Chapter 15 - The Guard at the Gate
Salvatore looked at Carmine.
Carmine looked back.
For once, the older guard had no joke.
Maria continued through the phone.
“Ask him where he was born.”
Salvatore did.
Carmine frowned.
“Brooklyn.”
“Hospital?”
“St. Vincent’s.”
Maria said loud enough for both to hear:
“St. Vincent’s maternity ward closed five years before your birth.”
Carmine’s face emptied.
“That’s impossible.”
“No,” Maria said. “Your birth certificate is.”
Salvatore put the call on speaker.
Maria explained.
Carmine’s biological mother had been a witness scheduled to testify against Antonio.
Her child vanished from a hospital nursery.
She withdrew her testimony.
The infant was placed with a family loyal to the Morettis.
Carmine.
For fifty-six years, he had unknowingly guarded the family that stole him.
Carmine sat down.
No one had ever seen him sit during a crisis.
“I had parents.”
“You had people who raised you,” Maria said.
“They were my parents.”
“Yes.”
His voice sharpened.
“Don’t take them from me too.”
Maria went quiet.
Salvatore understood.
Biology did not erase choosing.
He had said the same thing to Matteo.
Carmine looked toward him.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Vittorio?”
“Not until today,” Vittorio said from the doorway.
Carmine laughed once.
“Everybody has secrets but the gate guard.”
Salvatore ended the call.
Carmine stood.
“I need air.”
“Take it.”
“I’m still working.”
“Carmine.”
“What?”
“You’re allowed to stop.”
Carmine looked almost offended.
“Don’t start treating me like I have feelings.”
He left.
Elena watched him go.
“Is he okay?”
“No.”
“Will he be?”
Salvatore looked toward the door.
“Yes.”
He needed that to be true.
The vault appointment was set for ten the next morning.
Maria agreed to bring Vale.
Salvatore distrusted the arrangement.
So did everyone else.
At 9:45, they entered the Manhattan bank through a private underground garage.
Salvatore.
Elena.
Carmine.
Maria.
Gabriel Vale.
And Isabella, who insisted someone needed to represent the least dysfunctional family.
The vault required Vale’s thumbprint and Antonio’s death-authorized heir verification.
Salvatore qualified.
The door opened.
Inside sat three metal boxes.
Box one contained records of bribes.
Box two contained adoption files.
Hundreds.
Carmine stared at the names.
Children taken from witnesses.
Rivals.
Women who tried to leave.
Some had been given to loving families.
Others had vanished completely.
Then box three opened.
Empty.
Elena whispered:
“No.”
A note lay inside.
THANK YOU FOR FINDING IT FOR ME.
A screen mounted on the vault wall flickered on.
Alexander Crane appeared.
Live.
“Hello, family.”
Salvatore looked for cameras.
Crane smiled.
“The archive you wanted was moved twenty years ago.”
Vale swore.
“You knew?”
“Of course.”
“Where?”
Crane’s smile widened.
“Inside the one place no one would search.”
The feed changed.
Moretti House.
The burned chapel.
Then beneath it, thermal imaging revealed a hidden room.
Crane continued.
“Antonio built a second vault below your family chapel.”
Salvatore realized.
“The room behind the saints.”
Matteo had led them near it.
But not all the way.
“The black ledger was the first decoy,” Crane said. “The Manhattan vault was the second.”
Elena whispered:
“Then what’s below the chapel?”
“Everything.”
Crane leaned closer.
“And by the time you return, Luca will have it.”
The screen went dark.
Salvatore called the estate.
No answer.
They drove like hell.
When they arrived, the chapel floor had been blasted open.
The hidden underground room was empty.
No archive.
No Luca.
Only one thing remained.
A child’s drawing.
Matteo’s.
Two stick figures.
A tall man.
A small boy.
Holding hands.
Underneath, in shaky letters, Matteo had written:
I THINK I WANT SALVATORE TO BE MY DAD.
Elena touched the paper.
“He made this yesterday.”
Salvatore swallowed.
Carmine looked around.
“Why would Luca leave it?”
Salvatore’s gaze hardened.
“He didn’t.”
“What?”
“Matteo did.”
“You think Matteo was here?”
Salvatore turned toward the broken tunnel.
“He’s helping us.”
Then they heard a faint sound from beneath the rubble.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
A tracking transmitter.
May you like
Hidden under the drawing.
Matteo had left them a trail.
