Chapter 6 - The Man She Came Home To
Clara returned to the Falcone mansion at 4:36 in the morning.
Six black vehicles surrounded the property.
Armed guards stood at every entrance.
For years, Clara had considered the mansion home.
That morning, it looked like a fortress belonging to somebody else.
Matteo opened the car door.
She did not take his hand.
He noticed.
He said nothing.
Evelyn was waiting inside.
The moment she saw Clara, she ran.
Clara collapsed into her arms.
“Oh my God.”
Evelyn held her face.
“You’re here.”
Clara began crying again.
Matteo remained near the doorway.
Watching.
Excluded.
He accepted it.
A private physician examined Clara in an upstairs guest bedroom because she refused to enter the master suite.
Minor concussion.
Cuts.
Bruised ribs.
Dehydration.
No major internal injuries.
Matteo stood outside the room for nearly two hours.
When the doctor emerged, he asked one question.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fortunate.”
Matteo looked through the open doorway.
Fortunate.
He hated the word.
There was nothing fortunate about what had happened.
Clara noticed him.
“Come in.”
Evelyn immediately looked angry.
Clara touched her arm.
“It’s okay.”
Matteo entered.
The door closed behind him.
For several seconds, husband and wife stared at each other.
Clara sat on the edge of the bed wearing gray sweatpants and one of Evelyn’s sweaters.
No diamonds.
No silk.
No Falcone glamour.
She had never looked more important to him.
“Sit.”
Matteo sat in a chair across from her.
Not beside her.
Clara folded her hands.
“Adrian?”
“Alive.”
She exhaled.
“The bullet missed his heart.”
“His father?”
“Waiting at the hospital.”
Clara nodded.
“Good.”
Matteo stared at his hands.
“I called Peter’s attorney.”
She looked at him.
“The weapons charges?”
“Handled.”
“How?”
“I gave federal investigators proof that his company had been used without authorization.”
“Proof?”
“Yes.”
“Real proof?”
Matteo looked at her.
“Yes.”
She nodded.
A tiny piece of tension left her face.
He realized something painful.
She had expected him to lie.
“I’m shutting down the weapons routes.”
Clara stared.
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“Because I was kidnapped?”
“No.”
He paused.
“Because you were right before you were kidnapped.”
Silence.
Matteo continued.
“I promised you I would change.”
“You promised me six years ago.”
“I know.”
“And then every time your business demanded something ugly, you told yourself it was temporary.”
“Yes.”
“You made me feel naive for believing you.”
“I know.”
Her eyes filled.
“I spent years defending you.”
Matteo looked down.
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
He looked up.
“Then tell me what you want me to say.”
“The truth.”
He swallowed.
“The truth is I became my father.”
Clara’s breathing changed.
Matteo continued before he lost the courage.
“Not completely. Not yet.”
He looked toward the dark window.
“But enough.”
Clara said nothing.
“The truth is when you compared me to him, I didn’t leave you because I thought you were wrong.”
His voice roughened.
“I left you because I knew you were right.”
Clara covered her mouth.
“I wanted to punish you for making me see myself.”
Matteo’s eyes reddened.
“And you almost died because of it.”
He stood.
“I won’t ask you to forgive me.”
She stared.
“I won’t ask you to stay.”
That hurt more than she expected.
Matteo continued.
“When this is over, if you want a divorce, you’ll have one.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“The house. Money. Anything you want.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He nodded.
“You wanted me.”
The answer silenced them both.
Matteo looked at her.
“And I treated that like something I could never lose.”
Clara began to cry.
He instinctively moved toward her.
Then stopped.
She noticed.
For the first time, Matteo was asking permission without words.
Clara did not give it.
He stepped back.
“I’ll be downstairs.”
“Matteo.”
He turned.
“Adrian told us not to trust Thaddeus.”
Matteo’s expression changed.
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
“I’ve trusted him with my life.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Matteo looked toward the door.
“I don’t know anymore.”
Thaddeus Russell had disappeared.
Shortly after the rescue, while everyone focused on Clara and Adrian, security discovered his vehicle leaving the industrial district.
His phone went dead twenty minutes later.
No explanation.
No contact.
No trace.
Matteo had not told Clara yet.
Now he did.
“He’s gone.”
Clara stared.
“Then Adrian may have been right.”
“Maybe.”
“What would Thaddeus gain from helping Victor?”
Matteo looked grim.
“My empire.”
By sunrise, Falcone soldiers searched Chicago for the second most powerful man in the organization.
They found his car near Navy Pier.
Inside was blood.
A smashed phone.
And a note.
ASK YOUR FATHER WHO REALLY KILLED DANIEL DANE.
Matteo read it twice.
His father had been dead seven years.
But dead men still ruled the Falcone family through secrets.
Samuel Cole joined Matteo in the study.
“My son woke up.”
Matteo looked up.
“What did he say?”
“That Victor kept talking about your father.”
Samuel sat.
“He said there was a list.”
“What list?”
“People your father ordered eliminated during the final years of his rule.”
Matteo frowned.
“My father kept hundreds of names.”
“No.”
Samuel shook his head.
“This was different.”
He lowered his voice.
“According to Adrian, the list included people who were never actually killed.”
Matteo stared.
Samuel continued.
“Men who disappeared. Witnesses. Accountants. Politicians.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Matteo suddenly remembered something from childhood.
His father meeting strangers in the basement.
Suitcases.
Passports.
Fake identities.
He had assumed they were fugitives.
“What if my father didn’t kill them?”
Samuel’s expression darkened.
“What if he sold them?”
Matteo turned.
Human trafficking was one line even old Salvatore Falcone claimed never to cross.
But Salvatore had lied about almost everything else.
Clara appeared in the doorway.
She had heard enough.
“Sold them to whom?”
Matteo looked at her.
“You should be resting.”
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
Clara entered.
“Victor didn’t kidnap me only for revenge.”
Matteo frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“He kept asking about something called the ledger. But when I listened to his men, they weren’t talking about money.”
She closed her eyes, remembering.
“One of them said, ‘If the names come out, half the city falls.’”
Matteo exchanged a look with Samuel.
Clara continued.
“They mentioned judges. Police. A former governor.”
Samuel went pale.
Matteo understood.
His father’s hidden ledger might not simply record crimes.
It might record ownership.
Blackmail.
Corrupt officials.
Disappearances.
Possibly decades of them.
The steel compartment in the library had been opened.
The ledger was missing.
And someone had framed Anthony accessing the room.
Matteo stared toward the hallway.
“If Thaddeus has the ledger…”
Clara finished.
“Then Victor doesn’t need revenge.”
“He can take Chicago.”
A phone rang.
Not Matteo’s.
Clara looked down.
A phone sat on the bedside table.
Her replacement device.
Only three people had the number.
Evelyn.
Peter.
Matteo.
Unknown caller.
She answered.
“Hello?”
A familiar voice whispered:
“Mrs. Falcone?”
Clara froze.
“Thaddeus?”
Matteo stood.
Thaddeus sounded weak.
“I didn’t betray you.”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What happened?”
“He knows everything.”
“Who?”
A crash sounded.
Thaddeus gasped.
“Your father wasn’t the king, Matteo.”
Matteo grabbed the phone.
“Thaddeus!”
Silence.
Then a different voice came through.
Smooth.
Older.
Unknown.
“Hello, son.”
Matteo went white.
Clara stared.
The man on the phone laughed softly.
“You’ve been sitting on my throne for seven years.”
Matteo’s fingers tightened around the phone.
Because there was only one person who had ever called him son in that exact cold tone.
A man Matteo had watched placed inside a coffin.
A man whose body had supposedly been buried at Mount Carmel Cemetery.
May you like
His father.
Salvatore Falcone.
