Chapter 3 - THE SECRET IN THE ASHES
The safe room behind Dominic’s study was a reinforced steel vault disguised behind a wall-sized bookshelf. Inside, it was lined with plush leather sofas, emergency communication monitors, and walls filled with locked gun cases.
I sat on the floor with my back against the heavy steel door, holding Lily tightly in my lap while Leo sat quietly beside us, his small arms wrapped tightly around his knees.
On the high-definition security monitor mounted on the wall, I could see the front courtyard of the estate.
Rain had begun to fall, slicking the cobblestones. Dominic stood in the center of the driveway, surrounded by ten of his heaviest bodyguards, looking like an ancient war god under the flashing yellow lights of the security gates.
A tall, thin man in a expensive Italian trench coat stepped out of the lead black SUV. Matteo Castiglione. He had a jagged, silver scar running from his ear down to his jawline—a permanent souvenir from the war two years ago.
"Dominic!" Matteo’s voice echoed through the monitor's speakers, cut through by the sound of rain. "You look well! Living in your high castle while my family rots in the dirt!"
"You have thirty seconds to state your business before my men turn you into fish bait in the harbor, Matteo," Dominic replied, his voice booming like thunder across the courtyard.
Matteo laughed—a sharp, crazed sound. "I didn't come to fight today, Moretti. I came to deliver a truth. A truth my brother died protecting."
Matteo reached into his trench coat. Dominic’s men instantly raised their submachine guns, but Matteo slowly pulled out a thick, yellowed manila envelope tied with black string. He tossed it onto the wet cobblestones between them.
"You slaughtered my whole family because you thought my brother put that bomb under your wife's car!" Matteo shouted, pointing a gloved finger at Dominic. "You spent two years playing the grieving widower! But check the bank records in that folder, Dominic! Check the wire transfers from Swiss accounts three days before the explosion!"
Dominic didn't move, but his shoulders tightened visibly. "What are you talking about?"
"Your sweet, innocent wife, Elena!" Matteo sneered, his face twisting with vile satisfaction. "She wasn't murdered by us, Dominic! She was trying to sell your route maps to the syndicate in New York! My brother found out she was a rat and tried to blackmail her! When she realized you were about to catch her... she set off that bomb herself to fake her death and run with twenty million dollars!"
Inside the safe room, my hands flew to my mouth to stifle a gasp.
I looked over at Leo. Thank God, the six-year-old was wearing heavy noise-canceling headphones I had put on him earlier, distracted by a drawing tablet in his lap.
On the screen, Dominic’s face went completely deathly pale.
"You're lying," Dominic whispered, though his voice carried clearly through the microphone.
"Read the documents!" Matteo yelled over the sound of the rain. "The woman in that car wasn't Elena! It was a poor street girl she paid to wear her ring and drive the car! Elena is alive, Dominic! She’s living in South America on your money while you raise her bastard son!"
"SILENCE!" Dominic roared.
Before Matteo could react, Dominic pulled his weapon and fired a single round.
The bullet struck the cobblestones right between Matteo’s shoes, sending sparks flying through the rain.
"If you ever step foot on my property again, Matteo," Dominic growled, his voice trembling with a terrifying mix of fury and agony, "I won't shoot at your feet. Get out."
Matteo backed away slowly, a sick grin on his scarred face. "Check the folder, Don Moretti. Check the folder and see the monster you've been mourning!"
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Matteo scrambled back into his SUV, the tires screeching loudly as the three vehicles reversed out of the gates and sped away into the stormy night.
Dominic stood alone in the rain, staring down at the yellowed envelope lying on the wet stone.
