Chapter 4 - Eight Thousand Six Hundred Dollars
Gil’s mistake came sooner than expected.
The next afternoon, Laney received a call from Juny’s rehabilitation center.
“Ms. Ashcroft?”
“Yes?”
“There’s been a change regarding your sister’s account.”
Laney gripped the phone.
“I know. I’m working on the payment.”
“No. Someone paid it.”
She froze.
“What?”
“Six months in advance.”
Laney’s first thought was Enzo.
She stormed into his office that night.
“You paid Juny’s bill.”
Enzo looked up.
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I don’t.”
“Someone paid fifty-one thousand six hundred dollars.”
Micah turned from the filing cabinet.
Enzo’s expression changed.
“Who?”
“I thought you.”
“I didn’t.”
The office became silent.
Enzo stood.
“Call them.”
Laney did.
The administrator checked.
Then returned.
“The payment came from the Rosa Castellan Community Trust.”
Enzo slowly lifted his eyes toward Micah.
Micah whispered:
“That trust supposedly stopped making charitable payments fourteen years ago.”
Laney’s anger vanished.
“Then who paid it?”
Enzo already knew.
“Gil.”
“Why?”
“To make you grateful.”
Laney shook her head.
“Why would he care about me?”
“Because you’re connected to the only witness who remembers my mother’s restaurant.”
“I was a child.”
“You remembered the box.”
Enzo reached for his coat.
Laney blocked him.
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“No?”
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“The terrifying silent mafia thing where everybody gets out of your way and nobody knows what you’re about to do.”
Micah stared at the floor.
Enzo stepped closer.
“You have a better suggestion?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Make him talk.”
“He won’t.”
“He will if he thinks he’s winning.”
Enzo studied her.
Laney continued.
“Tell him I convinced you the records mean nothing.”
“You want me to use you as bait?”
“I want him comfortable.”
“No.”
“You just asked for my suggestion.”
“I’ve heard it.”
“And?”
“No.”
Laney folded her arms.
“You are incredibly irritating.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“I’m sure.”
The following morning, however, Enzo did exactly what she suggested—with one difference.
Laney would not be present.
Gil came to the restaurant.
Enzo poured two coffees.
“You were right.”
Gil watched him.
“About?”
“My mother.”
Enzo leaned back.
“I opened things that should’ve stayed closed.”
Gil relaxed almost imperceptibly.
“And the girl?”
“Just a cook with childhood memories.”
Gil smiled.
“Good.”
That one word told Enzo everything.
Gil continued.
“Sign the power of attorney. Let old things remain old.”
Enzo pushed the document toward him.
Gil placed a pen beside it.
Then Enzo asked:
“Why did you pay her sister’s medical bill?”
Gil’s hand stopped.
The smile disappeared.
“Excuse me?”
“Wrong account.”
Gil stared at him.
Enzo leaned forward, tattoos showing beneath his cuff.
“You used my mother’s trust.”
Gil stood.
“You’re confused.”
“No.”
Enzo stood too.
“For the first time in fifteen years, I’m not.”
Gil’s face changed.
The gentle uncle disappeared.
“You have no idea what your mother was doing.”
“Then tell me.”
“She was giving everything away!”
The words exploded from him.
Enzo remained still.
Gil realized too late.
Micah stood in the doorway.
And behind him was the family attorney.
Gil’s eyes narrowed.
Enzo said quietly:
May you like
“Keep talking.”
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