Chapter 4 - A Grave With No Body
At seven the next morning, Salvatore ordered Elena Russo’s grave opened.
No ceremony.
No priest.
No family announcement.
Only rain, four trusted men, a cemetery administrator who had received enough money to forget what he witnessed, and the Moretti brothers standing beneath black umbrellas.
Gabriel was asleep at the estate under Rosa’s watch.
Salvatore had not slept.
Dominic stood fifteen feet away.
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“Maybe.”
“Opening a thirteen-year-old grave because a street child carried you a letter?”
“My child.”
“You don’t know that.”
Salvatore stared at him.
“You sound nervous.”
Dominic laughed.
“I sound embarrassed.”
Vincent remained silent.
That worried Salvatore more than Dominic’s insults.
The machinery stopped.
Workers descended.
Minutes later, the coffin emerged.
Salvatore’s chest tightened.
He remembered that funeral.
He remembered standing in the church while everyone told him Elena had died in a highway accident outside Albany.
Her body had supposedly been too badly burned for viewing.
Dominic had handled identification.
Dominic had arranged everything.
At the time, Salvatore had been twenty-nine, vicious, grieving, and too broken to question the brother who promised to handle what he could not.
The cemetery worker loosened the bolts.
Salvatore stepped closer.
The lid lifted.
Inside lay silk lining.
A rosary.
A sealed metal box containing supposed personal effects.
No body.
Nothing else.
Vincent whispered, “Jesus Christ.”
Salvatore looked at Dominic.
The older man did not flinch.
“You knew,” Salvatore said.
Dominic sighed.
“I suspected.”
“You buried an empty coffin.”
“I protected this family.”
Salvatore moved so fast Carmine barely intercepted him.
The punch landed anyway.
Dominic staggered backward, blood appearing at the corner of his mouth.
“You buried her alive.”
“No.”
Salvatore grabbed his brother by the coat.
“Then tell me where she was.”
Dominic’s gaze hardened.
“You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“You were weak because of her.”
Salvatore stopped.
Dominic wiped his lip.
“You were prepared to walk away.”
“That was my decision.”
“You were next in line to control everything Father built. You were talking about leaving New York, buying some ridiculous farmhouse, raising children.”
Salvatore’s grip tightened.
“She was pregnant.”
“I know.”
The cemetery seemed to tilt beneath Salvatore.
“You knew?”
“She told me.”
“And?”
“I told her if she loved you, she would disappear.”
Salvatore’s face emptied.
Dominic continued.
“You were twenty-nine. Enemies everywhere. Federal investigations. Three families waiting for Moretti leadership to fracture. A wife and infant would have been leverage around your throat.”
“She wasn’t my weakness.”
“She absolutely was.”
“What did you threaten her with?”
Dominic smiled bitterly.
“Reality.”
“Answer me.”
“I showed her photographs of you being followed. Told her that if she stayed, your enemies would eventually reach her child.”
Salvatore’s hands shook.
“She left to protect us.”
“Yes.”
“And you staged her death.”
“Yes.”
Vincent stepped forward.
“Dominic, what the hell?”
Dominic turned toward him.
“Don’t pretend innocence suits you.”
Salvatore looked at Vincent.
Vincent’s face changed.
“What does that mean?”
Dominic chuckled.
“You think I handled this alone?”
Vincent shook his head.
“No.”
“Tell him.”
“Tell me what?” Salvatore demanded.
Vincent backed away.
Dominic smiled.
“Ask him who drove Elena out of New York.”
Salvatore looked at his younger brother.
Vincent whispered, “Sal…”
“Who drove her?”
Vincent closed his eyes.
“I did.”
Salvatore punched him hard enough to put him against the side of the excavator.
Carmine did not interfere.
Vincent spat blood.
“I thought I was saving you.”
“You stole thirteen years.”
“We thought she would stay gone!”
“She was carrying my son.”
“We didn’t know if—”
“You knew she was pregnant!”
Dominic stepped between them.
“Enough.”
Salvatore turned slowly.
Dominic should have stayed silent.
Instead he said, “The boy survived. Elena survived longer than expected. This can still be contained.”
Contained.
Salvatore’s expression became terrifyingly calm.
“What does that mean?”
Dominic adjusted his coat.
“It means the boy’s existence creates complications. Inheritance. Succession. Enemies. Public exposure. If Gabriel is truly yours, announcing him paints a target on his back.”
“You’re concerned about his safety now?”
“I’m concerned about Moretti stability.”
Salvatore stepped closer.
“Listen carefully. Gabriel is not a complication.”
Dominic said nothing.
“He is my son.”
“You haven’t tested—”
“I don’t need a test to know what Elena wrote.”
“That is emotion speaking.”
“Maybe.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
Salvatore leaned close enough for only his brothers to hear.
“Touch him, frighten him, speak against him, send someone near him without my permission—and there will only be two Moretti brothers left.”
He walked away.
Carmine followed.
Halfway toward the car, Vincent called after him.
“Salvatore.”
He stopped.
Vincent stood beside the open, empty coffin.
“There’s something else.”
Salvatore waited.
Vincent glanced toward Dominic.
Fear crossed his face.
A fear older than this morning.
“Elena came back once.”
Salvatore turned fully.
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
The world went quiet again.
“Where?”
“She found me outside my office.”
“What did she want?”
Vincent swallowed.
“To give you Gabriel.”
Salvatore could barely breathe.
Vincent continued, voice cracking.
“She said she couldn’t keep running. She begged me to bring her to you.”
“And you didn’t.”
“I was going to.”
“Then what happened?”
Vincent’s eyes moved toward Dominic.
“She disappeared that night.”
Salvatore followed the look.
Dominic no longer smiled.
May you like
Vincent whispered the final words.
“And I never saw her again.”
