Chapter 2 - THE HUSBAND WHO LIED
Emma had expected Adrian Moretti to take her to some dark warehouse by the harbor.
Instead, the SUV stopped beneath a glass residential tower overlooking Boston Common.
Private elevator.
Underground security.
Cameras everywhere.
On the thirty-second floor, Adrian owned a penthouse that looked less like the home of a crime boss and more like the headquarters of a paranoid billionaire.
Emma entered dripping rainwater onto polished stone.
“Phone,” Adrian said.
“No.”
“It can be tracked.”
“So can yours.”
“Mine is protected.”
“And mine contains my life.”
Adrian extended his hand.
Emma stared at him.
“Your men pulled guns in a restaurant.”
“After someone shot at us.”
“You grabbed me before anyone fired.”
“Because I saw the shooter’s laser reflection.”
Emma could not tell whether that was true.
She surrendered the phone.
Adrian handed it to his security chief, Marcus Hale, the gray-haired man from dinner.
“Airplane mode. Faraday case.”
Marcus nodded.
Emma folded her arms.
“Now tell me everything.”
Adrian removed his wet jacket.
“Everything will take years.”
“Start with Daniel.”
“Julian.”
“His name is Daniel.”
“His birth certificate says Julian Alexander Moretti.”
“My marriage certificate says Daniel Carter.”
“Both can be true.”
Emma hated that answer.
Adrian walked toward a wall display and entered a code.
A concealed cabinet opened.
Inside were photographs.
Not guns.
Photographs.
Family photographs.
Adrian removed one.
Four boys stood on a beach beside a younger man Emma recognized as Adrian.
The youngest boy looked sixteen.
Dark hair.
Blue-gray eyes.
Daniel.
Emma took the picture.
Her fingers trembled.
“No.”
The boy was smiling differently than Daniel usually smiled.
Wilder.
Carefree.
But it was him.
“When?”
“Twenty years ago.”
Emma sank onto a sofa.
Adrian sat opposite her.
“Our father, Vincent Moretti, built most of the family businesses. Some legitimate. Some not.”
“So the stories are true.”
“Some.”
“You’re a criminal.”
Adrian smiled without humor.
“Tonight that may be the least important thing you learn.”
Emma tightened her grip on the photograph.
“What happened to Julian?”
Adrian leaned forward.
“Twelve years ago, our father planned to hand control of the legitimate companies to me and create trust funds for my brothers. Someone inside our organization wanted the transition stopped.”
“Who?”
“We never proved it.”
“You expect me to believe you control half the city but couldn’t figure out who attacked your family?”
“That is exactly what made it dangerous.”
Adrian explained that one summer night, Julian—twenty-two at the time—had been driving to meet Adrian in Cape Cod.
His car was forced off the road.
The vehicle was found burning.
No body.
For months, the Morettis searched.
Then a detective told them blood evidence suggested Julian had been injured badly enough that he could not have survived long.
A year later, their father died of a heart attack.
Adrian believed grief helped kill him.
Emma stared at Daniel’s teenage face.
“But Daniel remembered his life.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He said he grew up outside Portland, Maine.”
“False.”
“His mother died when he was ten.”
“Our mother died when he was nineteen.”
“He said his father abandoned him.”
“Our father spent millions searching for him.”
Emma stood abruptly.
“Stop.”
Adrian fell silent.
“You’re making him sound like a monster.”
“I’m describing facts.”
“He loved me.”
“I didn’t say he didn’t.”
“You’re saying our entire marriage was a lie.”
“No.” Adrian paused. “I’m saying his past was.”
Emma walked toward the windows.
Boston glittered below.
She remembered meeting Daniel at a used bookstore.
He had dropped three biographies.
She helped pick them up.
They argued over whether Thomas Jefferson was more hypocrite than visionary.
He asked her for coffee.
Three years later they married.
Five years after that he died.
Except he had not.
“Could he have lost his memory?” Emma asked.
Adrian considered it.
“Possible.”
“But you don’t believe that.”
“I believe people tell lies for reasons. Sometimes selfish reasons. Sometimes survival.”
A door opened.
Marcus entered.
“We pulled traffic feeds.”
Adrian stood.
“Where?”
“Airport to Back Bay. Then nothing.”
“Did he know he was being followed?”
“Looks like it.”
Marcus placed a tablet down.
The video showed Daniel exiting a taxi.
He stopped.
Looked directly toward a traffic camera.
Then lifted his right hand.
Three fingers.
Fist.
Two fingers.
Adrian went still.
“What?” Emma asked.
Marcus replayed it.
Adrian watched again.
“What does that mean?”
“It’s an old family code.”
“For?”
“Thirty-two.”
Emma frowned.
“Thirty-two what?”
Adrian was already moving.
“Locker.”
“Where?”
“South Station used to have storage lockers. Years ago my brothers and I used locker thirty-two to hide things from our father.”
Marcus looked doubtful.
“Those lockers were removed.”
“The original station basement storage wasn’t.”
Emma stood.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“He’s my husband.”
“And my brother.”
“So?”
“So if it is a trap, I know what to look for.”
“And I don’t?”
“You’re a waitress.”
Emma stepped toward him.
“I was a wife who survived being told the person I loved most was burned beyond recognition. Then I worked sixty-hour weeks while paying bills for a funeral that apparently buried nobody. Tonight I got shot at because your family jewelry is on my hand.”
Adrian stared at her.
Emma pointed toward the elevator.
“I’m coming.”
Ten minutes later, they were moving through Boston in two vehicles.
South Station was crowded despite the weather.
Commuters rushed toward trains.
Emma followed Adrian and Marcus through a service corridor normally closed to passengers.
A security supervisor apparently knew better than to question Adrian.
They descended narrow concrete stairs.
The basement smelled like dust and rust.
Rows of abandoned metal cabinets lined one wall.
Numbers were barely visible.
Adrian crouched.
The lock had been replaced recently.
Marcus produced tools.
Emma folded her arms.
“Crime boss travels with lock picks?”
“I diversify.”
It was the first almost-joke Adrian had made.
Emma did not smile.
Marcus opened the lock.
Inside sat a small brown envelope.
Nothing else.
Adrian reached for it.
Emma stopped him.
“It was addressed to me.”
Written on the envelope were two words.
For Emma.
She took it.
Inside was a key and a folded sheet of paper.
Emma recognized the handwriting immediately.
Her heart broke before she read a word.
Em,
If you are reading this, then the lie I built to keep you alive has finally collapsed.
She stopped.
Adrian watched silently.
Emma continued.
I wanted to come home every day. Every single day. But the night of the crash, I learned someone had been watching you for months. They knew who I really was. They knew what you meant to me.
Her eyes blurred.
My death was the only way to make you worthless to them.
Emma pressed a hand against her mouth.
Adrian looked toward Marcus.
Neither interrupted.
I know you will hate me. You should. But if I had chosen the truth, you might have died beside me.
Do not trust the police. Do not trust anyone from my family simply because they share my blood.
Adrian stiffened.
Emma read aloud now.
“Especially Adrian.”
The basement became silent.
Marcus looked at his boss.
Emma stared at Adrian.
He did not flinch.
“Keep reading,” he said.
Emma unfolded the bottom portion.
Adrian believes our father died from grief. He is wrong. Our father was murdered. The person responsible is still inside the Moretti organization.
A noise echoed upstairs.
Footsteps.
Marcus drew his weapon.
“Someone followed us.”
Adrian reached for Emma.
She pulled away.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Emma.”
“Daniel warned me about you.”
“He also faked his death.”
Another sound.
Closer.
Marcus gestured toward a second corridor.
“Move.”
They hurried through the basement.
Emma clutched the letter.
At the bottom was one final sentence.
The key opens the place where I hid the evidence. But Emma, if Adrian is with you, do not tell him where.
The lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the corridor.
A suppressed gunshot snapped through the basement.
Concrete burst beside Adrian’s head.
Marcus fired back.
Emma screamed.
Someone seized her from behind.
A hand covered her mouth.
She kicked wildly.
Then she heard a voice against her ear.
A voice she had heard in dreams for two years.
“Emma.”
Her entire body stopped.
“Don’t scream.”
Tears flooded her eyes.
The stranger pulled her through a doorway.
Emergency lighting flickered on.
Emma turned.
Daniel stood in front of her.
Alive.
Thinner.
Scarred.
Bearded.
But alive.
Emma hit him.
Hard.
The slap echoed through the tiny maintenance room.
Daniel did not defend himself.
She hit his chest next.
Then again.
“You died!”
“I know.”
“You let me bury you!”
“I know.”
“You let me think—”
Her voice broke.
Daniel caught her wrists.
She fought him.
“You let me think I wasn’t enough for you to stay alive!”
His face collapsed.
“I’m sorry.”
“DON’T!”
Outside, gunfire echoed.
Daniel looked toward the door.
“We have seconds.”
Emma stared at the man she had mourned.
“What is happening?”
“Adrian’s organization has been compromised.”
“Adrian says he’s trying to protect me.”
“So am I.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
“I will.”
“When?”
Daniel looked at the key in her hand.
“When we survive tonight.”
Someone struck the door from outside.
Daniel raised a pistol.
Emma stared at it.
“You have a gun?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know.”
“That’s becoming painfully obvious.”
The door burst open.
Adrian entered with his weapon raised.
Daniel aimed directly at him.
The brothers froze.
Twelve years of disappearance stood between them.
Adrian’s face changed first.
“Julian.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“Don’t call me that.”
Adrian lowered his weapon.
“You’re alive.”
Daniel did not.
“And you’re still surrounded by traitors.”
Emma stepped between them.
“Both of you stop.”
Neither moved.
Emma raised the letter.
“Daniel says not to trust Adrian. Adrian says I don’t know Daniel.”
“That’s true,” Daniel said.
Emma looked at him.
He immediately regretted the words.
She laughed bitterly.
“Fantastic.”
Then Marcus appeared behind Adrian.
“Boss, we need to go.”
Daniel’s pistol shifted toward Marcus.
“Not with him.”
Adrian frowned.
“Marcus has been with me for eighteen years.”
Daniel stared at the older man.
“That’s the problem.”
Marcus slowly raised his hands.
Emma felt the air change.
Daniel’s eyes narrowed.
“You want to know who helped kill our father?”
Adrian looked at Marcus.
Then Daniel.
“No.”
Daniel’s voice dropped.
“Ask your most loyal friend where he was the night Dad died.”
Marcus smiled.
It was small.
Cold.
And in that instant Emma understood something terrible.
They had found the traitor.
But the traitor had found them first.
Marcus pulled a second gun from behind his back.
May you like
The basement erupted in gunfire.
And Emma watched the husband she had buried throw himself between her and the bullets.
