Chapter 8

Two days later, the sun broke through the clouds over the Moretti estate.

The massive dining room had been completely scrubbed clean. The broken glass was gone. The dark, heavy velvet curtains Vanessa had always loved had been pulled down and thrown into the fire.

Sunlight poured through the clean windows, illuminating the long wooden table.

Ethan sat in the chair Vanessa had tried to kick him out of. He was happily eating a massive stack of pancakes, his two brass compasses lined up neatly next to his plate.

Mateo sat beside him, wearing a fresh, clean shirt. His bruises were fading. His hand rested firmly on my knee under the table, holding on to me as if he was afraid I would vanish if he let go.

I poured coffee into Gabriel’s mug.

Gabriel sat at the head of the table. His arm was in a sling, but the heavy, dark circles under his eyes were completely gone. He looked peaceful.

“The board of directors accepted Vanessa’s confession,” Gabriel said, taking a sip of the coffee. “She cut a deal. She gave up everyone in her father’s syndicate to avoid a life sentence. The Bellinis are finished. Silas’s accounts have been frozen and seized by the feds.”

“And the family business?” Mateo asked quietly.

Gabriel smiled. “Legitimate. One hundred percent. I sold the casinos, shut down the ports. We’re moving entirely into real estate and logistics. No more blood money. No more hiding.”

Mateo let out a long breath, squeezing my knee.

For the first time in my life, I felt truly safe. My son was sitting at a billionaire’s table, laughing, loved, and protected by the two most dangerous men in the city, who had just sworn to never be dangerous again.

Gabriel stood up and walked over to the grand fireplace.

He looked up at the portrait of Leo.

“Leo saved us all,” Gabriel whispered. “He knew Silas was the rot inside this family. He gave his life so we could have ours.”

Gabriel reached behind the heavy gold frame of the portrait.

He pulled out a small, dust-covered wooden box.

“Leo gave me this the night before he died,” Gabriel said, bringing the box to the table. “He told me never to open it until the rot was gone. Until I knew who my real family was.”

Gabriel set the box on the table between us.

He popped the small brass latch and opened the lid.

Inside lay a stack of old letters, tied with a simple black ribbon.

Gabriel untied the ribbon and pulled out the top letter. He unfolded it. As he read the words, his eyes widened. He looked up at Mateo, entirely stunned.

“What is it?” I asked.

Gabriel slowly slid the letter across the table.

It was a birth certificate.

But the name at the top wasn’t Leo’s. It wasn’t Gabriel’s.

It read: Mateo Moretti.

Mateo stared at the paper, the blood draining from his face.

“Your father,” Gabriel whispered, staring at his best friend. “He wasn’t the driver. He was my father’s older brother.”