Chapter 4 - The Man Who Came Back From the Dead
My father walked into Joseph Keller's apartment at 4:17 in the morning.
No dramatic entrance.
No army.
No expensive suit.
Just an older man in a dark raincoat.
His hair was gray.
His face thinner.
But his eyes were exactly the same.
"Dad?"
He looked at me.
"Hello, little bird."
I crossed the room before I could think.
Then stopped.
Eighteen years stood between us.
"You left me."
His face broke.
"I know."
"You left Mom."
"I know."
"You let us think you were dead."
"I know."
"Stop saying that!"
He lowered his head.
Alessandro stayed near the window.
My father saw him.
The softness vanished.
"Moretti."
"Matteo."
"You look like your father."
"So I've been told."
"That's not a compliment."
"It usually isn't."
I turned between them.
"Enough."
Neither spoke.
"Someone tells me the truth now."
My father removed his coat.
"Carbone framed me."
Alessandro's jaw tightened.
"Proof?"
Matteo laughed bitterly.
"You always were impatient."
"You've had eighteen years."
"And staying alive consumed most of them."
"Dad."
He looked at me.
"I discovered Carbone was stealing from Moretti Maritime and using shell companies to move money. Your grandfather—"
He looked at Alessandro.
"—was going to confront him."
"What happened?" I asked.
"Carbone learned I had the records."
"So you ran?"
"No. I tried to bring them to Antonio Moretti."
Alessandro's expression sharpened.
"My father."
"Yes."
Matteo sat down.
"I never reached him."
He looked at me again.
"After that, I knew anyone near me would become leverage."
"So abandoning us was protection?"
"No."
His answer surprised me.
"It was cowardice."
The room became silent.
"I told myself it was protection. For years, I believed it because the alternative was admitting I was afraid."
I swallowed.
"Mom died waiting for you."
His eyes closed.
"I know."
"She never stopped defending you."
"I know."
This time I let him say it.
Alessandro stepped forward.
"Where's the evidence?"
Matteo reached inside his coat.
Alessandro's body tensed.
My father noticed.
"Still expecting the worst."
"Usually keeps me alive."
Matteo pulled out an old brass key.
He placed it on the table.
"Grand Central Terminal. Storage facility beneath the old commercial level."
Joseph frowned.
"That's your evidence?"
"The key opens a box containing copies of everything."
Alessandro stared at it.
"Why keep it eighteen years?"
"Because Carbone wasn't the only man involved."
"Who else?"
"I don't know."
Alessandro's eyes hardened.
"Then how do you know someone else exists?"
"Because Carbone couldn't have known where I was that night unless someone close to Antonio told him."
Alessandro became very still.
My father pushed the key toward him.
"Someone inside your father's inner circle helped destroy both our families."
I looked at Alessandro.
"And now?"
"Now we find out who."
My father shook his head.
"No. You don't."
Alessandro almost smiled.
"You came here to give me a key and expected me not to use it?"
"I came here because Camila sang in front of half Manhattan."
"That was his fault," I said.
Both men looked at Alessandro.
He frowned.
"Why am I suddenly the villain?"
"You challenged a waitress to sing Mozart."
"You poured wine on me."
"Accidentally."
"And then you accepted."
"You threatened me with ten years of debt."
Joseph raised one finger.
"While we're reviewing the evening, there was also a marriage proposal."
My father's head snapped toward Alessandro.
"What?"
I closed my eyes.
"Joseph."
"What marriage proposal?"
Alessandro looked genuinely irritated.
"It was a joke."
My father stood.
"You proposed to my daughter?"
"In fairness, she hasn't finished the aria."
I stared at him.
"That's your defense?"
For the first time that night, my father laughed.
A real laugh.
It lasted three seconds.
Then his phone vibrated.
He looked at the screen.
The laughter vanished.
"What?" Alessandro asked.
My father turned the phone around.
A message.
Only six words.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED DEAD, MATTEO.
Alessandro looked at the brass key.
"Carbone knows you're here."
My father shook his head.
"No."
"What?"
"Only three people knew I was coming."
He looked at Alessandro.
"Me."
Then Joseph.
"Joseph."
Then me.
A terrible silence followed.
Alessandro finished the thought.
May you like
"And whoever followed Camila from Vetro Nero."
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