Chapter 8 - The Truth My Father Couldn't Bury|
Dominic Moretti spent his first night of freedom in a private hospital room with two federal agents stationed outside.
He slept beneath a clean white blanket.
A nurse checked his pulse every hour.
Nobody locked his door.
Nobody threatened him.
And nobody told him that his son was dead.
Yet every time someone approached his bed, he flinched.
I stood near the window watching Luca sit beside him.
The man everyone feared in Chicago was holding his father's hand as though he were afraid it might disappear.
“Are you hungry, Dad?”
Dominic shook his head.
“Maybe later.”
“Do you need anything?”
The old man looked toward the doorway.
“Don't let them take me back.”
Luca's face tightened.
“They won't.”
Dominic studied him.
“You sound like your grandfather.”
Luca gave a small, sad smile.
“Everybody says that.”
“That's not always a compliment.”
A silence settled between them.
Then Dominic looked at me.
“Who's the young lady?”
“Claire Sullivan,” I answered.
“She helped Margaret find me.”
He looked at my borrowed shoes.
Then at Margaret, who was asleep in a chair near the bed.
“She told me.”
His lips trembled.
“You gave her your shoes.”
I nodded.
“They weren't anything special.”
Dominic shook his head.
“They were to her.”
I looked away, suddenly embarrassed.
He reached toward me.
I took his hand.
“Thank you for bringing my family back.”
I wanted to tell him that he didn't owe me anything.
But my throat was too tight.
Later that afternoon, Maya returned with several investigators.
Dominic agreed to speak with them after his doctor confirmed he was well enough.
Luca asked to remain in the room.
Maya hesitated.
Then Dominic spoke.
“I've spent thirty years with people telling me who I'm allowed to see.”
His voice was weak but steady.
“My son stays.”
Maya nodded.
For almost two hours, Dominic described the events that had destroyed his life.
He admitted that he and Victor had once moved illegal money through shipping companies.
He admitted signing false invoices.
He admitted looking the other way when workers complained about missing wages.
“I thought I could fix it after I made enough money,” he said.
“I told myself I was protecting my family.”
He looked toward Luca.
“That was the lie I kept telling myself.”
Luca lowered his eyes.
Dominic continued.
In 1996, Leonard Price had worked as a warehouse maintenance supervisor.
He discovered that Victor was using company records to conceal stolen funds and fraudulent property transfers.
Leonard threatened to report it.
Dominic initially tried to persuade him to keep quiet.
Then he realized Victor intended to have Leonard killed.
“I called Leonard and told him to meet me at the warehouse.”
Dominic's voice cracked.
“I wanted to give him the documents and help him leave town.”
“But Victor found out.”
He stopped speaking.
His hands began trembling.
Maya waited.
Finally, Dominic continued.
“When I arrived, Victor's men were already there.”
“They took the documents.”
“They locked Leonard in a storage room.”
“And they told me that if I made a sound, Luca would be next.”
I felt the room grow cold.
“What happened to Leonard?” Maya asked.
Dominic closed his eyes.
“The fire started before I could reach him.”
“He was still inside.”
Luca stared at his father.
“Victor killed him?”
Dominic nodded.
“And afterward, he made everyone believe Leonard's body was mine.”
Maya wrote something in her notebook.
“Why did Victor keep you alive?”
“Because he needed my signature.”
Dominic swallowed.
“Some of the property companies were held under agreements that required my approval.”
“He forced me to sign documents year after year.”
“He also believed I had hidden records that could destroy him.”
“Did you?”
Dominic looked at Luca.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“At Saint Anthony's restaurant.”
“The third stair?”
Dominic nodded.
“I hid the originals before the warehouse fire.”
“Victor never found them.”
Luca stood.
“Then we get them.”
Dominic gripped his hand.
“Not alone.”
“You don't know what he'll do.”
Luca looked at his father.
“I know exactly what he'll do.”
The old man shook his head.
“No, son.”
“You don't.”
He glanced toward the hospital door.
“Victor never works alone.”
“Someone close to you has been helping him.”
Tomas, who had just entered the room, stopped walking.
Luca frowned.
“Who?”
Dominic hesitated.
“A man named Salvatore Russo.”
Luca went rigid.
Uncle Sal.
I had heard that name before.
Salvatore had been Luca's father's oldest friend.
He had helped raise Luca after Dominic's supposed death.
For years, Luca had treated him like family.
“No,” Luca whispered.
Dominic's eyes filled with tears.
“He was there the night of the fire.”
“He watched them take me away.”
Luca stepped backward.
But before he could answer, my phone began ringing.
It was one of the men guarding my mother.
I answered.
“Hello?”
There was no response.
Then I heard a terrible groan.
“Hello?”
A man's voice whispered.
“Miss Sullivan, I'm sorry.”
My heart began racing.
“What happened?”
“Someone knew where we were.”
My legs weakened.
“Where's my mother?”
A long silence followed.
Then an unfamiliar voice came through the phone.
“Hello, Claire.”
I recognized it immediately.
Victor Bellini.
I couldn't breathe.
“Where is she?”
He chuckled softly.
“Your mother is a very pleasant woman.”
“She keeps asking whether you've eaten.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“If you hurt her—”
“Then stop making threats you can't keep.”
His voice hardened.
“Bring me what Dominic hid beneath the third stair.”
“Come alone.”
I looked toward Luca.
May you like
Victor spoke one final time.
“And tell your precious Mafia boss that if he sends anyone after me, the next photograph you receive will be of your mother's funeral.”
