Chapter 10 - The Last Page
St. Michael’s Church had survived two wars, one fire, three corrupt priests and the demolition of every building that once stood around it.
Its stone foundation was older than the Moretti organization.
Antonio Moretti and Lucia Vescari had met there secretly forty-nine years earlier.
Now three generations of their mistakes returned.
Salvatore entered after midnight.
Gabriel beside him.
Carmine behind.
Matteo stayed in the car under protest.
Salvatore had finally learned to ignore the protest.
Mostly.
The brass storage key fit a lock beneath the old altar.
Inside was a steel cylinder.
Gabriel entered his cipher.
Salvatore inserted the verification strip from his Saint Michael medal.
The cylinder opened.
The Black Ledger was not black.
It was red.
Old leather.
Unmarked.
Gabriel stared at it.
“Seventeen years.”
Salvatore did not touch it immediately.
“How many people died for this?”
“Too many.”
“Maybe Father was right to hide it.”
“Father caused half the reasons it needed hiding.”
Salvatore opened the cover.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Judges.
Police commissioners.
Union leaders.
Smuggling routes.
But the final section was different.
Personal records.
Antonio Moretti’s private confessions.
One page detailed Lucia’s death.
Vivienne had been right.
Antonio ordered her car sabotaged.
Salvatore read the line twice.
He felt no satisfaction.
Only shame.
His father had been many things.
Now murderer of a woman he once claimed to love joined the list.
Gabriel turned pages.
“Here.”
The Vescari massacre.
Victor Hale orchestrated the first three attacks.
Used Moretti weapons.
Paid corrupt officers to redirect patrols.
Forged Antonio’s signature.
But a note beneath the entry changed everything.
Victor acted under instruction from E.M.
Salvatore stared.
“E.M.?”
“Elena Moretti?”
Gabriel said it reluctantly.
“No.”
Salvatore refused instantly.
“Could be.”
“No.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
“Because Elena was nineteen during the massacre.”
“She could have—”
“She didn’t.”
Gabriel studied him.
“You still trust her.”
“Yes.”
“After nine years believing she betrayed you?”
“Yes.”
Perhaps that was the truth Salvatore should have understood earlier.
Anger had never erased love.
The last page had been cut from the ledger.
Cleanly removed.
Gabriel stared.
“Vivienne said don’t let Victor read the last page.”
“It’s gone.”
“Then who has it?”
A voice came from the dark church.
“I do.”
Everyone turned.
Bianca stepped from behind a pillar.
Salvatore’s face hardened.
“Mother.”
She held a folded sheet.
“How long have you been here?”
“Long enough.”
Gabriel stared at her.
“You took it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Bianca looked at Matteo, who had somehow appeared at the side entrance.
Salvatore closed his eyes.
“Carmine.”
“I left two men with him.”
Matteo shrugged.
“They were watching the front.”
Salvatore would deal with that later.
Bianca walked toward the boy.
“The last page is about you.”
Matteo stood very still.
“Who is my father?”
Bianca’s eyes filled.
“Before Elena disappeared, she came to me.”
Salvatore listened.
“She was pregnant.”
Matteo swallowed.
“She refused to name the father. She only said if the family knew, the child would become a weapon.”
Salvatore frowned.
“Why?”
Bianca unfolded the page.
“Because his father was Moretti.”
The church went silent.
Gabriel stared.
“Who?”
Bianca looked at Salvatore.
His stomach dropped before she spoke.
“No.”
Matteo looked between them.
Bianca whispered, “Elena said Matteo was your son.”
The world stopped.
Salvatore did not move.
Did not breathe.
He looked at Matteo.
October nineteenth.
Nine years ago.
Elena vanished in February.
No.
Impossible.
Elena had been family.
Not by direct blood—cousin through marriage and adoption ties—but still raised like family.
And more importantly, Salvatore had never—
“No.”
Bianca’s face twisted.
“That’s what she told me.”
“It’s a lie.”
Matteo’s eyes changed.
Salvatore saw the hurt immediately.
“I don’t mean you.”
Matteo stepped backward.
“I mean the claim.”
Bianca shook her head.
“Elena begged me to keep it secret.”
“Mother, I never touched Elena.”
Gabriel stared at Bianca.
“She lied to you.”
“Why?”
Salvatore knew.
“To protect the real father.”
Everyone looked at the ledger.
E.M.
Victor wanted the last page.
Elena hid Matteo.
Somebody poisoned her.
The father mattered.
Gabriel took the sheet from Bianca.
He read.
Then his expression changed.
“This isn’t Antonio’s handwriting.”
Salvatore examined it.
True.
The final page had been inserted years later.
Someone forged it.
“Victor,” Carmine said.
“Or Elena,” Bianca whispered.
Matteo suddenly spoke.
“My mother told me my father died before I was born.”
Salvatore turned.
“Exact words?”
“She said, ‘The man who gave you life died before you ever opened your eyes.’”
Gabriel’s face went pale.
Salvatore saw it.
“What?”
Gabriel did not answer.
“Gabriel.”
His brother looked at Matteo.
Then at Elena’s photograph in Salvatore’s pocket.
Nine years ago.
Gabriel had been officially dead.
Living underground.
Working with Elena.
Salvatore understood before he wanted to.
“You.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
Matteo whispered, “What?”
Salvatore’s voice became flat.
“You’re his father.”
Gabriel looked at the boy.
“I didn’t know.”
Matteo stared.
“No.”
“Elena never told me.”
“No.”
“I swear.”
Matteo backed away.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“My mother said you died.”
“She believed I had to stay dead.”
“You left her.”
“I thought she disappeared because Victor found her.”
“You left her!”
Matteo turned and ran.
Salvatore followed.
Outside, the church steps were empty.
Then tires screamed.
A black van tore away from the curb.
One of Carmine’s guards lay on the pavement.
May you like
Matteo was gone.
Victor had him.
