Chapter 15 - The Truth Beneath the Name
For one terrible second, I forgot we were being hunted.
I forgot the men charging down the stairs.
The locked garage.
The chemical fumes.
The gunshot wound burning beneath my bandage.
All I could hear was Matteo's voice.
I don't think Daniel Bennett is your biological father.
I stared at him.
"What?"
He took my hand.
"Later."
"No."
"Clara."
"You don't get to say something like that and then tell me later!"
Leo grabbed my shoulder.
"Both of you, move!"
A door slammed above us.
Footsteps thundered down the stairs.
Matteo pulled me behind him.
"Run."
We sprinted upward.
My lungs burned.
My injured arm throbbed.
I could hear men shouting below.
Then a gunshot cracked.
Concrete chipped near the railing.
I screamed.
Matteo shoved me through a door on the next landing.
We stumbled into a narrow maintenance hallway.
Leo slammed the door and threw the emergency bolt.
"How long?" Matteo asked.
"Not long."
Matteo looked around.
Then pointed toward a service elevator.
"Utility access."
Leo nodded.
"Maintenance roof."
I stared at them.
"Roof?"
Matteo took my hand.
"Come on."
I yanked it free.
"No."
He turned.
"Clara."
I stepped closer.
"You are going to tell me what you meant."
His eyes flashed.
"Right now, I'm trying to keep you alive."
"And right now, I'm trying to figure out who my father is!"
The hallway went silent.
Even Leo stopped moving.
I swallowed hard.
My voice broke.
"I spent twenty-six years thinking he was dead."
I pressed my hand against my chest.
"Then I found out he might be alive."
A tear slipped down my cheek.
"Then I found out he might be a criminal."
I looked at Matteo.
"And now you're telling me he might not even be my father?"
Matteo's expression changed.
All the anger disappeared.
"Clara."
I shook my head.
"No more half-truths."
A heavy impact struck the door.
Leo swore.
"Boss!"
Matteo looked toward him.
Then back at me.
He took a breath.
"Your mother told me something four years ago."
I stared.
"What?"
"She said Daniel had taken credit for something that wasn't his."
My mouth went dry.
"What does that mean?"
"At the time, I thought she meant the archive."
Another impact struck the door.
Metal groaned.
Matteo continued.
"Now I think she meant you."
I felt sick.
"Who is my father?"
Matteo hesitated.
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
"No."
"Then why would your father be listed as my guardian?"
"Because he owed your mother something."
"What?"
Matteo's eyes darkened.
"A debt."
I laughed hysterically.
"A debt?"
He nodded.
"My father owed Eleanor Bennett his life."
I stared.
"How?"
Before he could answer, the door burst inward.
Leo shoved us toward the service elevator.
"GO!"
We ran.
Matteo pushed the elevator button.
Nothing.
He slammed it again.
The doors remained closed.
I looked behind us.
Three armed men entered the hallway.
Leo fired toward the floor near their cover, forcing them to retreat.
Matteo grabbed a maintenance ladder mounted beside the elevator shaft.
"Up."
I stared.
"You're kidding."
"Clara."
"Do I look like someone who climbs industrial ladders for fun?"
He looked at the approaching men.
"Today you do."
I climbed.
Pain shot through my arm.
I bit back a scream.
Matteo followed directly beneath me.
"Keep going."
"I'm trying."
"Three more rungs."
"Stop counting!"
He almost laughed.
Then a gunshot echoed below.
Leo shouted.
"Boss, hurry!"
We reached the roof hatch.
Matteo pushed it open.
Cold air slammed into my face.
I crawled onto the rooftop.
Boston spread around us in gray morning light.
The harbor shimmered beyond the buildings.
Far below, traffic moved as though the world hadn't fallen apart.
I stood shakily.
Matteo climbed out behind me.
Leo followed.
Then closed the hatch.
He wedged a steel bar through the handle.
"That buys us a minute."
I looked at Matteo.
"Now what?"
He checked his phone.
"No signal."
"Of course."
Leo looked toward the neighboring building.
A narrow pedestrian bridge connected the rooftops.
Matteo pointed.
"Across."
I stared.
"That thing looks older than my mother's television."
"It's reinforced."
"That's what people say right before something collapses."
Matteo stepped onto the bridge first.
It held.
He turned.
"Clara."
I looked down.
Bad idea.
Very bad idea.
The street seemed impossibly far away.
My stomach rolled.
"I hate heights."
Matteo extended his hand.
"Look at me."
I shook my head.
"Can't."
"Clara."
His voice softened.
"Look at me."
I raised my eyes.
He stood in the center of the bridge.
Wind tugged at his shirt.
His hair was disheveled.
There was blood on his collar.
And somehow he looked completely steady.
"One step," he said.
I swallowed.
"One step."
I moved.
The bridge creaked.
I froze.
Matteo held out his hand.
"Good."
Another step.
Then another.
Halfway across, a gunshot cracked behind us.
The railing sparked.
I screamed.
Matteo lunged forward.
He wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me against him.
"Don't look back."
We ran.
The bridge shook beneath us.
Leo followed, firing toward the roof hatch to cover our escape.
We reached the neighboring building.
Matteo pushed me through the access door.
We tumbled into a stairwell.
Leo slammed the door behind us.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then I started laughing.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I was exhausted.
Because I was scared.
Because I'd nearly died on a rooftop before breakfast.
Matteo stared at me.
"Clara?"
I covered my mouth.
"I'm sorry."
He looked alarmed.
"Are you hurt?"
I shook my head.
"No."
Then I laughed harder.
He stepped closer.
"What is it?"
I looked up at him.
"My birthday."
His expression softened.
"What about it?"
"I was supposed to go home after work."
My voice cracked.
"Eat leftover pizza."
I wiped my eyes.
"Maybe watch a movie with Mom over the phone."
Matteo said nothing.
"Instead, I've been shot at, accused of murder, chased across rooftops, and informed that my entire family history might be fictional."
A tear rolled down my cheek.
I laughed again.
"Happy birthday to me."
Matteo looked at me for a long moment.
Then he pulled me into his arms.
I went still.
He didn't squeeze too tightly.
Didn't force me closer.
He simply held me.
Warm.
Steady.
Alive.
For a moment, I let myself rest against him.
His heartbeat was fast.
Faster than I expected.
He was afraid.
Not of the men chasing us.
Not of losing control.
Of losing me.
That realization frightened me more than it should have.
"Matteo," I whispered.
"Yes?"
"Why?"
He lowered his head.
"Why what?"
"Why are you risking everything for me?"
He was silent.
Then he answered.
"Because twenty-six years ago, your mother saved a boy who didn't deserve saving."
I closed my eyes.
"Matteo."
"And because when I saw you standing in that nightclub, shouting at me over broken glasses, I realized something."
I pulled back slightly.
"What?"
His expression softened.
"For the first time in years, someone looked at me and saw a man."
I swallowed.
"Not a monster?"
He gave a faint smile.
"Not a king."
I stared at him.
"Just an idiot standing in broken glass?"
His smile widened.
"Exactly."
A strange warmth spread through my chest.
Then his expression turned serious.
"I don't know what happens after this."
I nodded.
"Neither do I."
"But I know one thing."
"What?"
"I'm not letting them decide your future."
I looked at him.
For one dangerous second, I wanted to kiss him.
The thought shocked me.
He was Matteo Conti.
A criminal.
A man with blood on his hands.
A man whose family had helped destroy mine.
And somehow, in the middle of the worst two days of my life, he'd become the person I wanted beside me.
I stepped back.
Not because I didn't feel anything.
Because I felt too much.
"We need to find Mom."
Matteo nodded.
"Yes."
Leo checked his phone.
"Boss."
We turned.
"What?"
"I have something."
He held out the screen.
A message had arrived through an encrypted channel.
No sender.
No location.
Just a photograph.
My mother sat beside a hospital bed.
She was holding someone's hand.
A man lay beneath a white blanket.
His face was partly hidden.
But I recognized the silver hair.
The crooked smile.
Daniel Bennett.
My throat closed.
"Is he hurt?"
Leo zoomed in.
"I don't know."
Then a second image arrived.
An old newspaper clipping.
HAWTHORNE FIRE CLAIMS SEVENTEEN LIVES
Beneath it was a handwritten note.
Seventeen bodies were recovered.
Eighteen names were removed from the payroll.
I stared.
"What does that mean?"
Matteo went completely still.
Leo looked up.
"Boss?"
Matteo didn't answer.
He took the phone.
Zoomed in on the clipping.
Then whispered something in Italian.
I looked at him.
"What?"
His face had gone pale.
"Clara."
"What?"
"There were seventeen victims."
"I know."
"No."
He swallowed.
"Seventeen bodies."
My heart pounded.
"And?"
He looked straight at me.
"Your father wasn't the only person who disappeared that night."
I stared at him.
"Who else?"
Matteo's expression changed.
It was the look of a man who had finally found the answer to a question he'd been asking for years.
"My father had a younger brother."
I frowned.
"Vittorio."
"No."
My breath stopped.
"Another one?"
Matteo nodded slowly.
"His name was Gabriel Conti."
I stared.
"I've never heard of him."
"Neither has anyone outside the family."
"Why?"
Matteo looked at the photograph of Daniel Bennett.
"Because Gabriel was supposed to have died in the Hawthorne fire."
A cold feeling spread through me.
"And?"
Matteo's voice dropped.
"Gabriel was working with Eleanor Bennett before the fire."
My hands began trembling.
"Working with her how?"
He hesitated.
Then said the words that changed everything.
"They were having an affair."
I stopped breathing.
"Matteo."
His eyes met mine.
"Clara, there's a possibility that Gabriel Conti was your biological father."
The city seemed to fall silent.
I stared at him.
"Gabriel."
He nodded.
"Yes."
I looked at the photograph again.
My mother.
Daniel.
The hidden archive.
The fire.
The music box.
Twenty-six years of secrets.
Then something occurred to me.
"If Gabriel died in the fire..."
Matteo shook his head.
"We don't know that he did."
My heart slammed.
"Then he could still be alive."
"Yes."
I stared at him.
"Where?"
Before Matteo could answer, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I looked at him.
He nodded once.
I answered.
"Hello?"
For several seconds, there was only breathing.
Then a man's voice spoke.
Deep.
Calm.
Familiar in a way that made my skin prickle.
"Clara."
I swallowed.
"Who is this?"
A pause.
Then:
"My name is Gabriel."
My knees nearly gave out.
The voice continued.
"And before Matteo Conti fills your head with his family's lies, there's something you need to know."
I gripped the phone.
"What?"
The man took a slow breath.
"Daniel Bennett isn't your father."
I closed my eyes.
"I know."
Silence.
Then the man said something I would remember for the rest of my life.
"Clara, I'm calling because your mother has finally told me the truth."
A pause.
"And because the man standing beside you is the only person in Boston who knows where I was buried."
I looked at Matteo.
He had gone deathly pale.
"Matteo?"
He didn't move.
I pressed the phone harder against my ear.
"What are you saying?"
Gabriel's voice lowered.
"Ask Matteo why his father made him watch my funeral."
The line went dead.
I stared at the screen.
Then slowly turned toward the man who had saved my life.
The man I was beginning to trust.
The man whose arms had felt like the only safe place left in Boston.
"Matteo."
He looked at me.
His expression was shattered.
"Clara."
My voice trembled.
"Tell me you didn't know."
He closed his eyes.
And that was when I understood.
He had known something about Gabriel all along.
Something he had kept from me.
Something that might destroy the fragile trust growing between us.
Matteo opened his eyes.
Then whispered:
"I was there when they buried him."
I felt sick.
"And?"
May you like
His next words stopped my heart.
"Clara, there was no body in the coffin."
