Chapter 6 - ST. JUDE'S
We left Chicago before sunrise.
Mara insisted that Emma stay with Daniel.
I wanted my daughter beside me.
But for once, I listened.
The drive to Wisconsin was quiet.
I watched the city disappear behind us.
Vincent had called twelve times.
I didn't answer.
Then he sent one message.
PLEASE LET ME EXPLAIN.
I typed a response.
You had seven years.
I deleted it.
There was no point.
St. Jude's wasn't a hospital.
It was an abandoned rehabilitation center hidden behind a line of trees outside a small Wisconsin town.
The building looked empty.
Windows boarded.
Paint peeling.
A rusted sign hanging above the entrance.
Mara parked several yards away.
"Stay in the car."
"No."
"Claire."
"I'm done being kept in the dark."
She studied me.
Then sighed.
"Fine. But you stay behind me."
We entered through a side door.
Inside, the building smelled like dust and old disinfectant.
Our footsteps echoed.
Daniel's friend had provided us with a map.
The basement had once been used for long-term medical care.
We found an office.
Inside were boxes.
Patient files.
Most were decades old.
Then I saw a name.
GABRIEL MORETTI.
My hands shook.
I pulled the file free.
The first page showed a photograph.
It was him.
Alive.
Six years earlier.
Bandages covered one side of his face.
The report said he had suffered severe injuries but survived.
I turned the page.
TRANSFERRED UNDER PRIVATE SECURITY.
I turned another.
AUTHORIZED BY VINCENT MORETTI.
My eyes filled with tears.
"Why would he hide this from me?"
Mara didn't answer.
Because she knew.
The next page contained a handwritten note.
GABRIEL REQUESTS NO CONTACT WITH FAMILY UNTIL THREAT IS CONTAINED.
I stared at the sentence.
"Gabriel asked Vincent to keep him hidden."
"Apparently."
"Then Vincent didn't invent the lie."
"No."
"He still lied to me."
"Yes."
The distinction hurt.
Because it meant my husband might have betrayed me for a reason that wasn't selfish.
And somehow, that made forgiveness harder.
A noise came from the hallway.
We froze.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Then a man's voice.
"You're late."
Vincent.
I stepped out.
He looked exhausted.
No security team.
No polished suit.
Just a black sweater and a face that had aged ten years in a week.
"What are you doing here?"
"Looking for my brother."
"You knew."
"Yes."
"You knew he was alive."
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because Gabriel made me promise."
I shook my head.
"You made me believe your brother was dead."
"I know."
"Emma believes you forgot her."
His eyes closed.
"I know."
"Do you know what that did to her?"
"Every second."
His voice broke.
"I've hated myself for every second."
I wanted to believe him.
That was the worst part.
Vincent stepped closer.
"Gabriel wanted to tell you."
"Then why didn't he?"
"Because he believed the people hunting him would use you."
"Who?"
He looked at Mara.
Then at me.
"Elena."
I felt a chill.
"She's alive."
"I believe she is."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because Gabriel left something behind."
He pointed toward the basement.
"A recording."
We followed him.
Behind a loose panel in the wall was a small metal box.
Inside was a flash drive.
Vincent picked it up.
"Gabriel recorded this six years ago."
He handed it to Mara.
We found an old laptop in the office.
The recording began.
Gabriel appeared on the screen.
He looked younger.
Tired.
But alive.
"Vincent, if you're watching this, it means something went wrong."
I couldn't breathe.
Gabriel continued.
"I didn't die in the crash."
He looked directly into the camera.
"Elena arranged it."
Vincent stood beside me.
Gabriel explained that Elena had discovered a network of corrupt businessmen and officials using Moretti shipping routes to move money and manipulate contracts.
She wanted to expose them.
But when Gabriel discovered she had been secretly working with them, he confronted her.
She caused the crash.
Then she disappeared.
"She believes I'm dead," Gabriel said.
"Let her."
He paused.
"Because if she knows I'm alive, she'll come after everyone I love."
The recording ended.
I looked at Vincent.
"Is Gabriel still alive?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Not here."
"Then take me to him."
Vincent shook his head.
"No."
I stared at him.
"You don't get to say no anymore."
"If you go to Gabriel, they may follow you."
"They already followed me."
"I know."
"Then stop protecting me with lies."
He looked away.
"I don't know how."
The honesty stunned me.
Vincent Moretti had an answer for everything.
Except that.
Mara interrupted.
"We should leave."
A loud crash came from upstairs.
Vincent's entire body changed.
"Someone's here."
We moved toward the exit.
Another crash.
Then smoke began drifting down the stairwell.
Fire.
Again.
Vincent grabbed my arm.
"Move."
We ran.
Outside, cold air hit us.
The building behind us began filling with smoke.
Mara called emergency services.
Vincent stared at the flames.
"Someone knew we were here."
I looked at him.
"How?"
His phone rang.
He answered.
"Yes?"
A voice spoke.
Vincent's expression turned deadly.
"Where?"
He listened.
Then hung up.
"What?"
"Gabriel's safe house was breached."
My heart stopped.
"Is he alive?"
"We don't know."
I grabbed Vincent's coat.
"You promised."
He looked at me.
"I'll find him."
"No."
I released him.
"We'll find him."
He stared at me.
Then nodded.
For the first time since I had left him, we stood on the same side.
Not as husband and wife.
Not as a mafia boss and his wife.
As two parents trying to keep one family from being destroyed by secrets.
But before we could leave, Mara picked something up from the ground.
A small silver moon pendant.
My heart stopped.
"That's Sophia's."
Vincent looked at it.
"No."
"What?"
He turned it over.
On the back was an engraved letter.
G.
Gabriel.
Vincent's face went pale.
"That isn't Sophia's."
"Then whose is it?"
He looked toward the burning building.
"My brother's."
I stared at the pendant.
"Why would Gabriel give Sophia his necklace?"
"He wouldn't."
Vincent took it from me.
"Which means someone wanted us to think he did."
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One sentence.
STOP LOOKING FOR GABRIEL.
I looked at Vincent.
Then another message arrived.
OR EMMA WILL BE NEXT.
The world went silent.
Vincent reached for my phone.
I let him take it.
His face hardened.
"No one touches our daughter."
I believed him.
And that frightened me.
Because for the first time in seven years, I realized Vincent wasn't fighting to keep me.
He was fighting to keep Emma alive.
We drove back toward Chicago without speaking.
The highway lights blurred across the windshield.
I kept thinking about the message.
OR EMMA WILL BE NEXT.
Vincent sat in the passenger seat of Daniel's car, staring at his phone.
"Who has access to the Moretti security system?" I asked.
"Too many people."
"Can you trust any of them?"
He shook his head.
"Not anymore."
"Then what are we supposed to do?"
"Change everything."
He looked at me.
"Routes. Phones. Drivers. Accounts. Houses."
I studied him.
"Your entire life?"
"Yes."
"Can you?"
"I have to."
His phone rang again.
This time, he answered on speaker.
A man's voice said, "The girl is safe."
Vincent's shoulders relaxed for one second.
"Where is she?"
"With your brother."
My heart jumped.
"Gabriel?"
The caller went silent.
Then the line disconnected.
I looked at Vincent.
"That was a mistake."
"What?"
"The caller said 'your brother.'"
Vincent's face changed.
"He never says that."
"What does he say?"
"Gabriel's name."
Mara, who had been silent in the back seat, leaned forward.
"Then he was confirming something."
"What?"
"That Gabriel is alive."
I stared out the window.
For six years, everyone had mourned a dead man.
Now someone was protecting him.
Someone was threatening Emma.
And someone knew exactly where we were.
When we reached Chicago, Vincent did something unexpected.
He got out of the car and stood on the sidewalk.
"Claire."
I lowered the window.
"If you need anything—"
"I know."
He nodded.
I almost drove away.
Then I asked, "Vincent?"
"Yes?"
"If Gabriel survives this, I want him to tell me everything."
"He will."
"And if you lie to me again?"
His eyes met mine.
"You won't have to leave me twice."
I didn't know whether that was a promise or a confession.
Maybe both.
Daniel drove away.
Ten minutes later, my phone rang.
It was Emma.
"Mommy?"
"Hi, baby."
"Daddy came."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
"He came to see me."
I looked at Daniel.
"Where are you?"
"At Uncle Daniel's."
"Is Daddy there now?"
"No."
"What did he say?"
Emma giggled softly.
"He said he was sorry."
I closed my eyes.
"Did he say anything else?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"He said he loves me more than all the stars."
I swallowed hard.
Then Emma whispered, "Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"Can Daddy come home if he promises not to leave?"
I couldn't answer.
Because that was the question I had been avoiding.
Not whether Vincent loved us.
I knew he did.
The question was whether love was enough when trust had been broken.
Before I could speak, Daniel's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
"Claire."
"What?"
"There's been another message."
"From who?"
He handed me his phone.
The screen showed a photograph.
Emma asleep in Daniel's guest room.
Taken from inside the house.
Under it were four words.
WE CAN SEE YOU.
I stopped breathing.
May you like
Someone had been inside.
And they had been close enough to touch my daughter.
