Chapter 3 - THE BLACK COAT
Gabriel Rossi arrived in Matteo’s room twelve minutes later.
Vincent had not summoned him.
He had simply walked downstairs, found his younger brother asleep in the east guest suite after a late meeting, and said four words.
“We need to talk.”
Gabriel took one look at Vincent’s face and followed.
Now he stood beside the foot of Matteo’s bed wearing dark trousers and a wrinkled white shirt.
“What happened?”
Vincent pointed toward the closet.
“Do you remember that coat?”
Gabriel looked.
His expression changed so slightly most people would have missed it.
Vincent did not.
“Yes.”
Matteo’s breathing quickened.
Clara touched his hand.
Gabriel noticed.
Then he looked at his nephew.
“What did you remember?”
“Answer me first,” Vincent said.
Gabriel looked back at him.
“About what?”
“Fourteen months ago.”
Silence.
Vincent’s anger arrived cold.
“That night. Were you wearing my coat?”
Gabriel did not answer quickly enough.
Vincent crossed the room.
Clara rose immediately.
“Vincent.”
He stopped.
Not because she frightened him.
Because Matteo had grabbed his blankets with both fists.
Vincent saw it.
He stepped backward.
Gabriel closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
One word.
Enough to break fourteen months open.
Vincent stared at his brother.
“Why?”
“It was raining.”
“Try again.”
Gabriel’s jaw worked.
“Vincent—”
“My eight-year-old son remembers you wearing my coat on the night he fell down a staircase and lost the use of his legs.”
Matteo flinched.
Clara gave Vincent a warning look.
He lowered his voice.
“Tell me why.”
Gabriel looked older than his thirty-seven years.
“I was taking him out of the house.”
Vincent stared at him.
Matteo shut his eyes.
Clara whispered, “Matteo?”
“I knew.”
Gabriel moved toward the bed.
Matteo recoiled.
Gabriel stopped immediately.
His face tightened.
“That’s why you’ve barely looked at me since the accident.”
Matteo turned his head away.
Vincent’s voice went flat.
“Where were you taking him?”
“A safe house near Stamford.”
Vincent almost laughed.
There was no humor in it.
“You attempted to remove my son from my home without telling me?”
“Not my idea.”
“Whose?”
Gabriel glanced toward Matteo.
Vincent saw the answer before hearing it.
“No.”
Gabriel said nothing.
Vincent shook his head.
“No.”
“Mom asked me.”
Teresa Rossi.
Their mother.
Matteo’s grandmother.
The woman who had practically lived at Vincent’s bedside during the first week after the accident.
The woman who had told him a hundred times that some tragedies had no villain.
Vincent’s stomach turned.
“Why?”
Gabriel rubbed his face.
“Because she thought Matteo was in danger.”
“From whom?”
“She didn’t know.”
“That makes no sense.”
“There was a photograph.”
Clara looked up.
Vincent noticed.
“What photograph?”
Gabriel’s eyes went to his brother.
“A picture of Matteo outside St. Augustine’s school. Taken from across the street.”
Vincent remembered his son attending the school before the accident.
He remembered security.
Two vehicles every morning.
Three men rotating.
“How did I never see it?”
“Mom intercepted it.”
“Intercepted where?”
“It was left beneath her windshield wiper.”
Vincent’s anger rose.
“You hid a threat involving my child?”
Gabriel’s voice sharpened.
“Because you would have started a war before knowing whether there was one.”
The brothers stared at each other.
For the first time that night, Gabriel looked angry too.
“Mom begged you for months to move Matteo somewhere quieter.”
“That was not her decision.”
“No. Everything was your decision.”
The words landed harder than Vincent expected.
Gabriel stepped closer.
“You decided this house was secure. You decided twelve guards were safer than a normal street. You decided your enemies were manageable because they were afraid of you.”
Vincent’s face became expressionless.
“And you decided kidnapping my son was the better solution?”
Gabriel’s anger disappeared.
“No.”
His voice broke slightly.
“I decided one night somewhere else was better than waking up to find out Mom had been right.”
Matteo whispered, “You lied to me.”
Everyone turned.
Gabriel looked stricken.
“What did I say?”
Matteo’s eyes filled.
“You said Dad wanted me to go.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
Vincent felt something inside him tear.
“I told you your dad wanted you somewhere safe.”
“No.”
“You were upset. You wouldn’t put on your shoes.”
“You said he wanted me somewhere else.”
Gabriel took a breath.
“Maybe I did.”
Matteo stared at him.
“Because I was bad.”
“No.”
“You said Dad couldn’t do this anymore.”
Vincent turned sharply toward Gabriel.
Gabriel looked ashamed.
“I was talking about the security situation.”
“He was seven.”
“I know.”
“Did he?”
Gabriel did not answer.
That was answer enough.
Matteo pulled the blanket higher.
“I thought Dad sent me away.”
Vincent sat beside him.
“Look at me.”
Matteo refused.
“Matteo.”
Slowly, the boy turned.
Vincent’s voice was quiet.
“I have made mistakes.”
Gabriel looked at him.
So did Clara.
Vincent continued.
“But there has never been a day when I wanted you gone.”
Matteo’s mouth trembled.
“Even now?”
The question destroyed him.
“Especially now.”
Matteo blinked.
Vincent touched his hand but did not grab it.
His son allowed the contact.
Gabriel turned away.
Clara looked down, giving them privacy without leaving.
After a moment, Vincent asked, “How did he fall?”
Gabriel’s shoulders stiffened.
“We were on the west stairs.”
“You told everyone you found him there.”
“I did.”
“You were with him.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Gabriel stared at the wall.
“He changed his mind.”
“About leaving?”
“Yes.”
“He started going back up.”
Gabriel swallowed.
“I went after him.”
Matteo whispered, “I ran.”
Gabriel nodded.
“You were crying.”
“You grabbed me.”
“To stop you from falling.”
“You grabbed me.”
“I caught your coat.”
Matteo’s face twisted.
“No.”
Gabriel looked confused.
Clara leaned closer.
“What do you remember?”
Matteo’s breathing grew shallow.
Clara touched the back of his hand.
“Not the whole thing. Just one piece.”
Matteo stared toward the doorway.
Then his eyes widened.
“It wasn’t Uncle Gabriel.”
Vincent frowned.
“What wasn’t?”
“The person I was scared of.”
Gabriel turned.
Matteo looked toward the hallway as though expecting someone to appear.
“I saw Grandma.”
No one spoke.
Matteo swallowed.
“She was at the top.”
Gabriel went pale.
Vincent stood.
“What was she doing?”
May you like
Matteo’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“She made the bad man.”
