Chapter 9 - THE LAST SECRET DOMINIC KEPT
Matteo Moretti died twelve years ago.
Officially, a boating accident on Lake Michigan.
Unofficially, according to Alexander, nobody ever believed the story completely.
I sat beside him in the hospital cafeteria while Dominic underwent surgery two floors above us.
Derek was in custody.
Sloane was in custody.
Mom was safe with Sofia.
Daniel's box sat in a locked evidence room.
For the first time in days, nothing required me to run.
So naturally another dead person became complicated.
“What happened to Matteo?”
Alexander stared at untouched coffee.
“He was twenty-six.”
“Younger than you?”
“Three years.”
“Close?”
“Yes.”
The answer was quiet.
“What did he do?”
“Family business.”
“Which side?”
“Both.”
Alexander rubbed one hand over his face.
“He wanted out.”
I understood.
“Dominic didn't?”
“My father believed leaving was betrayal.”
That word again.
Control disguised as loyalty.
“What happened the night Matteo died?”
“He took a boat alone.”
“You believed that?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Matteo hated boats.”
I almost laughed.
Daniel hated heights.
The dead kept leaving clues through ordinary dislikes nobody respected.
“Sloane?”
“We suspected.”
“Dominic?”
Alexander's eyes hardened.
“I never let myself suspect.”
Because fathers were harder to accuse than enemies.
Even dangerous fathers.
Especially them.
Rachel arrived with files recovered from Derek's phone.
She sat.
“No sugarcoating.”
“Please.”
“Derek had been communicating with Sloane for four years. Victor sent him partial records to keep him compliant.”
“Blackmail?”
“Money at first. Then evidence connecting Derek to Daniel's death.”
Of course.
“Derek tried to leave?”
“Once, eighteen months ago.”
I stared.
The same month he broke my wrist.
He told the urgent care nurse I slipped on ice.
I remembered him drinking alone that week.
Angrier than usual.
Maybe Sloane had pulled the leash tighter.
Not excuse.
Context.
I no longer confused the two.
Rachel continued.
“The scheduled message to Dominic included an attachment.”
Alexander looked up.
“What?”
“A scanned ledger page.”
She slid it across.
Payment.
Twelve years ago.
Victor Sloane.
Boating maintenance contractor.
Dominic Moretti authorization.
Alexander read.
His face emptied.
“Father paid him.”
“Yes.”
“For the boat?”
“We don't know.”
A doctor entered.
“Mr. Moretti?”
Alexander stood.
“Your father is awake.”
We went upstairs.
I stopped at the door.
“This is family.”
Alexander looked at me.
“So are you—”
He stopped.
The unfinished sentence hung between us.
He looked almost startled.
I was too.
He corrected.
“This concerns Daniel's files too.”
Different sentence.
Safer.
I nodded.
Inside, Dominic looked smaller.
Oxygen beneath his nose.
Chest bandaged.
Sofia sat by the window with Mom.
My mother reached for me.
I took her hand.
Dominic looked at Alexander.
“You found Derek.”
“Yes.”
“Sloane?”
“Alive.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
Alexander placed the ledger page on the blanket.
His father opened them again.
Silence.
“Matteo.”
Dominic's voice cracked.
Sofia stood.
“What about him?”
Alexander looked at her.
“Dad paid Sloane before the boat accident.”
Sofia's face drained.
“No.”
Dominic whispered, “I didn't order his death.”
Alexander's voice was cold.
“You said that about Mom.”
Dominic flinched.
“I didn't.”
“Then explain.”
Dominic stared at the ceiling.
“Matteo stole from Victor.”
“What?”
“He was trying to create enough money to leave.”
Alexander frowned.
“Leave where?”
“California. He had a woman there.”
Sofia whispered, “Matteo?”
Dominic nodded.
“He was going to disappear.”
My mother squeezed my hand.
Family secrets filled the room like smoke.
Dominic continued.
“Victor found out.”
“And?”
“He demanded I bring Matteo back.”
Alexander's face hardened.
“What did you do?”
“I paid Victor.”
“For?”
“To scare him.”
Sofia laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
Dominic's eyes filled.
“I told Victor not to hurt him.”
Alexander turned away.
Same excuse.
Different grave.
“You gave a violent man permission to terrorize your son and then acted surprised when he died.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
No defense.
For once.
“What happened?”
“Sloane sabotaged the boat. Said he meant to disable it.”
“Do you believe him?”
“No.”
“Did you tell police?”
“No.”
Alexander laughed.
One terrible sound.
“You buried Matteo to protect the family.”
“Yes.”
“You buried Mom to protect the family.”
“Yes.”
“You let Daniel die under a false story to protect the family.”
Dominic looked at me.
“Yes.”
Something became clear.
Dominic had spent his life saving an institution called family while sacrificing actual people inside it.
I knew a smaller version.
Derek protected marriage.
Reputation.
Our perfect-couple image.
Everything except me.
Alexander stood beside the bed.
“I will not do this anymore.”
Dominic stared.
“What?”
“Moretti operations change.”
“You cannot simply—”
“I can.”
The old authority returned to Dominic's voice.
“You don't understand what holds this city together.”
Alexander looked almost sad.
“No.”
“I understand what held us together.”
He glanced at Sofia.
“Fear.”
Then at me.
“I'm done mistaking it for loyalty.”
Dominic's face tightened.
“You think becoming soft makes you different?”
Alexander's expression went cold.
“No.”
“I think giving people choices makes me different.”
Silence.
Dominic looked at me.
Perhaps understood.
Perhaps hated the answer.
It no longer mattered.
Federal investigators questioned him two days later.
He gave them records.
Not out of nobility.
Because Alexander forced every company attorney to stop shielding him.
Dominic was eventually charged in financial and obstruction cases tied to Sloane.
His health kept him under guarded medical supervision.
I did not feel sorry for him.
I did not celebrate either.
Consequences were not revenge.
They were simply what happened when secrecy finally ran out of room.
Three weeks later, Derek appeared in court.
Protective-order hearing.
Rachel sat beside me.
Alexander did not.
My choice.
He waited outside.
Derek wore a navy suit.
The one from our second anniversary.
I recognized the tie.
My body reacted before my mind did.
Pulse.
Cold hands.
Shallow breath.
Rachel leaned closer.
“You can leave.”
“No.”
“You can also stay.”
Choice.
I stayed.
Derek looked at me as if we were having a private conversation despite the judge, lawyers, and deputies.
His attorney described our marriage as “volatile.”
I almost laughed.
Volatile suggested two chemicals.
Two equal forces.
I had spent three years learning not to ignite.
Rachel introduced photographs.
Restaurant footage.
Medical records.
Messages.
Derek's voice on the garage recording.
“You know what happens when you push me.”
The courtroom heard him.
Not charming Derek.
Not concerned husband.
Him.
When it was my turn, I stood.
My legs shook.
I spoke anyway.
“Yes, he hit me.”
“Yes, he controlled my finances.”
“Yes, he isolated me from friends.”
“Yes, I was afraid to leave.”
The opposing attorney asked why I stayed.
Rachel objected.
The judge sustained.
But I asked to answer.
“I stayed because leaving an abusive relationship is not a single door.”
The room went quiet.
“It is money. Housing. Fear. Shame. Threats. People believing him. People asking what you did to make him angry.”
I looked at Derek.
“And because he taught me that every choice had a punishment.”
His face hardened.
I continued.
“I am learning that isn't true.”
The judge extended the protective order.
Rachel filed divorce papers the same afternoon.
Outside the courthouse, cameras waited.
We used a side exit.
Alexander stood beside a black SUV.
He looked at my face.
“How did it go?”
“I testified.”
“I know.”
“You weren't inside.”
“No.”
“You could have been.”
“Yes.”
“Why weren't you?”
“You asked me not to be.”
Simple.
I felt tears unexpectedly.
He frowned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Emily.”
“I am getting used to people listening.”
His expression softened.
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
I laughed.
He opened the car door.
Then stopped.
“Dinner?”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Not tonight.”
He looked almost uncomfortable.
“Eventually.”
I realized.
He was asking me on a date.
Alexander Moretti, feared by half of Chicago, looked more nervous asking me to dinner than he had facing Sloane with a gun.
I smiled.
“Eventually.”
His shoulders lowered slightly.
“Is that yes?”
“It is not no.”
“That is cruel.”
“I am relearning choice. Be patient.”
He nodded.
“As long as you need.”
I believed him.
That frightened me in a completely different way.
Two months passed.
Derek remained in custody awaiting trial on Daniel's murder and conspiracy charges.
Sloane was indicted.
Dominic cooperated enough to reduce some charges, not enough to erase them.
Mom moved temporarily into a small apartment near me.
Not Alexander's.
Mine.
Rachel helped me recover funds Derek had hidden.
I took a job at a nonprofit that helped women navigate financial abuse.
The irony was not lost on me.
One Friday evening, I opened Daniel's box.
The government had returned personal items.
His watch.
Baseball.
Dad's pocketknife.
Notebook.
At the bottom sat an envelope I had never seen.
EMILY.
My hands shook.
Inside, one page.
Em,
If you're reading this, either I finally told you the truth or I failed.
You were always the brave one, even when you hated being called brave.
Do not let anybody turn that into an obligation.
You are allowed to be scared.
You are allowed to leave.
You are allowed to stay.
Just make sure the decision is yours.
I cried.
Then laughed.
Because my brother had apparently built his final message around the lesson it took me four years to learn.
At the bottom he had added:
Also, if Dominic's oldest kid is helping you, annoy him whenever possible. He needs it.
I stared.
Then laughed harder.
My phone buzzed.
Alexander.
Not a command.
A message.
Dinner tomorrow?
You can say no.
I looked at Daniel's letter.
Then typed.
Yes.
But I pick the restaurant.
May you like
His answer came immediately.
Of course you do.
