Chapter 11 - THE FLIGHT TO PARIS
"Put the gun down, boy," Silvio said, his voice strained but steady. He didn't reach for a weapon. He just leaned heavily on his silver-handled cane.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you right now," Dominic hissed, his finger tightening on the trigger. "You let me mourn her for twenty-two years. You watched me cry at an empty grave!"
"I watched you survive!" Silvio snapped back, his own anger finally flaring. He limped fully into the room. "You think your father faked her death for fun? You think I kept this secret because I enjoyed it?"
I stepped between them, gently resting my hand on Dominic's arm. He was shaking. "Dominic, listen to him."
Silvio sank into one of the leather visitor chairs, looking suddenly like a very old, very tired man.
"Your mother wasn't just a housewife, Dominic," Silvio said quietly. "Her maiden name was Rossi. She was the only daughter of the head of the Sicilian commission. When she married your father, it united the families. But twenty-two years ago, a faction in Sicily put a hit out on her entire bloodline."
Silvio pointed a trembling finger at the letters. "Your father didn't lock her away. He smuggled her out of the country to save her life. If the Sicilians knew she was alive, they would have come for her. And they would have come for you."
"Why didn't she ever contact me?" Dominic demanded, his voice cracking.
"She did," Silvio said softly. "She wrote those letters. But your father intercepted them. He knew if you replied, the trail could be traced. When your father died, I took over receiving them. I put them in that desk. I couldn't bring myself to burn them."
Dominic lowered his gun, running a hand through his dark hair. The betrayal was staggering. "You said the last letter arrived eighteen months ago. Why did they stop?"
Silvio looked away. "Because eighteen months ago, the Sicilian faction finally found her in Paris. They burned down the estate she was hiding in."
My breath caught. "Is she..."
"I don't know," Silvio admitted, looking back at Dominic with deep regret. "I lost contact. I've had men looking for her quietly for a year and a half. Nothing. I assumed she perished in the fire."
Dominic picked up the last letter from the desk. He tore it open.
A single sheet of paper fell out, along with a small, metal key.
My dearest Dominic, the letter read. If you are reading this, your father is gone, and my time is running out. They have found me. I am leaving this key for you. It opens locker 402 at the Gare du Nord station in Paris. It contains the truth about our family. Protect yourself. Protect your heart. I love you.
Dominic stared at the letter, his eyes blazing with a new, terrifying resolve.
He looked at me. "Pack a bag. Call Marco to secure Noah at the estate with a full guard."
"Dominic, you can't go to Paris," Silvio warned, standing up. "If she survived, she's in hiding. If you go poking around, you'll draw the Sicilians right to her. Or worse, to you."
Dominic grabbed his suit jacket.
May you like
"She's my mother, Silvio. I'm going to find her." He looked at me, his expression softening slightly. "You don't have to come, Claire. It's dangerous."
I grabbed my purse, my jaw set. "We're a family now. Where you go, I go."
