Chapter 7 - THE CHURCH THAT HELD TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS OF SECRETS
We reached St. Gabriel before sunrise.
The church had been abandoned for fifteen years.
Broken windows.
Stone walls blackened by weather.
A rusted cross leaning above the entrance.
Dante insisted on bringing twenty men.
Carlo brought four.
Marco complained the entire way that putting Morettis and Rinaldis in the same vehicles was how wars started.
He wasn't wrong.
I stood outside the church holding my mother's brass key.
Dante came beside me.
“You can still leave.”
I looked at him.
“Leave and go where?”
He had no answer.
“My apartment is destroyed. My ex-boyfriend sold me. My uncle is a dying crime boss. Your uncle apparently murdered both my parents.”
I looked toward the church.
“I think I've passed the exit ramp.”
Dante almost smiled.
Inside, dust covered everything.
Old wooden pews.
Faded saints.
Broken candles.
The key didn't fit the front doors.
Or the priest's office.
Or the storage room.
Then Carlo pointed toward the confessional.
“Michael used to come here.”
“Why?”
“He was Catholic when convenient.”
We opened the confessional.
Nothing.
I sat where the priest would have sat.
A small brass plate caught my attention.
A keyhole.
My key fit.
The entire wooden panel released.
Behind it was a steel compartment.
Inside—
A ledger.
Not a computer.
Not a drive.
A thick black book.
Carlo whispered, “My God.”
Dante reached for it.
I pulled it away.
“Mine.”
His eyes met mine.
Then he nodded.
“Yours.”
I opened it.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Judges.
Senators.
Police commissioners.
Corporate executives.
Then the Moretti family.
The Rinaldis.
Every transaction handwritten.
Michael had documented everything.
At the back was an envelope.
For Elizabeth.
My mother had opened it years ago.
Inside remained one note.
If Cara ever reads this, I'm sorry.
My eyes blurred immediately.
I sat on the floor.
For the first time in my life, I read words written by my father.
I wanted to leave before you were born.
I wanted a small house.
A loud kitchen.
Sunday mornings.
I wanted to teach you how to ride a bicycle.
Your mother laughed because I had already decided you'd be stubborn.
She said any daughter of hers would be worse.
A laugh escaped through my tears.
Dante looked away, giving me privacy.
My father continued.
If this book still exists, then men with power are probably still hurting people to protect themselves.
Do not become one of us because our blood is yours.
Blood is an accident.
Character is a choice.
That sentence broke me.
I pressed the note against my chest.
For twenty-seven years, I'd believed he didn't want me.
He had wanted bicycle rides.
Sunday mornings.
A loud kitchen.
Things he never got.
Carlo sat beside me.
“He loved you before he met you.”
I wiped my face.
“Did you?”
Carlo's expression crumbled.
“I was angry with him.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you protect us?”
“Because I was a coward.”
At least he didn't lie.
Dante flipped through the ledger.
His expression grew darker.
“Marco.”
“What?”
“Look at 2008.”
Marco did.
Payments from Salvatore to cardiologist Dr. Warren Chase.
Two weeks before Antonio Moretti died of a heart attack.
Dante stopped breathing.
“No.”
Carlo looked over.
“Your father didn't die naturally.”
Dante stared at the page.
His face became something I recognized.
The same way I must have looked when he told me about my mother.
Suddenly revenge had become personal for both of us.
“He killed my father too.”
Marco's jaw tightened.
“It looks that way.”
Another sound came from the church entrance.
Clapping.
Slow.
Mocking.
Salvatore Moretti stepped inside.
He was seventy-two.
White hair.
Perfect suit.
A dozen armed men behind him.
“Michael always did enjoy paperwork.”
Dante raised his gun.
So did everyone else.
Salvatore smiled.
“Careful.”
He lifted one hand.
A man dragged Vanessa into the church.
Gun against her head.
Dante froze.
I turned.
Vanessa had been behind us minutes earlier.
Now blood ran from her temple.
Salvatore smiled.
“Family reunions are exhausting.”
“Let her go,” Dante said.
“Give me the ledger.”
“No.”
The gun pressed harder against Vanessa's skull.
Dante's face remained cold, but his hand tightened.
Salvatore noticed.
“Oh, Dante.”
He smiled.
“You still love her.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
Dante said nothing.
Salvatore looked at me.
“And you.”
“Michael's daughter.”
“Cara.”
“I know your name.”
“You knew my mother too.”
“Unfortunately.”
I hated him instantly.
“Did you kill her?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
The honesty was worse than denial.
“Why?”
“She wouldn't stop digging.”
“Did you kill my father?”
“Yes.”
Carlo raised his weapon.
Salvatore laughed.
“Put it down, brother-in-law.”
“Michael was your ally.”
“Michael was weak.”
Carlo's hands shook.
“He was my brother.”
“And now you have cancer.”
Salvatore smiled.
“Life is terribly unfair.”
Dante stepped closer.
“You killed my father.”
“Yes.”
Something passed through Salvatore's face.
“Antonio discovered too much.”
“You poisoned him.”
“Slowly.”
Marco looked ready to shoot.
Salvatore pointed toward Vanessa.
“One bullet from any of you, she dies.”
Then he looked at me.
“The ledger.”
I held it tighter.
“No.”
Vanessa suddenly said, “Don't.”
Dante looked at her.
Salvatore sighed.
“Oh, Vanessa.”
He slapped her.
Dante moved.
The gun pressed back against her head.
“Another step.”
Dante stopped.
Salvatore held out his hand.
“Cara.”
I looked at my father's note.
Blood is an accident.
Character is a choice.
Then I looked at Salvatore.
“You've spent twenty-seven years trying to find this.”
“Yes.”
“You destroyed families for it.”
“Yes.”
“You murdered my parents.”
“Yes.”
“So you should know something.”
“What?”
I smiled.
“The book is useless.”
For the first time, Salvatore's expression changed.
“What?”
I pulled out my phone.
“I photographed every page before we left the room.”
Dante looked at me.
I hadn't.
But Salvatore didn't know that.
“I uploaded them.”
His face became dangerous.
“Where?”
“Cloud storage.”
A lie.
“To who?”
“Several journalists.”
Another lie.
Salvatore's men began murmuring.
“If I don't log in every six hours, the files release automatically.”
Marco stared at me with admiration.
Vanessa understood immediately.
She started laughing.
Salvatore struck her again.
“She's lying.”
“Maybe.”
I held up the ledger.
“Shoot Vanessa and find out.”
His hand tightened.
“Give me the phone.”
“No.”
“I'll kill her.”
“Then you lose everything.”
Silence.
My pulse hammered.
I was improvising against a man who had murdered half my family.
I couldn't let him see fear.
Salvatore finally smiled.
“You are Michael's daughter.”
Then a gunshot rang out.
Not from Salvatore's men.
From the balcony above.
The man holding Vanessa collapsed.
Marco had positioned a sniper.
Vanessa dropped.
Chaos exploded.
Dante fired.
Carlo's men rushed forward.
I threw myself behind the altar.
Bullets shredded wood.
Glass rained down.
Dante reached Vanessa.
Marco covered them.
Salvatore ran toward a side corridor.
I saw him.
And followed.
Terrible decision.
But apparently my mother had been right.
I always tried to save people.
Unfortunately, I was also apparently stubborn.
I found Salvatore near the old bell tower.
He turned.
Gun pointed at me.
“No guards now.”
I stopped.
“Give me the ledger.”
“I don't have it.”
His eyes narrowed.
I'd left it behind the altar.
He stepped closer.
“You really are inconvenient.”
“So were my parents.”
His face hardened.
“Your father could have lived.”
“What?”
“All he had to do was give me the book.”
I stared.
“He chose the ledger over us?”
“No.”
Salvatore smiled cruelly.
“He hid it before you were born.”
A voice came behind us.
“He chose Cara.”
Dante.
Gun raised.
Blood covered his shoulder.
Salvatore turned.
“Dante.”
“Drop it.”
Salvatore laughed.
“You won't shoot me.”
“Why?”
“Because then you'll never know what happened to your mother.”
Dante froze.
I looked at him.
His mother had supposedly died when he was six.
Salvatore smiled.
“Yes.”
“One more Moretti family secret.”
Then the old bell above us moved.
A metallic groan.
Salvatore fired.
Dante shoved me aside.
The bullet hit him.
He staggered backward.
“Dante!”
Salvatore ran.
I dropped beside Dante.
Blood spread across his shirt.
His eyes struggled to stay open.
“Don't,” he whispered.
“What?”
“Don't follow him.”
I pressed my hands against the wound.
“You are really bad at taking your own advice.”
His mouth moved weakly.
“Cara.”
“Stay awake.”
Below us, screaming continued.
Then Salvatore's voice echoed through the church speaker system.
“Bring me the ledger within ten minutes…”
A pause.
“…or I'll tell Dante where his mother has been imprisoned for thirty-two years.”
Dante's eyes opened.
May you like
And for the first time since I'd met him, pure fear appeared on his face.
“My mother is alive.”
