Chapter 4 - The Price of Protecting Her
Harper saw the change instantly.
Beatrice Moretti was frightened.
Not startled.
Not confused.
Frightened.
She stepped into the library and stared at the photograph in Roman’s hand.
Roman noticed.
“Ma?”
Beatrice did not answer.
Harper moved toward her.
Do you know this?
Beatrice looked at Harper.
Her eyes filled with tears.
Roman crossed the room.
“What is she saying?”
Harper did not translate because Beatrice had not answered yet.
Instead, the older woman slowly signed:
Leonard Hayes.
Harper stopped.
“You knew Leo?”
Roman looked between them.
“What?”
Harper’s heart began pounding.
“She knows his name.”
Roman turned toward his mother.
“How?”
Beatrice lowered herself into a chair.
Her hands remained in her lap for several seconds.
Then she began.
Harper translated aloud.
“Seven years ago, your mother volunteered at St. Vincent’s Deaf Outreach Center.”
Roman nodded slowly.
“I remember.”
“She met Leo there.”
Harper stared at Beatrice.
Leo had volunteered at several community programs before he died.
He had rarely discussed names.
“He taught her?”
Beatrice nodded.
Harper’s throat tightened.
The realization was almost unbearable.
Leo had helped Beatrice learn the language Harper was now using to speak to her.
Roman sat opposite his mother.
Beatrice continued.
Leo was patient.
Funny.
Annoying.
Harper laughed through tears.
“That was him.”
Beatrice smiled.
Then her expression darkened.
“He saw something,” Harper translated.
Roman became still.
“What?”
Beatrice’s hands moved carefully.
“One evening Leo came to the center frightened. He said he had accidentally photographed men meeting behind a warehouse near the river.”
Roman’s face hardened.
“Which warehouse?”
Beatrice fingerspelled a name.
Roman stood.
“Bellano.”
One of the bodyguards at the doorway cursed quietly.
Harper looked between them.
“What is Bellano?”
Roman ignored the question.
“What did Leo see?”
Beatrice continued.
“He said the men were discussing shipments. He recognized one name.”
Moretti.
Roman paced away.
Harper felt sick.
“Was my brother involved with you?”
“No.”
Roman answered immediately.
“Then what happened?”
Beatrice signed.
“He gave me a memory card.”
Harper’s breath caught.
“Why you?”
Because he trusted me.
Beatrice’s eyes filled.
And because he was scared.
Roman crouched before his mother.
“Where is it?”
Beatrice shook her head.
Gone.
“What do you mean, gone?”
“I destroyed it.”
Roman stared at her.
“Why?”
Because your father was still alive.
The room became very quiet.
Roman’s father, Salvatore Moretti, had been dead eleven years.
Harper knew almost nothing about him except the occasional newspaper description: feared, ruthless, untouchable.
Beatrice’s hands moved faster now.
“Leo believed the men were working for the Moretti organization. I watched the recording. They were not.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
“Who were they?”
“Vittorio DeLuca.”
Roman’s face changed.
Harper recognized the name.
DeLuca Construction.
One of Moretti Holdings’ biggest competitors.
Beatrice continued.
“Vittorio was meeting with one of your father’s lieutenants. Carlo Bianchi.”
Roman stood so abruptly the chair behind him shifted.
“Carlo?”
A bodyguard named Nico stepped forward.
“Boss?”
“Find him.”
“He retired five years ago.”
“Find him anyway.”
Nico left.
Harper’s mind was racing.
“What does this have to do with Leo dying?”
Beatrice stopped signing.
Harper felt the answer before she saw it.
“No.”
Beatrice reached for her.
Harper stepped backward.
“No.”
Roman watched his mother.
“What?”
Harper’s voice cracked.
“She thinks Leo’s death wasn’t natural.”
Roman went completely still.
Harper shook her head.
“No. Leo had a heart condition.”
Beatrice signed.
I know.
“He collapsed.”
I know.
“The doctors said—”
I know.
“Stop saying that!”
Harper shouted without meaning to.
Beatrice flinched.
Harper immediately hated herself.
“I’m sorry.”
She turned away.
For seven years, she had carried Leo’s death as an unavoidable tragedy.
Something terrible but random.
Now somebody was opening a door she had nailed shut.
Roman approached slowly.
“Harper.”
“Don’t.”
“I need you to listen.”
“I’ve spent seven years learning how to live with my brother being dead. I am not going to let you turn him into some mafia conspiracy because it fits your world.”
“My world may have entered his.”
“He was seventeen.”
“I know.”
“He liked astronomy and terrible superhero movies. He cheated at Monopoly. He was afraid of pigeons.”
Roman said nothing.
“He wasn’t part of this.”
“I believe you.”
Harper’s eyes burned.
“Then tell me he died naturally.”
Roman could not.
That hurt more than anything.
Beatrice came toward Harper.
She signed slowly.
I tried to protect him.
Harper stared.
How?
I told Salvatore.
Roman’s head snapped toward his mother.
“You told Dad?”
Beatrice nodded.
“He promised to handle Carlo.”
Roman’s face went hard.
“But?”
Beatrice continued.
“Two weeks later Leo died.”
Harper covered her mouth.
Roman looked devastated in a different way.
“My father knew?”
Beatrice nodded.
“Did he investigate?”
Yes.
“And?”
“He killed Carlo’s brother.”
Roman looked toward the fireplace.
“That was why.”
Harper stared at him.
“You knew someone was killed?”
“I knew Carlo’s brother disappeared. I never knew why.”
Beatrice continued.
“Salvatore believed Carlo had arranged Leo’s death to erase the witness.”
Harper’s knees weakened.
Roman caught her elbow.
She pulled away.
“Don’t touch me.”
He released her instantly.
For the next hour, Roman’s people reconstructed a seven-year-old secret.
Leo had unknowingly recorded Vittorio DeLuca and Carlo Bianchi discussing the theft of cargo through Moretti-controlled ports.
The conspiracy had been profitable.
And dangerous.
Leo became a liability simply because he had been standing in the wrong place with a camera.
But there was a problem.
Beatrice had destroyed the memory card.
There was no proof.
Only her testimony.
“Then why are they watching Harper now?” Nico asked after returning.
Roman stood before the windows.
“Because someone thinks Leo made another copy.”
Harper remembered something.
Her stomach dropped.
“Wait.”
Everyone looked at her.
“Leo backed up everything.”
Roman turned.
“What?”
“He was obsessed with losing files. Photos, school projects, music. He had external drives everywhere.”
“Where are they?”
“My mother kept his things.”
Roman reached for his phone.
Harper stopped him.
“No.”
“We need them.”
“They belong to my family.”
“And your family is being watched because somebody else wants them.”
Harper hated his logic.
She hated even more that he was right.
They went to her mother’s storage unit the next morning.
Roman insisted on accompanying her.
Harper insisted she did not need him.
Neither argument changed anything.
They searched through boxes labeled LEO’S ROOM.
Old sneakers.
Comic books.
A telescope.
A varsity jacket.
Harper found his baseball cap and pressed it to her face.
For one terrible second, she was nine again.
Leo was signing across the dinner table.
Mom says stop kicking me.
Harper had answered:
Then stop having kickable legs.
Roman quietly moved away to give her privacy.
That mattered.
She noticed.
After forty minutes, Harper found an old silver laptop.
“There.”
Roman’s security specialist powered it on.
Password required.
Harper smiled through tears.
“I know it.”
Roman looked at her.
“What?”
She typed:
PIGEONSSUCK
The desktop appeared.
Roman raised an eyebrow.
“Pigeons?”
“Long story.”
They searched.
Photographs.
Videos.
Homework.
Then Harper found a folder titled NIGHT SKY.
Inside were hundreds of photographs.
Stars.
Buildings.
Bridges.
And one video.
Roman leaned closer.
“Open it.”
Harper clicked.
The footage was shaky.
Leo’s camera moved across the riverfront.
Then voices.
Two men stood beside a loading dock.
One was younger Vittorio DeLuca.
The other was Carlo Bianchi.
Harper’s breath stopped.
The audio was weak but understandable.
Carlo spoke first.
“Moretti finds out, we’re dead.”
Vittorio laughed.
“Salvatore won’t find out.”
Then Vittorio said something that made Roman freeze.
“Once Roman takes over, we’ll own him from the inside.”
The video ended.
Harper stared.
Roman looked almost shaken.
“This wasn’t about stolen cargo.”
“What was it about?”
Roman looked at her.
“They were planning to infiltrate my organization.”
His phone rang.
Nico.
Roman answered.
His expression changed immediately.
“What happened?”
A pause.
Then:
“Where?”
Harper watched the blood drain from his face.
Roman ended the call.
“What?”
He looked at her.
“Your mother’s facility.”
Harper’s heart stopped.
“What about it?”
“Someone tried to enter her room.”
Harper grabbed her coat.
Roman caught her wrist.
“They didn’t get inside.”
“Let go.”
“Harper.”
“My mother is there!”
“She’s safe.”
“You don’t get to tell me that!”
Roman released her.
“I’m coming.”
They raced toward the exit.
Behind them, the laptop remained open.
Neither noticed the tiny green light beside its camera switch on.
May you like
Someone was watching.
And somewhere across New York, Vittorio DeLuca smiled.
