Chapter 16 - The Woman From Gabriel’s Past
Sister Agnes was seventy-two and had a scar across her throat.
Gabriel remembered that scar.
When he was a baby, he had touched it whenever she held him.
He had forgotten her face.
His body had not.
“Agnes?”
She smiled through tears.
“You remember.”
He threw his arms around her.
Then he pulled back.
“Why are you sneaking?”
“Because someone followed me.”
Gabriel grabbed the alarm.
This time he pressed it.
The farmhouse erupted.
Carmine’s men stormed upstairs.
Mrs. Alvarez entered with a gun.
Then stopped.
“Agnes?”
The nun raised her hands.
“Hello, Maria.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Trying not to die.”
Outside, an engine started.
Carmine’s men ran.
A black vehicle tore away from the woods.
They fired at tires but missed.
Mrs. Alvarez locked the doors.
“Who followed you?”
Agnes sat trembling.
“I don’t know.”
“Vittorio?”
“Maybe.”
Gabriel climbed beside her.
“Why did Mom say you were dead?”
Agnes looked at him sadly.
“Because that was the safest thing she could tell you.”
The same story again.
Dead people who were alive.
Living people forced to vanish.
Gabriel was beginning to hate secrets more than hunger.
“Tell me everything.”
Agnes looked toward Mrs. Alvarez.
“He deserves it.”
Maria nodded.
Agnes began.
Seven years earlier, Elena had returned to New York with infant Gabriel.
She had contacted Vincent.
Dominic intercepted her.
But Dominic did not hand her to Vittorio.
Instead, he brought her to an abandoned church where Agnes worked.
“He told me to hide them,” Agnes said.
Gabriel frowned.
“Uncle Dominic?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I think seeing you changed him.”
Mrs. Alvarez crossed her arms.
“Not enough.”
“No.”
Agnes agreed.
“Dominic was still afraid of Vittorio. He wanted Elena hidden, not free.”
“What happened?”
“Vittorio found us.”
Gabriel’s face tightened.
“He came himself?”
“Yes.”
Agnes touched the scar.
“He gave me this.”
Gabriel looked at her throat.
“He tried to kill you.”
“Yes.”
“But you lived.”
“Barely.”
“What did Mom do?”
Agnes smiled.
“She burned the church kitchen and escaped through the smoke.”
Gabriel almost smiled too.
“That sounds like Mom.”
“It does.”
Agnes reached into her bag.
“I came because Elena left something with me.”
A sealed envelope.
For Gabriel.
His hands trembled.
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
“Why didn’t you give it to me?”
“She said only if Salvatore found you.”
Gabriel stared at the envelope.
“He did.”
“Yes.”
The letter was written in Elena’s careful script.
Gabriel read slowly.
My sweet boy, if you are reading this, then your father knows you exist. I wish I could see the two of you standing together. I wish I could tell you what his face looked like the first time he felt you kick. He cried and then denied it for three years.
Gabriel smiled through tears.
He kept reading.
There will be people who tell you your blood decides what kind of man you become. They are wrong. Blood is history, not destiny.
His voice cracked.
Mrs. Alvarez looked away.
Your father carries anger. I carry fear. You may inherit both. But you also inherit choice. That is the only inheritance that matters.
Gabriel stopped.
Below was another paragraph.
The archive must not belong to Salvatore, Vittorio, the government, or any Moretti. Give it to the victims. Let the people whose lives were stolen decide what happens to the truth.
Gabriel stared.
At the bottom:
And tell your father I forgave him for not finding me. I never forgave the world for teaching him that power mattered more than tenderness. Maybe you can teach him differently.
Gabriel folded the letter against his chest.
At 11:42 p.m., Salvatore arrived at the old Moretti estate on Long Island.
The property had been abandoned since Isabella’s death.
The chapel stood behind the main house.
Inside, candles were burning.
Vittorio waited at the altar.
Alone.
Salvatore entered with his gun raised.
“You’re late.”
“You’re surrounded.”
“No.”
Vittorio smiled.
“You are.”
Men appeared behind the pews.
Former police.
Private soldiers.
Two faces Salvatore recognized from city government.
The archive had bought loyalty well.
Vittorio held a device.
“One press.”
“You destroy it?”
“Yes.”
“Then you lose leverage.”
“Better no crown than seeing it on another man’s head.”
Salvatore almost laughed.
“This was always about the throne.”
“It was about family.”
“You trafficked children.”
“I built an empire.”
“You built a graveyard.”
Vittorio’s eyes narrowed.
“And you enjoyed the money.”
That struck.
Because it was true.
Salvatore had benefited from systems he did not examine closely enough.
He had called ignorance innocence.
Gabriel had changed that.
“I’ll answer for what I did.”
Vittorio blinked.
“What?”
“I’ll testify.”
The old man laughed.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll lose everything.”
“Maybe.”
“Your companies.”
“Yes.”
“Your homes.”
“Yes.”
“Your name.”
Salvatore smiled faintly.
“I just found the only part of my name that matters.”
Vittorio understood.
Gabriel.
His expression became vicious.
He pressed the device.
Nothing happened.
He pressed again.
Nothing.
A voice came from behind the altar.
Dominic.
“You always trusted technology too much, Father.”
Vittorio spun.
Dominic stepped out on crutches, pale but smiling.
“You?”
“I disabled the transmitter nineteen years ago.”
“What?”
Dominic looked toward Salvatore.
“Mother asked me to.”
Vittorio raised his gun.
Gunfire exploded.
Salvatore fired first.
The bullet struck Vittorio’s shoulder.
His men scattered.
Federal teams breached windows.
Sloan had arrived.
Within seconds the chapel became smoke, shouting, splintered wood.
Vittorio fell behind the altar.
Salvatore approached.
His father reached for a second weapon.
Salvatore aimed.
One shot would end it.
Gabriel would never know.
Nobody would blame him.
Then Salvatore remembered the boy’s question.
Are you going to kill Vittorio?
He lowered the gun.
Vittorio smiled.
“You’re weak.”
Salvatore looked at him.
“No.”
Federal agents grabbed Vittorio.
“I’m done letting you choose what kind of man I am.”
They dragged him away.
For the first time in Salvatore’s life, he defeated his father without becoming him.
Then Sloan’s phone rang.
Her face changed.
“What?”
Salvatore asked.
She looked at him.
“The farmhouse was breached.”
His heart stopped.
“Gabriel?”
“Alive.”
Salvatore breathed.
May you like
Then Sloan continued.
“But Sister Agnes was shot.”
