Chapter 8 - THE BROTHER AT THE FRONT DOOR|
Matteo stood at the top of the staircase holding the photograph.
For thirty years, he had believed his older brother was dead.
Now that brother was standing downstairs.
Alive.
Waiting.
And apparently carrying answers about the night their father was murdered.
I followed Matteo into the entrance hall.
A man stood beside the front door.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a simple charcoal coat.
His dark hair was beginning to gray at the temples.
A faint scar crossed his left eyebrow.
He looked nothing like the wealthy men who usually visited the mansion.
There was no expensive watch.
No polished designer shoes.
No confident smile.
But when he turned toward Matteo, the resemblance was unmistakable.
The same dark eyes.
The same strong jaw.
The same expression that seemed to hide more pain than anger.
Matteo stopped halfway down the staircase.
"Gabriel?"
The man looked up.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Gabriel answered.
"Hello, little brother."
Matteo gripped the banister.
I saw his face change.
The powerful man who had silenced twenty-eight dinner guests with a single sentence suddenly looked like a frightened child.
"You're alive."
Gabriel nodded.
"Yes."
Matteo descended the remaining steps.
He stopped a few feet away.
"Why?"
Gabriel frowned.
"Why what?"
"Why did everyone tell me you were dead?"
Gabriel looked toward the floor.
"Because someone wanted you to believe it."
"Who?"
"Our father."
Matteo stepped backward.
"No."
Gabriel's expression tightened.
"Matteo—"
"My father wouldn't do that."
Gabriel looked at him sadly.
"You remember him as the man who taught you to ride a bicycle."
Matteo said nothing.
"I remember him as the man who sent me away."
The silence between them was painful.
Finally, Matteo asked, "Why?"
Gabriel glanced toward me.
"Who is she?"
"Claire Bennett."
Gabriel's expression changed.
"Bennett?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
"Thomas Bennett's daughter?"
My heart stopped.
"You knew my father?"
Gabriel looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said something that made my knees weak.
"Your father saved my life."
Nobody moved.
I stared at him.
"What?"
Gabriel took a breath.
"When I was nineteen, someone tried to kill me."
Matteo's jaw tightened.
"Who?"
"Victor Bellini."
The name seemed to poison the air.
Gabriel continued.
"Thomas found me after the attack."
I stepped closer.
"Where?"
"Behind an auto repair shop."
My throat tightened.
"My father's shop?"
Gabriel nodded.
"He hid me until I could get help."
I covered my mouth.
For years, I had known my father as the man who made pancakes shaped like hearts.
The man who carried me on his shoulders.
The man who taught me to tie my shoes.
Now I was learning that he had risked his life to protect someone else's child.
Gabriel looked at me.
"He was a good man, Claire."
Tears filled my eyes.
"I know."
"He was brave."
I swallowed.
"I know."
Gabriel's voice softened.
"And he loved you very much."
I began crying.
Matteo moved closer, but he didn't interrupt.
Gabriel continued.
"Thomas kept a photograph of you in his wallet."
I wiped my eyes.
"He showed it to everyone."
I laughed through my tears.
"That sounds like him."
Gabriel reached into his coat.
He removed an old leather wallet.
Its edges were worn.
The stitching had begun to separate.
He held it out.
"This belonged to your father."
My breath caught.
I stared at it.
"How?"
"He gave it to me the night he helped me escape."
"Why?"
Gabriel swallowed.
"He told me that if something happened to him, I should make sure his daughters knew he loved them."
I took the wallet.
My fingers trembled.
Inside was a faded photograph.
A little girl with dark hair and a missing front tooth.
Me.
Behind it was another photograph.
My mother holding baby Lily.
I pressed the wallet against my chest.
For the first time in twenty-one years, I held something my father had carried every day.
Something that had been close to his heart.
Matteo looked at Gabriel.
"Why didn't you come forward?"
Gabriel's expression darkened.
"Because Victor told me he'd kill everyone who helped me."
"And you believed him?"
Gabriel looked at me.
"Thomas died three months later."
The words settled over us.
Matteo lowered his head.
Gabriel continued.
"After that, I stopped doubting Victor's threats."
I wiped my eyes.
"Where have you been?"
"Working with charities."
"Under another name?"
He nodded.
"Daniel Mercer."
"Why that name?"
"Daniel was my mother's brother."
Matteo looked up.
"Your mother?"
Gabriel's face softened.
"Elena Mercer."
Matteo stared at him.
"I was told she died."
"She did."
"When?"
"Two years after I was born."
Matteo swallowed.
"I'm sorry."
Gabriel nodded.
"Your mother helped raise me."
The room went silent.
Matteo looked stunned.
"Isabella?"
Gabriel smiled sadly.
"She was the only mother I really remember."
Matteo stepped backward.
"She raised you?"
"Until I was eight."
"Then why did you leave?"
Gabriel's expression changed.
"Because our father discovered that someone was using me to threaten her."
Matteo frowned.
"Victor?"
Gabriel nodded.
"He knew I was Anthony's son."
"And?"
"He threatened to expose family secrets unless Anthony gave him control of the Harbor fund."
Matteo stared.
"What family secrets?"
Gabriel hesitated.
Then he said, "Your father wasn't always the man you remember."
Matteo's expression hardened.
"Explain."
Gabriel looked around the enormous entrance hall.
"Can we sit somewhere private?"
Matteo nodded.
We moved into the library.
Eleanor and Margaret joined us.
Lily appeared a few minutes later, carrying two mugs of coffee.
She looked at Gabriel.
Then Matteo.
Then back at Gabriel.
"Wow."
I closed my eyes.
"Lily."
She blinked.
"Sorry."
Gabriel smiled.
"It's all right."
She placed the coffee on the table.
"You two really look alike."
Matteo looked at his brother.
For the first time, a faint smile appeared.
"Apparently."
Gabriel sat beside the fireplace.
Then he began.
"Our father built his businesses during a dangerous time."
Matteo nodded.
"I know."
"He made money through legitimate companies, but he also worked with men who weren't interested in following the law."
Matteo's expression tightened.
"Victor was one of them."
"Yes."
Gabriel looked toward Eleanor.
"Anthony wanted to leave that world behind after Matteo was born."
Eleanor nodded.
"He did."
"But Victor didn't."
Gabriel continued.
"Victor believed the family owed him money."
"Why?" Matteo asked.
"Because he helped build some of the businesses."
"That doesn't explain the theft."
"No."
Gabriel leaned forward.
"Victor discovered the Harbor fund."
Matteo frowned.
"He was already involved in it."
"Not at first."
Gabriel shook his head.
"Your parents established it privately."
He looked at me.
"They wanted to support families whose loved ones died in dangerous jobs."
I thought of my mother.
Gabriel continued.
"Victor saw the fund as money he could control."
"So he stole it," Matteo said.
"Over several years."
"How?"
"False invoices."
"Shell companies."
"Property transfers."
Gabriel paused.
"And forged signatures."
Matteo looked toward the documents on the table.
"The cottages."
Gabriel nodded.
"Those were the final assets he couldn't reach."
"Why?"
"Because Isabella placed them inside a protected trust."
Margaret leaned forward.
"She did that after Anthony died."
Gabriel nodded.
"Exactly."
Matteo stared at him.
"How do you know all this?"
Gabriel hesitated.
Then he reached into his coat.
He removed a small notebook.
Its cover was cracked.
Its pages were yellow.
"This belonged to our father."
Matteo stared at it.
Gabriel placed it on the table.
"Anthony kept records."
"Of what?"
"Everything."
Matteo opened the notebook.
The first page contained dates.
Names.
Payments.
Then he turned another page.
His expression changed.
I leaned closer.
There was a handwritten list of companies.
Bellini Holdings.
North Harbor Storage.
Westbridge Development.
And one name that made Matteo stop.
DeLuca Family Foundation.
Beside it was a note.
VICTOR — UNAUTHORIZED TRANSFERS.
Matteo turned another page.
Then another.
Finally, he reached a folded sheet.
It contained a handwritten confession.
Not from Victor.
From Anthony DeLuca.
Matteo began reading silently.
His face slowly drained of color.
Gabriel watched him.
"Matteo."
He didn't answer.
"Little brother."
Matteo looked up.
His eyes were filled with disbelief.
"Our father knew."
Gabriel nodded.
Matteo stared at the paper.
"He knew Victor was stealing."
"Yes."
"And he didn't stop him."
Gabriel looked down.
"Not immediately."
Matteo stood.
"Why?"
Gabriel's voice was quiet.
"Because Victor had evidence of crimes Anthony committed years earlier."
The room went silent.
Matteo looked toward the fireplace.
I could almost see the memories breaking apart inside him.
His father had been a hero in his childhood.
A man whose photograph stood above the mantel.
A man whose name had shaped everything Matteo believed about loyalty.
Now that image was changing.
Gabriel spoke gently.
"Our father eventually tried to make things right."
Matteo turned.
"Too late."
Gabriel nodded.
"Yes."
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then Matteo sat down again.
He looked exhausted.
"What happened the night he died?"
Gabriel closed his eyes.
"I was eleven."
Matteo frowned.
"You were eleven?"
"Yes."
"I was nine."
Gabriel nodded.
"Anthony called Isabella that evening."
Eleanor covered her mouth.
"He told her he was going to meet Victor at the warehouse."
Matteo leaned forward.
"Why?"
"To confront him."
"About the fund?"
"Yes."
Gabriel looked at the notebook.
"Anthony had discovered that Victor was planning to transfer money out of the country."
Matteo's jaw tightened.
"And?"
"He told Victor he was going to the authorities."
I held my breath.
Gabriel continued.
"Victor agreed to meet him."
"At the warehouse?"
"Yes."
Matteo stared.
"What happened?"
Gabriel swallowed.
"Anthony arrived with two men."
"Who?"
"Robert Hale."
Matteo's expression darkened.
"And?"
Gabriel looked toward Eleanor.
The elderly woman began crying.
Matteo noticed.
"Ellie?"
She shook her head.
"Oh, sweetheart."
Gabriel continued.
"The third man was someone Anthony trusted more than anyone."
Matteo frowned.
"Who?"
Gabriel looked directly at him.
"His younger brother."
Matteo went still.
"My uncle?"
Gabriel nodded.
"Dominic DeLuca."
Matteo stared.
"Dominic died fifteen years ago."
"Yes."
"Then why didn't anyone tell me he was there?"
Gabriel's expression darkened.
"Because Dominic was the one who opened the warehouse door."
The room became silent.
Matteo slowly stood.
His voice was barely audible.
"Opened it for whom?"
Gabriel looked at him.
"Victor's men."
Matteo stared at the notebook.
Then Gabriel delivered the truth that changed everything.
"Your uncle didn't just betray our father, Matteo."
May you like
He swallowed.
"He was paid to do it."
