Chapter 6 - THE GODMOTHER’S TABLE.
Caterina Caruso Moretti served lunch at one.
Always.
Wars, funerals, indictments, divorces—none had ever changed that.
At twelve fifty-eight the next day, Nicholas entered her brownstone on East Seventy-Third Street and found the dining table set for two.
Caterina sat at the far end beneath an oil portrait of her mother.
She was seventy-two and looked ten years younger. Silver hair in a smooth twist. Black dress. One strand of pearls. Her hands rested beside a porcelain plate painted with tiny blue flowers.
“Nicholas,” she said. “You look tired.”
“Sal Rizzo is in intensive care.”
She sighed. “Then perhaps we should skip the soup.”
Nicholas stared at her.
Caterina lifted one eyebrow.
“You did not come here for affection. Sit.”
He sat.
A housemaid entered with soup.
Nicholas waited until she left.
“Edward Harrow says I should ask you about Vale.”
Caterina placed her spoon down.
The tiny click of silver against porcelain sounded enormous.
“So Edward is alive.”
Nicholas leaned back.
“You know him.”
“I knew his father.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No. It is what I answered.”
Nicholas’s jaw tightened.
He had forgotten how much he hated family lunches.
Caterina dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin.
“What exactly do you want to know?”
“Who is Vale?”
“Many people have used that name.”
“My fiancée was taking instructions from someone using it.”
“Former fiancée, I assume.”
Nicholas said nothing.
Caterina smiled faintly. “Good. I never liked her.”
“You introduced us.”
“I introduce people to dentists. It does not mean I recommend marriage.”
“Did you know she was compromised?”
Caterina’s smile disappeared.
“No.”
Nicholas studied her.
“Did you know Elena was investigating family accounts before she died?”
That did it.
Caterina’s face went still.
Not surprised.
Still.
Nicholas felt something break quietly inside him.
“You knew.”
“I knew she had questions.”
“She recorded a message.”
Caterina looked away.
“You knew about that too.”
“I knew she intended to.”
Nicholas stood.
“Sit down.”
“You lied to me for eleven years.”
“I kept you alive for eleven years.”
He looked at her.
Caterina’s voice sharpened.
“Sit down, Nicholas.”
He remained standing.
She sighed.
“Your father was not the only Caruso with power. He was simply the loudest. In the nineties, several men around him began moving money into legitimate industries—construction, medical supply, real estate, ports. That part you know.”
Nicholas did.
“Others believed legitimacy would weaken the family. They built a parallel structure. Quiet. Invisible. They used consultants and foundations. They recruited judges, financiers, union administrators. They called it the Vale because it sat between the visible world and ours.”
Nicholas stared.
“Who led it?”
“At first, three men. One was Edward Harrow’s father. One was Sal Rizzo’s older brother.”
“And the third?”
Caterina looked at him.
“My husband.”
Nicholas went silent.
Victor Moretti had died of a heart attack twenty years ago.
At least that was what Nicholas had been told.
Caterina continued. “Victor believed your father was reckless. He believed the Caruso name needed protection from the Carusos. Over time, the Vale became wealthy enough to stop protecting anything except itself.”
“And you?”
“I spent twenty years trying to dismantle it without starting a family war.”
Nicholas laughed once.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No. I expect you to verify it.”
He stared at her.
That sounded like Elena.
Caterina saw the recognition.
“She came to me,” she said softly. “Three months before she died.”
Nicholas’s hands curled.
“And you did not tell me.”
“She made me promise not to.”
“She was my wife.”
“She was also dying, Nicholas, and she knew exactly what grief would do to you.”
He stepped away from the table.
Caterina’s voice followed.
“You think the world owes you every truth because you loved her. It does not. Elena was still a person separate from your love. She made choices.”
Nicholas turned.
“That is a very elegant way to explain eleven years of silence.”
“It is an ugly way to explain a promise.”
He said nothing.
Caterina opened a small leather folder beside her plate.
Inside was a photograph.
She slid it across the table.
Nicholas picked it up.
Elena stood outside St. Catherine’s Hospital beside Gabriel Santos.
Maria’s brother was younger than in the dresser photograph, smiling awkwardly into the camera.
Beside them stood Sal Rizzo.
Nicholas looked up.
“Sal knew Elena?”
“Yes.”
“He never told me.”
“He was protecting Gabriel.”
“From whom?”
Caterina looked toward the window.
“From my son.”
Nicholas stopped breathing.
Adrian Moretti.
His cousin.
Forty-six. Investment banker. Philanthropist. Board member of three museums and a children’s hospital.
A man who called Nicholas every Christmas morning.
“No,” Nicholas said.
Caterina’s face cracked.
It was the first time he had ever seen her look old.
“I wish that were true.”
“What did Adrian do?”
“He found Victor’s records after his father died. He was twenty-six. Brilliant. Angry. He believed his father had been cheated out of leadership by your father.”
“So he rebuilt the Vale.”
“He modernized it.”
Nicholas stared at the photograph.
“Why steal from me now?”
“Because you are about to merge Caruso Development with three public companies. Once that happens, many of the old channels disappear under independent audits. Adrian’s hidden structure collapses.”
The blue file.
The forged transfer.
The timing.
Nicholas understood.
“He needs voting control before the merger.”
“Yes.”
“And Vivienne?”
“A convenient weakness.”
Nicholas looked at Caterina.
“You introduced us.”
Pain crossed her face.
“Yes.”
“Did Adrian ask you to?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because you had been alone for eleven years.”
Nicholas nearly laughed.
“You chose poorly.”
“I did.”
The admission disarmed him more than an excuse would have.
He set the photograph down.
“Where is Adrian?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do not lie to me again.”
“I am not.”
Nicholas held her gaze.
Caterina did not look away.
“What happened to Gabriel Santos?” he asked.
Her eyes lowered.
“I believe Adrian had him taken.”
“Believe?”
“I never found a body.”
“Eight years.”
“Yes.”
Nicholas thought of Maria saying gone.
Thought of Lucy sleeping with a rabbit someone had opened to hide Elena’s message.
“Why was the drive planted now?”
Caterina shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Sal?”
“Possibly. If he had the original recording.”
“He was seen in Maria’s corridor.”
Caterina’s eyes widened.
“He found her.”
“What?”
“Sal has spent years looking for Gabriel’s family. Maria moved twice. Changed her surname briefly after a marriage that did not last. If he discovered she was working for you, he may have used the opportunity to return Elena’s message.”
“Then why plant forged documents too?”
“He may not have.”
Nicholas paused.
Two people.
One corridor.
One planting evidence against Maria.
Another hiding evidence for Nicholas.
The timeline suddenly made sense.
“Who else entered the room?”
Caterina could not answer.
Nicholas’s phone rang.
Grant.
“Sal’s awake,” he said.
Nicholas was already reaching for his coat.
The hospital had placed Salvatore Rizzo under a false name on a private floor.
Two Caruso men guarded the elevator. Another sat outside the room.
Sal looked twenty years older than he had three days earlier.
Bandage around his head. Bruising along one cheek. Oxygen beneath his nose.
When Nicholas entered, Sal opened one eye.
“You took your time.”
Nicholas pulled a chair beside the bed.
“Did you hide the drive in Lucy’s rabbit?”
Sal’s eye closed.
“Straight to business. Your father would be proud.”
“My father is becoming less impressive by the hour.”
That produced the ghost of a smile.
“Yes,” Sal whispered. “I put it there.”
“Why a child’s toy?”
“Because I heard someone coming. I had seconds.”
“Who?”
“Man in maintenance clothes. Didn’t see his face.”
“The forged papers?”
“Not mine.”
“Did you know Maria was Gabriel’s sister?”
Sal looked at him.
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Three weeks.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I was trying to figure out why she was there.”
“She was looking for answers.”
“So was I.”
Nicholas leaned forward.
“Where is Gabriel?”
Sal looked toward the window.
“Alive.”
Nicholas stared.
“Say that again.”
“Gabriel Santos is alive.”
Nicholas stood.
“Where?”
“Connecticut. Facility outside Litchfield.”
“What facility?”
“Private rehabilitation center owned through one of Harrow’s companies. Adrian kept him drugged, discredited, legally incompetent. Easier than killing him. Dead men create investigations. Sick men disappear politely.”
Nicholas felt sick.
“Why didn’t you get him out?”
“I tried.” Sal’s voice cracked. “That’s how I ended up here.”
Nicholas paced once.
“Does Maria know?”
“No.”
He turned toward the door.
Sal caught his sleeve weakly.
“Nicholas.”
He looked down.
“Adrian knows about the kid.”
Nicholas went very still.
“How?”
“Someone inside your house reports to him.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to stop assuming the enemy is always the person with the ugliest face.”
Nicholas thought of Vivienne.
Of the security footage.
Of staff.
Of Grant.
Of Arthur.
No.
He rejected the thought instantly.
That was precisely why it frightened him.
Sal released his sleeve.
“Get Gabriel before they move him.”
Nicholas nodded.
He made it halfway to the door before Sal spoke again.
“Elena loved you.”
Nicholas stopped.
“She also knew you,” Sal said. “There’s a difference.”
Nicholas turned slightly.
“She knew if you ever had something innocent to protect, you might finally learn that fear and love aren’t the same thing.”
Nicholas left without answering.
On the drive home, he called Maria.
She picked up on the first ring.
“Is Lucy all right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
Then he said, “Maria, I found your brother.”
Silence.
He heard her breathe in.
Not out.
“Nicholas.”
It was the first time she had used his first name.
“Is he dead?”
“No.”
A sound came through the phone that he would remember for the rest of his life.
Half sob.
Half laugh.
All hope.
“He’s alive.”
Maria began crying.
Nicholas looked out the window and let her.
Then Lucy’s voice came faintly through the phone.
“Mama, why happy crying?”
Maria tried to answer and could not.
Nicholas finally said, “We’re going to bring him home.”
May you like
And for the first time in eleven years, he did not hear Elena’s voice as a ghost.
He heard it as a direction.
