Chương 5 - WHAT MY FATHER KNEWMy father had kept a safe-deposit box.
I discovered that because Matteo apparently had people who could find information faster than government agencies.
“I’m not asking how you got this.”
“Good.”
“That was not admiration.”
“I know.”
The box had remained untouched at Lakeshore Community Bank since my father died eight years earlier.
I was listed as beneficiary.
Inside were three things.
A pocket watch.
A birth certificate.
And a cassette tape.
Sofia stared at it.
“What century is this?”
I smiled despite myself.
“Your uncle probably has a cassette player in one of his museums.”
Matteo frowned.
“I’m thirty-eight.”
“Exactly.”
We found a player at Mr. Adler’s shop.
Of course he had one.
My father’s voice filled the tiny back room.
Hearing him nearly broke me.
“Lena, if you’re listening to this, then something happened that I spent most of my life hoping never would.”
I covered my mouth.
Matteo sat beside me.
Not touching.
Just there.
My father continued.
“My name is Anthony Moretti. Rosa Moretti raised me as her own son after my biological mother, Lucia, disappeared.”
Sofia whispered, “Rosa raised him?”
The letter had implied Lucia escaped with him.
Apparently that hadn’t lasted.
Dad explained.
Lucia fled Chicago.
For almost two years, she lived under false names.
Then she became ill.
Cancer.
By 1979, she knew she would die.
She returned Anthony to Rosa.
And Rosa became his mother in every way that mattered.
“My biological father was Carlo Vescari,” Dad said on the tape. “I learned that when I was thirty-eight.”
The same age Matteo was now.
Dad had confronted Vittorio.
But he hadn’t wanted money.
He wanted protection.
Dante had already approached him.
Dante had discovered rumors that Carlo’s ownership documents survived.
He believed they were hidden at Bellflower.
“He offered to buy the bakery,” Dad said. “When I refused, the offers became threats.”
My hands clenched.
That explained everything.
Vittorio had intervened.
In exchange for Anthony surrendering any claim against the Vescari estate, Vittorio promised to keep Dante away.
But Vittorio’s control weakened as he aged.
Dante resumed the purchase attempts after Dad died.
Dad’s final words were for me.
“If you ever find the ledger, Lena, don’t let anyone convince you it’s about money. Your grandmother protected those papers because they proved Carlo wasn’t the traitor history made him out to be. He tried to get his family out of crime. He wanted legitimate businesses. He wanted a life with Lucia and their child. The ledger proves where the money came from and who controlled it.”
The tape clicked.
Then stopped.
I sat motionless.
My father had known.
For decades.
He had carried it alone.
I wanted to be angry.
Instead, I understood him.
He had wanted Bellflower to be a bakery.
Not a monument to dead men.
Not disputed property.
Not evidence.
Just a bakery.
Matteo broke the silence.
“Dante can’t let that ledger become public.”
“Why?”
“Because half his reputation depends on the story that Carlo betrayed the family and Vittorio saved it.”
“So?”
“So if Carlo was actually trying to legalize the company, Dante’s entire claim to being the guardian of family tradition collapses.”
I looked at him.
“That sounds like ego.”
“It is.”
“People don’t shoot through windows over ego.”
Matteo met my eyes.
“You’ve never met my uncle.”
Unfortunately, that changed the next morning.
Dante Vescari walked into Bellflower alone.
No guards.
No warning.
He was sixty, silver-haired, elegant, and smiling.
“You must be Lena.”
I stood behind the counter.
“We’re out of cannoli.”
“I didn’t come for cannoli.”
“Then we’re closed.”
“It says seven on the door.”
“I changed it emotionally.”
His smile widened.
“You really are Anthony’s daughter.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“You knew him.”
“Yes.”
“He didn’t like you.”
“That was mutual.”
I wanted to throw something.
I had promised Matteo I would stop throwing food at Vescari men.
Technically, a rolling pin was not food.
Dante noticed where I was looking.
“I come in peace.”
“People who say that usually don’t.”
He placed an envelope on the counter.
Inside was a cashier’s check.
Five million dollars.
I stared at it.
“For what?”
“The building.”
“No.”
“Ten.”
“No.”
“Twenty.”
“You just doubled five twice.”
“I’m motivated.”
“Still no.”
His smile disappeared.
“Your father understood compromise.”
“My father thought you were dangerous.”
“He was right.”
The casualness chilled me.
Dante leaned closer.
“Give me the ledger.”
“No.”
“You don’t know what you’re holding.”
“Evidence?”
“History.”
“Same thing, with better lawyers.”
He laughed softly.
Then his eyes shifted to the framed photograph.
“You look like Lucia.”
I hated how personal that felt.
“Did you know her?”
“I was a child.”
“But?”
“I remember everyone whispering after she disappeared.”
He leaned against the counter.
“My father despised Carlo. My uncle Vittorio feared him. And Lucia destroyed them both without firing a bullet.”
“She didn’t destroy anyone.”
“In families like ours, love can be more expensive than war.”
“Fortunately, I’m not part of your family.”
Dante glanced at me.
“Oh, Lena.”
He smiled.
“You’re more Vescari than Matteo.”
The bell rang.
Matteo walked in.
Dante turned.
The air changed instantly.
“Nephew.”
“Leave.”
“We’re talking.”
“No. You’re threatening her.”
Dante’s smile remained.
“You always did mistake possession for protection.”
Matteo stepped forward.
“I said leave.”
Dante buttoned his coat.
Before walking out, he looked at me.
“Twenty million.”
I tore the cashier’s check in half.
Then again.
“Try the coffee shop across the street.”
Dante stared.
Then laughed.
“Rosa truly did raise all of you.”
When he disappeared through the door, Matteo looked at me.
“You tore up a five-million-dollar check.”
“It was dramatic.”
“It was a cashier’s check.”
“So he can cancel it.”
“That is not the point.”
“It felt good.”
He rubbed his forehead.
I smiled.
Then I noticed something outside.
A man across the street.
Camera.
Long lens.
Pointed directly at us.
“Matteo.”
He turned.
The photographer ran.
One of Matteo’s guards chased him.
He escaped into a car.
An hour later, photographs of Matteo and me appeared online.
MAFIA HEIR’S MYSTERY GIRLFRIEND.
Another headline followed.
VESCARI BOSS HIDES SECRET ROMANCE WITH BAKER.
I turned my phone toward Matteo.
“You.”
He wisely took one step backward.
“Lena.”
“You started this.”
“Technically Bianca did.”
I grabbed a bag of powdered sugar.
“Do not.”
“You told people I was your girlfriend.”
“It was an emergency.”
“So is this.”
Sofia walked in just as I threw it.
Matteo ducked.
The bag sailed past him and exploded against the door.
Sofia stared.
Then she slowly pulled out her phone.
“This family is getting significantly more entertaining.”
Matteo glared at her.
“Put it away.”
She did.
But she was smiling.
So was I.
And to my surprise, eventually Matteo was too.
That was the moment everything became more dangerous.
May you like
Because somewhere between the threats, the secrets, and the flour, I had stopped seeing Matteo Vescari as a problem.
I had started trusting him.
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