Chapter 19 #2
“We’ll be fine. Nothing’s going to happen. We’ll fly home tomorrow as soon as the will has been read,” Salvatore said.
A maid came then, and Roman instructed her to take Gia and me up to our room.
“Why don’t you go ahead? I need to talk to my brother.”
“Lucia, maybe you can go help Gia,” Salvatore started.
“I know when I’m being excused,” Lucia said. “Come on. You look like you like this about as much as I do,” she said to Gia. The two of them turned and followed the maid up the stairs.
Salvatore and I walked toward the dining room.
“A man named Henderson who claims he was a friend of father has requested a secret meeting with us,” he said in a quiet voice. “He said it’s urgent. He wants to meet before the funeral if we can. Definitely prior to the reading of the will.”
“Why?”
“Another body turned up. I’m not sure if Roman is aware just yet.”
“Body?”
“Same brand. Ours.” He paused. “He was a federal agent. Henderson believes he was Mateo Castellano’s source.”
“A fucking federal agent? Branded with the Benedetti name?”
Salvatore nodded.
“Who is this guy, Henderson?”
“I’m not sure. He did some work for father over the last few months. Roman doesn’t know about him apparently.”
“Urgent meeting?”
Salvatore nodded. “I think we should go before the funeral. We’ll leave together, the four of us, and meet at Henderson’s home office.
He was adamant no one would know. He seemed…
nervous. Rumors are circulating, Dominic.
The family has weakened, and with father’s death, our enemies are becoming less and less subtle.
The method of Mateo Castellano’s death has brought unwanted attention to the family.
And now, with a federal agent’s dead body turning up, there will be more. ”
“I heard the recording Mateo made. At least what he got out before he was killed.”
“And?”
“Scava names Roman. They were in this thing together. Roman is part of the human trafficking ring.”
“How? Father would never have approved that.”
“Maybe he was working alone. I know that was one thing the family did not dip their toes into. That’s a whole other ballgame.”
Salvatore nodded. Franco had always been adamant about that. I didn’t know the reasons behind it but hadn’t ever given it much thought.
“From what I could make out, Scava wants people to believe it was Roman who put the hit on Mateo. And now, I assume the federal agent as well. Why? If they were in on this thing together, why? Unless he wanted Roman out.”
We looked over at Roman, who appeared out of another room just then, talking to an older woman with a bereaved expression on his face.
“Snake.”
“Be careful, Dominic. Don’t let on that you know. Although bringing Mateo’s sister may have clued him in. Why did you do that? Not really your smartest move.”
“No. But I wasn’t going to leave her alone either. Victor Scava wants her. He’s apparently already bought her. The auction is just a formality. A humbling.”
Salvatore flinched, his mouth curling in distaste.
“She stays by my side,” I added.
“If I didn’t know any better—”
“She has my protection, that’s all.”
“What’s going on with the auction?”
I grinned. “I’m guessing phones will start lighting up tomorrow around the time of the church service.”
“You called it in?”
I nodded.
“Anyone know where the information came from?”
“No.” I paused, and we both turned to watch our uncle. “Roman’s involvement will be confirmed tomorrow.”
“Let’s go upstairs. I know Lucia doesn’t want to be alone.” He paused. “Memories of the last time,” he said, his gaze sliding toward the dining-room.
I recalled and didn’t miss the note of shame in my brother’s words, in his face, or in his behavior.
“I just need to get our bags,” I said.
“I’ll help you.”
Salvatore and I carried the two overnight bags upstairs and parted ways at my door. I watched Salvatore disappear down the hallway and into his room. After a brief knock, I opened my old bedroom door to find Gia standing by the window, biting her fingernail.
“Lots of people coming,” she said.
“It’ll just be family tonight. You don’t need to look for Scava.”
She picked up the tin of cookies that I assumed Lucia had given her.
“Here. These are for you. And there’s a note.”
I took the envelope and the tin out of her hand and sat on the edge of the bed, just looking down at the things on my lap.
I touched the lid, tracing the brightly-colored pattern there.
Then I opened it to find a pile of chocolate-chip cookies.
I offered Gia one. She shook her head and watched me, one hand at her neck, her fingers rubbing her chin.
I chose a cookie and bit into it. My throat closed up, seven years’ worth of emotion I’d kept bottled up coming up now, threatening to choke me.
It took all I had to swallow the bite before I set the rest of the cookie back in the tin, not tasting a thing.
“I’ll give you a minute,” Gia said, disappearing into the bathroom.
I set the tin aside and took the letter out of the envelope. Her handwriting was pretty, very different to that of the small child who’d written in huge block letters way back when. Now, she wrote in a neat script.
Dear Uncle Dominic,
Thank you for all the toys and clothes and things you send me every month. When I heard Lucia would see you, I wanted her to give this to you.
Mom told me why you had to go away like you did.
She told me the real story of what happened that night.
I want you to know that I don’t think Salvatore is still mad at you.
I know because sometimes I get up for a drink of water and overhear things.
Not that I’m eavesdropping or something.
I just overhear by accident. Besides, I think Uncle Salvatore just misses you, and you should know that.
No one is mad at you. We all miss you, especially me.
Well, maybe Aunt Lucia is a little mad, but she just needs to get to know you like I know you, and the only way she can do that is if you come for visits.
You can even stay with us. And maybe I am a little mad too, since you just up and left without saying bye to me.
But I’ll forgive you if you come. Promise. Okay?
I love you, Uncle Dominic.
Effie
PS: I hope you like the cookies.
PPS: I got a phone for my 11th birthday. This is my number if you want to call me.
I read the letter twice, memorizing the phone number, the surge of emotion as I heard her little voice through her words breaking my heart but also filling me with hope. How did she not hate me for having up and left? How could she forgive me?
How had I created something so good?
I had to smile at the eavesdropping piece.
She was my daughter through and through.
And I wondered at the gifts. I sent money monthly.
I never sent things, though. Did Isabella buy them and say they were from me?
She’d do anything for her daughter. She loved her fiercely. Would she even cover for my lack?
Gia returned from the bathroom and sat down beside me on the bed. I didn’t pull the letter away when her gaze fell on it.
“Will you ever tell her the truth?”
“I don’t know.”
“She loves you. And she has a right to know.”
I folded up the letter and tucked it into my pocket, rising to stand. “She’s safer if my enemies don’t know about her.” I walked over to look out the window at the growing number of cars. “And after tomorrow, I will have enemies.”
Gia came to stand by my side.
“This is only just beginning, Gia.”
The four of us left early the following morning, filling Lucia and Gia in on the way there.
“The agent, do you know his name?” Gia asked.
“David Lazaro. Ring a bell?”
“He was Mateo’s contact.”
“Roman will have found out by now,” I said.
“No doubt. Henderson’s house is here to the left.” We parked around the corner of a beautiful, not too large house and climbed out, the early morning damp and chilly. We walked to the house in silence. The old man, Mr. Henderson, greeted us, obviously surprised by the presence of the women.
“Ladies, you’ll stay here while we meet?” Salvatore said as if he were asking the question.
“My housekeeper will make coffee,” Mr. Henderson said.
With that, we went into his office and closed the door.
“Thank you for coming. I know we don’t have much time, so I’ll get right to business. First, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
Salvatore answered while I tried to keep my face hard and unexpressive as stone.
“I realize you don’t know me, but I used to work for an agency where I had access to certain…things.”
“What sort of things?”
“Surveillance. Video, audio, a few other things.”
We both sat there, confused. “I’m sorry—” Salvatore began, but Henderson cut him off.
“We’ll get to it. But first, the will. What will be read this afternoon will come as a surprise to your uncle. I know for a fact he is unaware of this last change made just days before your father’s death.”
“What change?” I asked. “And how do you know about it?”
“I stood witness. Your father trusted me.”
“Mr. Henderson, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” Salvatore said.
“You will.” Henderson turned to me. “Dominic, your father is naming you as his successor.”
The words slammed into me. “What?”
“It was his wish that you become head of the Benedetti family.”
“But—”
Salvatore put a hand on my forearm. “Everything has been decided already. I signed over power to Roman,” he told Henderson.
He shook his head. “Your father was living when you did that. He has the final say. And he has spoken.”
“You’re going to take everything away from Roman?” Salvatore asked.
“Not me. Your father.”
“Why me? I’m not even—” I started.
Henderson turned to me. “Franco Benedetti is named as your father on your birth certificate. You are his son, raised as a Benedetti. And you are named as head of the family.”
“What happens to Roman?”
“He’s cut off. He won’t inherit a cent.”
“Why?” Salvatore asked. “Why this sudden change?”