Chapter 4 - THE PRICE OF A MOTHER’S SECRET
Eleanor refused to speak in the sitting room.
She led them instead to a private chapel hidden behind the west corridor, a narrow room lined with dark wood, old candles, and stained glass imported from Sicily by Matteo’s grandfather. Elena thought it was an odd place for confession until she saw how Eleanor’s shoulders bent beneath the weight of what she had carried.
Matteo closed the door.
Marco stayed outside.
Eleanor sat in the first pew and stared at the small altar.
“When your father was alive,” she began, “the Romano family was at war with three different crews. Your father wanted peace, but peace in our world was always purchased by marriage, money, or fear.”
Elena remained standing.
Matteo leaned against the wall, arms folded.
“Arthur Capone offered an alliance,” Eleanor continued. “Not the one involving Victoria. An older agreement. He wanted access to Romano shipping contracts. Your father refused.”
“What does that have to do with Isabella?” Matteo asked.
Eleanor’s hands twisted together.
“Arthur came to me privately. He said men inside our own organization were planning to kill your father. He offered names in exchange for money. I believed him.”
Matteo’s face darkened. “How much?”
“Three million.”
Elena stared at her.
“I moved the money without telling your father. Arthur gave me a list. Two men on it were later discovered passing information to rivals, so I thought the warning had been real.”
“But?” Matteo asked.
Eleanor’s eyes filled.
“A month after I paid him, Isabella was taken.”
The chapel seemed to grow colder.
Matteo stepped forward. “You think the money financed the kidnapping.”
“I don’t know. I never knew.”
“You never told Father?”
“He would have started a war immediately. He was already destroying himself with grief. I thought silence might keep you alive.”
Matteo turned away sharply and struck the wooden wall with the heel of his hand.
Elena flinched.
He saw it and immediately lowered his arm.
“I’m sorry,” he said to her.
The apology surprised her almost as much as the blow.
Eleanor reached into her handbag and removed a small brass key.
“I kept the bank records.”
Matteo looked at her.
“Not here. In the old lake house.”
“The house burned.”
“The main structure did. Your father rebuilt the west wing. There is a safe beneath the nursery floor.”
Elena’s scar began to ache.
“The nursery,” she whispered.
Eleanor nodded. “Your room.”
A memory surged.
Firelight.
A man carrying a gasoline can.
A child hiding under a bed.
Then Matteo dragging her through smoke.
Elena pressed both palms to the pew.
“The fire was not an accident.”
Eleanor went still.
“I remember someone in the hallway,” Elena said. “He had a ring. Big. Silver.”
Matteo’s eyes sharpened. “What kind of ring?”
“A horse. Or maybe a knight.”
Eleanor whispered, “Capone crest.”
Before anyone could speak, a muffled burst sounded from the corridor.
Matteo drew his pistol and moved in front of Elena.
A second burst followed.
Marco shouted from outside. “Down!”
Matteo shoved the chapel door closed as bullets punched through the wood. Splinters sprayed across the pews. Eleanor screamed.
Elena hit the floor.
The guards returned fire from the corridor.
For thirty seconds, Belladonna became thunder.
Then silence.
Marco’s voice came through the door. “Clear!”
Matteo opened it cautiously.
One attacker lay wounded near the staircase. Another had fled through a service exit. The missing downstairs guard was dead near the pantry.
Marco kicked a pistol away from the wounded man.
Elena saw his face and froze.
He was older now, heavier, with gray in his beard.
But she remembered the smell.
Cheap tobacco.
Stale cologne.
The black sedan.
Her vision narrowed.
“That’s him.”
Matteo turned.
Elena pointed at the wounded man. “He took me.”
The attacker looked at her and smiled through blood on his teeth.
“Well,” he rasped. “Little Bella finally remembers.”
Matteo lunged.
Marco caught him before he could reach the man. “Alive. We need him alive.”
The attacker laughed weakly. “Still the same hotheaded kid.”
Matteo’s voice shook with rage. “Who gave the order?”
The man spat blood onto the marble.
“Ask Capone.”
Elena stepped closer despite Matteo’s attempt to stop her.
“What did you do to me?”
The attacker’s smile faded.
“You were supposed to disappear. But the doctor got sentimental. Then the orphanage woman got greedy. Too many people wanted insurance.”
“Insurance against what?”
“Against the day Arthur turned on them.”
Marco crouched beside him. “Names.”
The attacker looked toward the staircase.
A red laser dot appeared suddenly on his chest.
Marco saw it first.
“Move!”
The shot came through the tall window.
The attacker’s body jerked.
Glass exploded inward.
Matteo threw Elena behind a marble column while guards fired toward the grounds.
The wounded man gasped once and went limp.
Elena stared at his open eyes.
Their first living witness had been silenced.
Marco shouted into his radio, ordering the grounds sealed.
Matteo looked toward the shattered window and then at Eleanor.
“Lake house. Now.”
Eleanor nodded.
Elena stood.
Matteo turned to her. “You stay here.”
“No.”
“Bella—”
“Elena,” she snapped.
He corrected himself instantly. “Elena. This is dangerous.”
She looked at the dead man, then at the bullet hole in the chapel door.
“It has been dangerous since I was seven. The difference is that now I know it.”
Matteo studied her for a moment.
Then he gave her a spare armored coat.
They left Belladonna in a convoy before noon.
At the edge of the property, Elena glanced back at the broken chapel window.
For the first time, she understood something terrifying.
May you like
The people who had stolen her childhood were not afraid because she was alive.
They were afraid because she was remembering.
