Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN WHO WATCHED HER SON FROM SIX BLOCKS AWAY
The address belonged to a small apartment above a bakery.
No guards.
No black SUVs.
No obvious surveillance.
At 12:24 a.m., Matteo stood across the street staring at the second-floor window.
Light on.
Anthony beside him.
Carlo had insisted on coming despite his leg brace.
Matteo allowed it.
Barely.
“This could be old.”
Carlo said.
“Four-month-old photograph.”
“Address may be newer.”
“Or trap.”
“Yes.”
Matteo looked at the bakery.
His wife.
Maybe.
Six blocks from Ben.
He felt anger.
Relief.
Betrayal.
Love.
All fighting for the same space.
Anthony said:
“We clear first.”
Matteo nodded.
He had learned.
Two men checked the rear.
One checked stairs.
No threat.
Matteo climbed.
Door 2B.
He knocked.
Nothing.
Again.
Then a woman’s voice:
“Who?”
His heart stopped.
Angela.
He knew that voice.
Seven months of imagining it.
Funeral.
Dreams.
Now one word.
Alive.
“Angela.”
Silence.
Lock turned.
Door opened.
She stood there.
Thinner.
Hair shorter.
Scar near one eyebrow.
But Angela.
His wife.
Matteo forgot every prepared sentence.
She covered her mouth.
“Matteo.”
He stared.
“You’re alive.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Yes.”
He almost reached for her.
Stopped.
She saw.
Then crossed the distance herself.
They held each other.
For maybe ten seconds.
Maybe a year.
Then Matteo pulled away.
“Ben thinks you’re dead.”
Angela’s face broke.
“I know.”
“You watched him?”
Her eyes lowered.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“From a distance.”
“How many times?”
“Too many.”
His anger returned.
“You were six blocks away.”
“Sometimes.”
“Seven months.”
“I know.”
“He stopped talking.”
Angela closed her eyes.
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
Matteo stepped back.
“How?”
“I had someone checking.”
“Who?”
“Clara.”
Silence.
Matteo stared.
“What?”
Angela’s face changed.
Too late.
“Clara Reyes.”
Matteo felt cold.
“No.”
Angela said:
“She didn’t know everything.”
“What did she know?”
“That I was alive.”
The betrayal landed clean.
Clara.
The woman he had begun trusting.
The woman who sat with Ben at two in the morning.
The woman who told him not to rush to conclusions.
She had known.
Matteo laughed bitterly.
Of course.
Another one.
“Since when?”
Angela swallowed.
“Before she started working for you.”
His face hardened.
“You sent her.”
“Yes.”
Matteo turned away.
Carlo cursed softly from the hallway.
Anthony looked down.
Angela continued:
“I needed someone near Ben.”
“You already had staff.”
“I trusted none of them.”
“So you planted a maid in my house.”
“Yes.”
Matteo almost laughed.
Everyone had apparently decided his home was a chessboard.
“Why Clara?”
“Her mother worked with my foundation.”
“Does Clara know Gallo?”
“No.”
“Victoria?”
“No.”
“Did she know why you stayed away?”
“Some.”
“How much?”
“That Gallo had someone inside the house. That Ben was frightened. That I needed her to watch him.”
Matteo stared.
“And she said nothing.”
“She promised me.”
He closed his eyes.
Promises.
Always promises to someone else.
Angela said:
“Matteo.”
“No.”
“You’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“You should be.”
He turned.
“That does not make it better.”
“I know.”
“Why six blocks?”
“So I could see him.”
“That is not an answer.”
She started crying.
“Because I couldn’t stay farther.”
That hurt.
“Then come home.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Anthony Greco.”
There.
The inside man.
“I discovered him four months ago.”
“How?”
“Gallo sent him after me.”
“What happened?”
“I got away.”
“Why not tell Anthony Marino?”
“I didn’t know which Anthony was compromised.”
Again.
Names.
Fear.
Reasonable confusion.
Terrible consequences.
Angela continued:
“Clara was the only person I trusted inside.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“So you hired her.”
“I asked her mother if Clara needed work.”
“She did.”
“Then I made sure the application reached your house.”
Exactly.
Matteo felt manipulated.
Maybe rightly.
“Did Clara agree to spy?”
“No.”
Angela shook her head.
“I told her only one thing.”
“What?”
“If Ben ever started talking about me, listen.”
Matteo froze.
“That’s why she didn’t question him.”
“Yes.”
Clara had been waiting.
Not interrogating.
Keeping a promise to Angela.
“And when he spoke about Victoria?”
“Clara didn’t know what it meant.”
“Did she contact you?”
Angela hesitated.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“How?”
“A number I gave her.”
Matteo stared.
Before Clara was taken.
She had contacted Angela.
“Why didn’t Angela contact me then?”
“Because Clara said Victoria was still inside.”
Silence.
Matteo understood.
Angela still believed Gallo’s network active.
Correctly.
But—
“You let our son believe you were dead.”
Angela sank into a chair.
“I know.”
“You let me bury you.”
“I know.”
“I stood over a coffin.”
She cried.
“I know.”
Matteo’s anger broke.
Not gone.
Just unable to hold shape.
“What was I supposed to do with that?”
Angela looked at him.
“I thought you’d live.”
He laughed.
“You thought wrong.”
“I know.”
“You thought Ben would be safer without you.”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“I thought he would be alive without me.”
That stopped him.
She continued:
“Gallo told me if I appeared, he would kill you first.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“And you believed him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he had already reached our car.”
Fair.
“He knew Ben’s school.”
Fair.
“He knew where you slept.”
Fair.
“He knew Carlo’s routes.”
Fair.
Angela looked at him.
“And because you refused to change anything before.”
There.
Hardest truth.
“I asked you to move.”
Matteo looked away.
“You said no.”
“I remember.”
“I asked you to stop using the house for meetings.”
“Yes.”
“You said it was secure.”
It wasn’t.
“I asked you to keep Ben away from capos.”
“Yes.”
“You said he needed to know the family.”
Matteo felt shame.
“I told you I was scared.”
He looked at her.
“I thought you were asking me to become someone else.”
“I was asking you to become a father before a boss.”
Silence.
He accepted it.
Slowly.
“You should have told me.”
“Yes.”
“You should have trusted me with the danger.”
“Yes.”
“I should have listened before it got that far.”
Angela nodded.
“Yes.”
Both truths.
Then Carlo entered fully.
Angela saw him.
Her face broke.
“Carlo.”
He smiled weakly.
“You look terrible.”
She laughed through tears.
“So do you.”
They hugged.
Matteo let them.
No jealousy.
Not now.
Anthony’s phone rang.
Security.
He answered.
His face changed.
“Greco.”
“What?”
“He resurfaced.”
“Where?”
“DeLuca estate.”
Matteo froze.
“Ben.”
Anthony listened.
“Clara has him in panic room.”
Relief.
“But Greco has Victoria.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“Inside?”
“Yes.”
“Gallo?”
“Unknown.”
Then another message arrived.
Video.
Frank Gallo.
Red ring on one hand.
Victoria tied to a chair beside him.
DeLuca ballroom.
His house.
Again.
Everyone loved using his house against him.
Gallo looked into camera.
“Matteo.”
Then smiled.
“Bring Carlo.”
Carlo stared.
Gallo continued:
“Bring Angela.”
Angela went pale.
“And bring the ledger.”
Matteo’s expression hardened.
“Or?”
Video shifted.
Ben and Clara appeared on a security feed inside the panic room.
Gallo could see them.
Not access yet.
But see.
“Or,” Gallo said, “your son learns how many people his family can lose in one night.”
Matteo’s face became cold.
Angela grabbed his arm.
“Don’t.”
He looked at her.
She knew that face.
The old one.
The one that solved threats with force.
Matteo breathed.
Then deliberately unclenched his hands.
“No.”
Carlo frowned.
“No what?”
“No charging in.”
Anthony almost smiled.
Angela stared.
Matteo looked at all of them.
“Gallo has spent seven months counting on everyone being too afraid to tell the truth.”
May you like
He looked toward the estate feed.
“So this time we stop giving him what he expects.”
