Chapter 6 - The Betrayal Behind the DoorRoman had his phone out before I finished reading the sentence.
Vincent didn’t answer.
Neither did any of the guards at the house.
Roman called again.
Nothing.
His face became terrifyingly calm.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means we go back now.”
The private jet took off eighteen minutes later.
Roman spent the entire flight making calls.
No shouting.
No panic.
That somehow frightened me more.
Every instruction was brief.
“Check the north gate.”
“Find the vehicle.”
“Call the school.”
“Lock down the hospital.”
Then silence.
I sat across from him holding my mother’s letter.
“What if she was wrong?”
Roman looked at me.
“My mother trusted people too,” he said.
“And?”
“She died for it.”
I didn’t ask more.
Not then.
Halfway to Chicago, one of Roman’s men approached.
“We have camera footage.”
Roman stood.
The video appeared on a tablet.
Vincent was visible in the estate hallway at 7:14 p.m.
Leo ran toward him.
Vincent crouched.
Said something.
Then took Leo’s hand.
They walked out together.
No struggle.
No alarm.
Leo trusted him.
My stomach turned.
A black vehicle left three minutes later.
“License plate?” Roman asked.
“False.”
“Tracking?”
“Disabled.”
Roman sat down slowly.
For the first time since I had met him, he looked powerless.
I remembered Leo gripping his dinosaur.
Asking if I was staying.
Calling Roman Papa.
I reached across the aisle.
My hand covered Roman’s.
He looked down at it.
Then at me.
“We’ll find him.”
His voice was barely audible.
“If Vincent hurts him—”
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
I tightened my hand.
“But Leo knows Vincent. Vincent had dozens of opportunities to hurt him before tonight.”
Roman stared at me.
“He took him for leverage.”
“That’s what I think.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“Then we still find him.”
Roman turned his hand beneath mine.
For several seconds our fingers stayed linked.
Neither of us acknowledged it.
The moment we landed, Roman received a message.
A video.
Leo sat on a chair inside an unfamiliar room.
He wasn’t visibly hurt.
Vincent stood beside him.
My relief collided with rage.
Vincent looked into the camera.
“Roman, listen carefully.”
Leo stared at the floor.
“I am sorry.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
Vincent continued.
“Bring the drives Claire found to the old Lakeside Theater at midnight. Claire comes with you. Nobody else.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Roman glanced at me.
The video continued.
“If Salvatore discovers I sent this message, Leo dies. Do exactly what I say.”
Then something strange happened.
Vincent touched his left ear twice.
Roman froze.
The video ended.
“What was that?”
Roman replayed it.
Vincent touched his ear again.
“He’s signaling.”
“What?”
“When I was a kid, Vincent taught me field signals.”
“So he’s not betraying you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does that signal mean?”
Roman stared at the frozen image.
“Listening device.”
Someone was listening while Vincent recorded.
“He wanted you to know he was being watched.”
“Yes.”
“So Mom was wrong?”
Roman looked at the letter.
“Maybe not.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Your mother wrote never trust Vincent. She didn’t say Vincent worked for Salvatore.”
I stared at him.
“You’re splitting hairs.”
“No. Your mother was precise.”
I read the line again.
Never trust Vincent Morelli.
Maybe she had meant something else.
At midnight Roman and I entered the abandoned Lakeside Theater.
I carried a case containing copies of the drives.
Roman carried no visible weapon.
That did not mean he was unarmed.
The theater had been closed for fifteen years.
Dust covered the faded red seats.
A single spotlight illuminated the stage.
Leo sat beneath it.
Vincent stood behind him.
Salvatore DeLuca emerged from the darkness.
He was older than Roman by nearly thirty years.
Same eyes.
Same rigid jaw.
But where Roman’s expression could soften, Salvatore’s seemed permanently empty.
“My nephew.”
Roman stopped.
“Release Leo.”
“In time.”
Salvatore looked at me.
“Claire Bennett.”
“You murdered my mother.”
He smiled.
“Your father has always been dramatic.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
The directness shocked me.
No excuses.
No denial.
“Why?”
“She took something belonging to me.”
“The evidence?”
“My legacy.”
Roman’s voice hardened.
“You poisoned a woman because she had records?”
Salvatore laughed softly.
“Don’t pretend outrage suits you, Roman. Your hands are hardly clean.”
“I never killed civilians.”
“Such delicate morality.”
“I never killed children.”
Salvatore’s smile faded.
“No. That weakness came from your mother.”
Roman took one step forward.
Vincent shook his head slightly.
Listening device.
Trap.
I forced myself to look around.
Old balcony.
Curtains.
Lighting rig.
Emergency doors.
Leo’s hands were behind the chair, but not bound.
Interesting.
“Where is the pendant?” Salvatore asked.
“You have it,” I said.
“I have the casing.”
My pulse jumped.
So Dad had hidden something else inside.
“You broke it?”
“Of course.”
“Then you should have what you need.”
Salvatore’s expression sharpened.
“There was nothing inside.”
I understood.
Dad lied.
Or moved it.
Salvatore approached.
“Where is the capsule?”
“I don’t know.”
He slapped me.
Roman moved instantly.
Three red laser dots appeared on his chest.
He stopped.
Leo screamed, “Papa!”
Roman’s eyes never left Salvatore.
“If you touch her again—”
“What?”
Salvatore smiled.
“What will you do?”
Roman said nothing.
“Interesting.”
Salvatore looked from him to me.
“Four days ago, she was a waitress.”
“She still is,” I said.
Salvatore laughed.
Roman didn’t.
“You think this is romance?” Salvatore asked me. “Roman doesn’t love. Roman possesses.”
Roman’s expression gave nothing away.
Salvatore leaned closer.
“You saved his son, so now he believes he owes you. When the debt is paid, you’ll discover what everyone eventually discovers.”
“What?”
“He chooses power.”
I looked at Roman.
Maybe Salvatore expected uncertainty.
Instead I remembered my mother’s words.
Watch what people protect when it costs them something.
“Then make him choose.”
Salvatore’s brows lifted.
I stepped toward Leo.
“Give Roman the boy and keep me.”
“No,” Roman said immediately.
I ignored him.
“You want Bennett blood.”
“Claire.”
“You don’t need Leo.”
Roman’s voice became dangerous.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“My choice.”
“Absolutely not.”
Salvatore smiled.
“There. Possession.”
“No,” I said quietly. “Fear.”
Roman stared at me.
I understood then.
This man who frightened an entire city was terrified of losing anyone he allowed himself to love.
Leo.
Maybe me.
Perhaps that scared him more than bullets.
Vincent suddenly dropped to the floor.
“NOW!”
Leo dove sideways.
The theater erupted.
Roman lunged for me.
Gunfire cracked from the balcony.
But Roman’s men weren’t outside.
They were already inside.
Hidden among the old stage crew corridors.
Roman pulled me behind a steel support.
Vincent grabbed Leo.
Salvatore ran backstage.
Roman started after him.
I grabbed his jacket.
“Leo!”
That stopped him.
One second.
Only one.
But he turned back toward his son.
He chose Leo over revenge.
My mother had been right.
Watch what people protect.
Roman ran to Leo.
Salvatore escaped.
Again.
Afterward, Vincent sat in the lobby with a bruise forming across his face.
Roman stood over him.
“My mother’s letter says never trust you.”
Vincent sighed.
“She was right.”
“What does that mean?” I demanded.
Vincent reached into his jacket slowly.
He removed a small metal capsule.
My breath caught.
“The pendant.”
He placed it in my palm.
“Your father gave it to me nineteen years ago.”
I stared at him.
“You had it?”
“The one you wore was a decoy.”
“Why?”
“Because Daniel knew Salvatore would eventually come after you.”
Roman looked furious.
“You lied to me for twenty years.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your father ordered me to.”
Roman stepped closer.
“My father?”
Vincent nodded.
“Antonio discovered what Salvatore had done. He wanted to expose his brother.”
“But Antonio died before he could.”
Vincent’s expression became heavy.
“No, Roman.”
Roman stopped.
Vincent looked directly at him.
“Your father didn’t die of a heart attack.”
The theater seemed to grow colder.
“Salvatore killed him too.”
Roman said nothing.
Vincent continued.
“And I helped cover it up.”
Roman hit him.
One punch.
Vincent fell.
Leo screamed.
Roman immediately stepped back.
I moved between them.
“Why?” I demanded.
Vincent wiped blood from his mouth.
“Because Salvatore had Roman’s mother.”
Roman froze.
Vincent whispered:
“She was alive.”
Roman’s face emptied.
“What did you say?”
“Your mother survived the car bombing.”
“No.”
“I helped hide her.”
Roman looked ready to collapse.
“Where is she?”
Vincent met his eyes.
“I don’t know.”
Then the theater lights died.
A phone began ringing on the stage.
We all stared at it.
Roman answered.
Salvatore’s voice filled the darkness.
“You want your mother, nephew?”
Roman gripped the phone.
“Where is she?”
“Bring Claire and the real capsule.”
A pause.
“Tomorrow.”
May you like
The call ended.
And once again, the price of finding one parent was going to be another person’s life.
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