Chapter 6 - The Man Inside the Rossi HouseGabriel covered me with his body before the broken glass finished hitting the floor.
“Stay down.”
Another shot struck the wall.
Lucia screamed.
Marco returned fire from outside.
I crawled behind the heavy desk.
“Who is shooting?”
“If I knew, I’d introduce you.”
“This is not the time for sarcasm.”
“It keeps me calm.”
“You look homicidal.”
“That also keeps me calm.”
A car engine roared outside.
Then silence.
Gabriel waited.
Marco entered with a handgun lowered at his side.
“They’re gone.”
“How many?”
“Two. Maybe three.”
“Did you recognize them?”
“No.”
Lucia leaned against the wall.
“They came for the ledger.”
I looked at the floorboards.
Gabriel did too.
We found it beneath a loose plank under Enzo’s desk.
Not a leather notebook.
A black accounting ledger sealed inside plastic.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Decades of them.
The most recent entry was only nine months old.
Gabriel stared at it.
“This continued after Enzo disappeared.”
Lucia nodded.
“Daniel built an entire network from what he learned working for the Rossi businesses.”
“Daniel died years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then who continued it?”
Lucia pointed toward the last page.
One set of initials appeared repeatedly.
A.B.
Marco went pale.
Gabriel noticed.
“You know those initials.”
Marco said nothing.
“Marco.”
“Antonio Bellini.”
Gabriel froze.
“Your brother?”
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped.
Marco looked older suddenly.
“Antonio has worked for Salvatore since before you were born.”
Gabriel took out his phone.
No signal.
Marco tried his.
Nothing.
Lucia looked toward the shattered window.
“They jammed the phones.”
“We leave now,” Gabriel said.
The drive back to New York took five hours.
Five hours wondering whether Antonio had already reached Salvatore.
Five hours wondering whether my mother was sitting in the same house with the man who had helped destroy my father’s life.
When our phones finally regained service, Gabriel had seventeen missed calls.
One message.
From my mother.
Tessa, something is wrong. Salvatore collapsed. Antonio says he is taking us to the hospital.
Gabriel called immediately.
No answer.
He called Antonio.
Disconnected.
“Drive faster,” he told Marco.
“I am.”
“Faster.”
We reached Manhattan after midnight.
Salvatore was not at any hospital.
Neither was my mother.
For twenty minutes, Gabriel became someone I had never seen.
Cold.
Efficient.
Terrifying.
Phones rang.
Doors opened.
Men appeared from nowhere.
Every person in the Rossi organization seemed to respond to Gabriel with the same immediate obedience they had once given Salvatore.
I understood then why people feared him.
Not because he shouted.
He never did.
Because when Gabriel became angry, everyone else became quiet.
Finally, someone found the car.
Abandoned near Red Hook.
My mother’s purse was inside.
So was Salvatore’s cane.
I picked it up.
The handle was warm from the car heater.
Something inside me hardened.
“This ends tonight.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“I agree.”
“No more hiding evidence.”
“I agree.”
“No more protecting the family name.”
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
“No more.”
Marco studied the ledger.
“Antonio has property in Queens. Warehouses. Garages.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“He knows we would search them.”
I remembered something.
“The bakery.”
Gabriel turned.
“What?”
“The original bakery records. Salvatore said Vieri used several businesses.”
Marco understood first.
“There was another bakery.”
“Where?”
“Brooklyn.”
Twenty-five minutes later, we reached an abandoned brick building near the waterfront.
The blue paint on its door had nearly disappeared.
Inside, we heard voices.
Antonio.
My mother.
Salvatore.
Gabriel wanted me to stay outside.
I refused.
For once, he did not argue.
We entered through the rear.
My mother sat tied to a chair.
Salvatore lay on the floor beside her, conscious but weak.
Antonio stood near a table.
He was in his late sixties.
Ordinary-looking.
That frightened me more.
He smiled when he saw us.
“Enzo’s children.”
Gabriel raised his gun.
“Untie them.”
Antonio laughed.
“You look exactly like him.”
“I said untie them.”
“You know, your father made the same mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“Thinking truth mattered more than survival.”
I stepped forward.
“You helped Daniel Vieri.”
Antonio looked at me.
“Teresa.”
The way he said my name made my skin crawl.
“You’ve been watching me.”
“For years.”
“Why?”
“Insurance.”
“Against what?”
“Enzo coming home.”
Anger burned through me.
“He’s dead.”
“I know.”
“You knew where he was.”
Antonio smiled.
“Of course.”
Gabriel’s hand tightened around the weapon.
“You kept him away.”
“I reminded him what would happen if he returned.”
My mother began crying.
I looked at her.
Antonio continued.
“He loved you enough to believe me.”
“You threatened us.”
“Yes.”
“And when he died?”
“I needed the ledger.”
“You broke into Salvatore’s house.”
“Yes.”
“You sent the postcard.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To make you find Enzo’s records.”
I understood.
“You couldn’t find the ledger.”
“No.”
“So you used me.”
“Enzo always believed you were clever.”
He smiled.
“He was right.”
Gabriel moved closer.
“This is over.”
Antonio looked almost amused.
“No. This is inheritance.”
He reached beneath his coat.
Everything happened at once.
Gabriel moved.
Marco shouted.
A gun fired.
Antonio collapsed.
For one horrifying second, I thought Gabriel had shot him.
Then I saw Marco standing behind us.
His gun smoked.
Antonio looked at his brother.
“Marco.”
Marco’s face broke.
“You should have left the girl alone.”
Antonio laughed weakly.
“I did. For thirty years.”
Then police sirens filled the street.
Gabriel looked at Marco.
“You called them?”
Marco nodded.
“Your sister told me no more protecting the family.”
He looked at me.
“I decided she was right.”
Antonio survived.
He was arrested.
The ledger went to federal investigators.
Not to Gabriel.
Not to Salvatore.
Not into another hidden room.
Into evidence.
My mother was unharmed.
May you like
Salvatore spent three days in the hospital.
And for the first time in generations, the Rossi family allowed the truth to leave the house.
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