Chapter 6 - THE LIE THAT SAVED HER
Roman did not release Matteo.
“What war?”
“The one you nearly authorized tonight.”
Roman’s grip tightened.
Matteo remained still.
“Ask Anthony who benefits if Moretti and Keane men start killing each other across Colorado.”
“Keane.”
“No.”
Matteo looked directly into his eyes.
“The people waiting to buy what is left afterward.”
Roman released him.
Not out of trust.
Because Norah was watching.
Because Luca and Rose were ten feet away.
Because Roman had spent one year being the man everyone expected to strike first.
He wanted, for once, to disappoint them.
“Talk.”
Matteo adjusted his coat.
“The Denver conflict is real. Keane wants your freight routes.”
“I know.”
“What you don’t know is that I’ve been negotiating with Patrick Keane for six months.”
Roman’s expression went dead.
Anthony muttered something in Italian that was not a prayer.
Matteo continued.
“He wants an exit from the war.”
“He shot my lieutenant.”
“I don’t believe he ordered it.”
Roman held up Nico’s medal.
“And this?”
“Mine.”
Norah stepped closer.
“You took it from Nico’s coffin.”
Matteo closed his eyes briefly.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because his mother was already dead, and I couldn’t bear the thought of burying the last thing she gave him.”
No one spoke.
The answer was heartbreakingly ordinary.
Matteo reached for the medal.
Roman did not give it to him.
“How did a shooter get it?”
“It disappeared from my desk two weeks ago.”
“And you told nobody?”
“I thought I had misplaced it.”
“You don’t misplace your dead son.”
Matteo accepted the blow.
“No.”
Norah looked at him.
“You wrote the note on my photograph.”
Matteo’s gaze shifted toward her.
“I arranged the meeting.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
A long pause.
Then Matteo said, “No.”
Roman studied him.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to decide after you hear everything.”
Matteo pulled a chair away from the wall and sat slowly.
For the first time Roman noticed how old he looked.
“Nico died because men wanted to hurt your father.”
His voice stayed even.
“He wasn’t involved in the business. He taught high-school history. He was bringing me dinner.”
Roman remembered.
Everyone remembered.
“The bomb was meant for Giuseppe. Nico parked beside the wrong car.”
Matteo looked at the twins.
“After that, I stopped believing there was such a thing as keeping the business separate from family.”
Norah hugged Rose tighter.
Matteo continued.
“When Elena told me you were pregnant, I panicked.”
Roman looked at him.
“My mother told you.”
“She called me after Norah called her.”
“So you requested the security report.”
“Yes.”
“You took the photograph.”
“Yes.”
Norah’s face tightened.
Matteo stood.
“I had been hearing whispers about succession. Men discussing Roman’s future children like they were business assets.”
“So you scared me into running.”
“I wanted you gone before anyone else knew.”
“You told me Roman knew.”
Matteo hesitated.
Norah’s eyes filled.
“You told me he knew I was pregnant and had chosen the organization.”
“I was wrong to say that.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I lied.”
The word landed heavily.
Roman did not move.
Norah looked as though Matteo had slapped her.
“For one year,” she whispered, “I believed my husband knew.”
“I know.”
“I gave birth believing he had decided we were safer without him.”
Matteo’s voice cracked.
“I know.”
“You watched him search for me.”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
“Yes.”
Norah stepped away.
Roman wanted to hate Matteo cleanly.
It would have been easier.
But he could see Nico’s coffin again.
Could see Matteo standing beside it with hands trembling.
A grieving father had made a monstrous choice because he believed he was preventing another funeral.
That did not make the choice less monstrous.
It only made it human.
Roman said, “Why Denver?”
Matteo exhaled.
“Elena wrote Norah three weeks ago.”
“I know.”
“She had begun to believe keeping you apart was doing more harm than good.”
Norah turned sharply.
“She never told me that.”
“She planned to.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
“At St. Agnes?”
“Yes.”
“You knew Norah was coming?”
“I knew Elena invited her if she felt unsafe. I did not know Norah had accepted until yesterday.”
“The pickup sheet was printed yesterday.”
“Elena called the retreat office.”
Roman stared at him.
“And ‘bring them home’?”
Matteo looked ashamed.
“That was mine.”
Norah laughed bitterly.
“You don’t get to call someplace home after helping take my home away.”
Matteo lowered his head.
“No.”
Roman returned to the larger problem.
“Why did somebody shoot Anthony today?”
Matteo looked at him.
“Because my negotiations with Keane were about to become public.”
“What agreement?”
“You surrender the Denver freight routes.”
Roman’s face hardened.
“Those routes generate twenty million a year.”
“Yes.”
“And what does Keane give me?”
“Peace.”
Roman almost laughed.
Matteo did not.
“You think twenty million is expensive? Try counting coffins.”
Anthony spoke from the bed.
“Boss.”
Roman glanced at him.
“He’s right about one thing.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
Anthony continued.
“Keane could’ve finished me. They shot once and left.”
Matteo nodded.
“That was not Patrick’s style.”
“Then whose?”
“I don’t know.”
Roman hated those three words.
His phone vibrated.
Not a mysterious number.
Carlo.
Roman looked at the screen.
Carlo had forwarded an internal operations update.
Three Moretti crews in Denver had received orders to move despite Roman’s stand-down.
Roman read the authorization code.
His own.
Copied perfectly.
Someone was issuing commands in his name.
Matteo saw his expression.
“What?”
Roman showed him.
Matteo swore.
Norah said, “Can you stop them?”
Roman was already typing.
“I can try.”
“No.”
Matteo stood.
“If the false orders are already in the field, they won’t trust contradictory messages.”
“Then I’ll go there.”
Norah grabbed Roman’s wrist.
“You’re not leaving.”
He looked at her.
“My men—”
“Your children.”
The two words stopped him.
Norah’s voice trembled.
“Every time somebody bleeds, you run toward the blood and call it responsibility.”
Roman stared at her hand around his wrist.
“You asked me why I left.”
She looked into his eyes.
“This is why.”
The hospital room became silent.
Roman had a choice.
For once, the choice was visible.
He could feel everyone watching.
Anthony.
Matteo.
Norah.
Even himself.
Roman slowly put his phone down.
“Carlo can stop the crews.”
Matteo blinked.
“You trust him?”
“With this.”
Norah released Roman’s wrist.
It was not forgiveness.
But it was the first time she had touched him voluntarily all night.
Matteo picked up his coat.
“We need to move Norah and the babies before whoever stole my medal realizes the hospital is compromised.”
“Where?”
“St. Agnes.”
Roman shook his head.
“No.”
Matteo looked toward the window.
Snow hammered the glass.
“Then you need another place not connected to you.”
A woman’s voice came from the hallway.
“There isn’t one.”
Roman turned.
Elena Moretti stood in the doorway.
Sixty-three.
Elegant even after midnight.
Snow melted across the shoulders of her black coat.
Her eyes went directly to the babies.
Then to her son.
“Roman.”
His face became stone.
“You knew where my wife was.”
Elena looked at Norah.
Then back at him.
“Yes.”
Roman’s voice dropped.
“You have thirty seconds to tell me why I shouldn’t walk away from you forever.”
Elena’s eyes filled.
“Because Matteo is not the person who wrote the warning on that photograph.”
Norah went still.
Roman looked at his mother.
May you like
Elena removed her gloves.
“I know who wrote it.”
