Chapter 6 - THE FATHER BEHIND THE STORY
Damian did not speak for nearly a minute.
The greenhouse suddenly felt too warm.
Rain tapped softly against the glass roof.
Victor looked at Renato as if he no longer knew him.
“You knew?”
Renato shook his head.
“Not then.”
“Your signature is on the release.”
“I signed whatever Arturo put in front of me that afternoon.”
Damian gave him a hard look.
“That defense sounds familiar.”
Renato accepted it.
“Yes.”
We returned inside.
Beatrice remained wrapped in Ava’s red scarf.
She looked calmer than anyone else in the room.
Damian stood across from his uncle.
“Tell me what my father did.”
Renato stared at Gabriel’s photograph.
Arturo Costa had known Victor kept private cash in R-47.
He knew because Victor was not nearly as secretive as he believed.
Arturo tolerated the side fund.
Many bosses did.
Money kept crews loyal during lean months.
But when Gabriel’s peace negotiations began threatening existing routes, Arturo saw an opportunity.
Not to destroy Gabriel.
To control him.
“He wanted leverage,” Renato said.
“Against his own son?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Damian’s face hardened.
Arturo ordered R-47 moved into Gabriel’s path.
If Gabriel returned from the Bellandi meeting without incident, Arturo intended to confront him with the cash and force him to end unauthorized negotiations.
“He was going to make it look like Gabriel had taken Victor’s money?” Damian asked.
“For a few hours.”
I could not stop myself.
“Your family has a very dangerous relationship with the word temporary.”
Victor actually looked at me.
“So I’m learning.”
Renato continued.
The plan collapsed.
Someone learned about the truck.
The cash vanished.
Then the false account appeared.
Arturo realized he had created the perfect conditions for someone else to frame Gabriel.
“What did he do?” Damian asked.
“Nothing fast enough.”
Gabriel died.
Then Arturo made the worst choice of his life.
He used the existing accusation to stabilize the family.
If he admitted he had moved Victor’s cash into Gabriel’s route, captains would learn he had manipulated his own son.
If he admitted the Bellandi talks were approved, hardliners would turn.
If he accused Victor without proof, six trucking crews could walk.
So he allowed Gabriel to become the explanation.
One dead man.
One simple story.
Everyone else stayed in place.
Damian walked to the window.
“All the times he told me Gabriel chose Bellandi over family.”
Renato’s voice lowered.
“He was talking about himself.”
Damian turned.
“What?”
“Arturo knew Gabriel chose the family.”
Renato looked toward Beatrice.
“Your father never forgave himself.”
Damian’s expression remained cold.
“Regret is cheap when the person you hurt is dead.”
I knew that feeling.
For eight months, I had replayed every hospital day with Ava.
Every extra shift.
Every morning I arrived late because I had worked the diner until two.
All the times she said she was fine because she knew I was tired.
Regret did not change who was missing.
Beatrice reached toward Damian.
He hesitated.
Then went to her.
She touched his face.
“Your father was scared.”
Damian closed his eyes.
“Of what?”
“You becoming Gabriel.”
The answer softened nothing.
Maybe it made things worse.
Arturo had spent the years after Gabriel’s death shaping Damian into the opposite kind of son.
Obedient to hierarchy.
Suspicious of rivals.
Controlled.
Hard.
The very traits everyone in the house now feared.
Damian stepped away.
“Who created the account?”
Renato shook his head.
“I never learned.”
Victor spoke.
“I did.”
Everyone turned.
Damian’s eyes sharpened.
Victor removed something from inside his coat.
A brass warehouse tag.
Number 61.
“I found this six years ago.”
“Where?”
“Old South Pier records.”
“What does it mean?”
“Employee locker.”
Marco took it.
Victor continued.
“The false account used routing information available only to four men.”
“Names.”
“Arturo. Renato. Me.”
He paused.
“And Silvio Costa.”
Damian frowned.
“My cousin.”
“Yes.”
Silvio was fifty-two now.
Head of the family’s warehouse division.
Quiet.
Reliable.
At every Christmas dinner.
At every funeral.
One of the men who had helped carry Arturo’s casket.
“Why would Silvio frame Gabriel?”
Victor shook his head.
“I didn’t know.”
“Why not tell me?”
“Because by the time I found the tag, you were already boss.”
“That should have made it easier.”
Victor looked at him sadly.
“No.”
“You had become exactly what Arturo wanted.”
The sentence landed.
Damian said nothing.
Victor continued.
“I thought if I brought you a suspicion involving your cousin and no proof, you would punish first and investigate later.”
Damian’s face showed nothing.
Which probably meant it hurt.
I understood something then.
Everyone had feared Damian so much that they had helped create the version of him they feared.
Silence feeding silence.
Distrust feeding distrust.
Beatrice’s voice interrupted.
“Silvio hated Gabriel.”
Damian turned.
“Why?”
She stared at the scarf.
“His boy.”
“What boy?”
Renato suddenly looked stricken.
“Oh God.”
Victor’s head lifted.
“What?”
Renato sat down.
“Silvio’s son, Michael.”
Damian frowned.
“He died young.”
“At twenty-two.”
“When?”
“Twelve years ago.”
One year before Gabriel.
Renato looked at Damian.
“Michael was working a Costa warehouse when a Bellandi crew hit the wrong loading yard.”
Damian understood.
“Silvio blamed them.”
“Yes.”
“And Gabriel wanted peace.”
“Yes.”
The motive appeared.
Not money.
Grief.
Silvio believed Gabriel was shaking hands with the family responsible for his son’s death.
It did not make framing him right.
It made it human.
Marco brought Silvio to the estate before midnight.
He walked into the sitting room.
Saw the R-47 stamp.
The locker tag.
Gabriel’s watch.
And Beatrice wearing my sister’s red scarf.
He sat without being asked.
Damian remained standing.
“Did you create the account?”
Silvio looked at him.
His eyes filled.
“Yes.”
No one expected the answer to come that easily.
But his next sentence changed it.
“I did not mean for Gabriel to die.”
Damian’s jaw tightened.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“I wanted Arturo to stop the peace talks.”
“So you made my brother look bought.”
“Yes.”
“Using Victor’s stolen cash.”
“Yes.”
Silvio’s face twisted.
“My son had been dead eleven months. Gabriel sat at Sunday dinner talking about peace with the people I blamed.”
“You blamed.”
Damian repeated the word.
Silvio looked down.
“I know.”
The Bellandi crew responsible for Michael’s death had acted without Elena’s approval and had been removed afterward.
Silvio knew that now.
He had not cared then.
Grief wanted a family-sized target.
Gabriel became one.
“I took enough from R-47 to create the payment trail,” Silvio said.
“What happened to the rest?”
“I never touched it.”
Victor frowned.
“Nearly all of it disappeared.”
Silvio looked confused.
“Not by me.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed.
Then someone had used Silvio’s frame to steal Victor’s money.
Another layer.
Another betrayer.
Marco’s phone vibrated.
He looked down.
Then at Damian.
“What?”
“Pier Nineteen.”
Marco’s face hardened.
“Three trucking crews just stopped work.”
Victor stood.
“Whose?”
“Yours.”
Victor swore.
Marco continued.
“And two union locals are calling an emergency vote tomorrow.”
Damian looked toward Silvio.
“You told someone we were reopening Gabriel’s death?”
Silvio shook his head.
“No.”
Victor’s expression changed.
“I did.”
Damian stared.
“To who?”
“My son.”
Carlo Serrano.
Victor looked suddenly afraid.
“He asked why you summoned me.”
Damian’s voice went cold.
“What did you tell him?”
“That Gabriel wasn’t the traitor.”
Marco’s phone vibrated again.
He read the message.
Then looked up.
“Carlo just called six captains together.”
Victor closed his eyes.
Damian asked the only question that mattered.
“Why?”
May you like
Marco answered.
“Because Carlo says Mara Bennett is manipulating Beatrice to destroy the family.”
