.
“Anthony was cruel. Victor was a boy.”
I looked at him.
“There was one person Anthony feared more than any enemy.”
A pause.
“His eldest son.”
Victor frowned.
“Adrian?”
My mother continued.
“But Adrian Romano is not Anthony’s biological son.”
Nobody moved.
“His real father is Mateo Salazar.”
I turned toward Mateo.
His face was gray.
Victor stepped back.
“No.”
Mateo whispered, “I didn’t know.”
The recording continued.
“And if Adrian ever learns who he truly is, both families may burn.”
The church doors slammed open.
A gunshot cracked through the nave.
Victor shoved me behind a stone column.
Dominic drew his weapon.
Mateo’s men shouted outside.
Then a bleeding guard stumbled through the doorway.
“Boss!”
Victor grabbed him.
“What?”
May you like
The guard gasped.
“Adrian took Leo.”
