Chapter 4 - The Man Who Knew My Father
I had been nineteen when my father died.
Michael Sullivan.
Electrician.
Union worker.
The kind of man who left coffee cups everywhere and always remembered to call my mother before he drove home.
The police told us a faulty lift at a construction site collapsed.
My mother never questioned it.
Neither did I.
Now a stranger stood in Luca Moretti’s study telling me the accident had been a lie.
“You have the wrong person.”
“No.”
He reached inside his coat.
Dante lunged.
The man froze.
“Easy.”
I grabbed Dante’s collar.
“Slowly.”
The man removed a photograph.
My father stood beside Salvatore Moretti.
Behind them were Bruno and Dante.
I stopped breathing.
“What is this?”
“Your father worked for Salvatore.”
“No. He worked construction.”
“That was his public job.”
My hands shook.
The man gave me the photograph.
On the back, my father had written:
Emma, if you ever see these dogs together, trust Luca.
I stared at the handwriting.
I knew every curve.
Every letter.
My father had written birthday cards exactly like that.
The study doors burst open.
Marco entered with two security guards.
They forced the man to the floor.
“No!” I shouted.
Luca appeared.
The lights flickered back on.
“Who is he?”
The stranger looked up.
“Thomas Reed.”
Luca went still.
“You worked for my father.”
Thomas nodded.
“Until he died.”
Luca looked at me.
I handed him the photograph.
He read the message.
Then his eyes returned to Thomas.
“Explain.”
Thomas sat under guard.
He told us Salvatore Moretti had discovered members of his own organization were laundering money through legitimate construction companies.
Carlo Bellini was involved.
So was Dr. Caldwell.
So were several officials.
Michael Sullivan had been maintaining electrical systems at one of those properties when he accidentally discovered a hidden server room.
Instead of killing him, Salvatore recruited him.
My father became one of the few outsiders Salvatore trusted.
He built electrical locks.
Hidden rooms.
Secure storage systems.
Including room 314.
“And 315?” I asked.
Thomas looked at the brass tag in my hand.
“Your father’s room.”
My knees weakened.
Luca caught my elbow.
I pulled away automatically.
Not because I feared him.
Because suddenly everything I had believed about my family felt false.
“Where?”
Thomas looked toward the mansion.
“In this house.”
Luca frowned.
“I know every room here.”
“No, you know every room your father wanted you to know.”
Vanessa appeared at the study entrance.
Two guards followed.
When she saw Thomas, she stopped.
“You.”
He looked at her.
“You were supposed to keep the dogs alive.”
Her face tightened.
“I did.”
“You tried to remove them.”
“I tried to keep them away from my father.”
Thomas laughed bitterly.
“Seven years late.”
Luca stepped between them.
“Enough.”
He took tag 315.
“Show me.”
Thomas led us to the oldest part of the mansion.
A basement wine cellar.
Behind a rack of Bordeaux bottles was another keyhole.
315 fit.
The wall opened.
Inside was a room no larger than a closet.
On a table sat a metal case.
My name was written on it.
EMMA SULLIVAN.
My breath disappeared.
I opened it.
Inside was an old digital recorder.
Three envelopes.
A bank document.
And a letter.
For my daughter.
I couldn’t move.
Luca stood behind me.
“You don’t have to open it tonight.”
“Yes.”
My voice broke.
“Yes, I do.”
The letter was dated nine years earlier.
Two years before my father died.
Emma,
If you are reading this, then something went wrong.
I wanted you and your mother far away from this life.
I made choices I’m not proud of, but one choice I will never regret was helping Salvatore Moretti expose the men stealing from him and hurting innocent people to protect themselves.
If anything happens to me, do not trust Carlo Bellini.
Do not trust Henry Caldwell.
And if Salvatore is gone too, find Luca.
He may not be the man his enemies say he is.
But most importantly, find Bruno and Dante.
Together, they remember what men forget.
Dad.
I began crying before I reached the end.
Quietly.
I hated crying in front of people.
Luca turned away, giving me privacy.
That small act nearly broke me more than the letter.
Thomas pointed toward the recorder.
“Play it.”
I pressed the button.
My father’s voice filled the room.
Older.
Tired.
Real.
“If this recording is being heard, then Carlo found part of the ledger.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“But he didn’t find everything.”
A pause.
“The complete evidence is stored where neither Carlo nor Salvatore’s own men can reach it.”
Luca leaned closer.
My father continued.
“Bruno carries the route.”
“Dante carries the key.”
“Emma carries the final access.”
I stared at the recorder.
“What does that mean?”
Then my father answered as if he could hear me.
“The password is the thing I told my daughter every night before bed.”
I knew it instantly.
My heart slammed.
Three words.
Be brave, kiddo.
Then the recorder continued.
“But there is one more problem.”
Everyone leaned in.
“Someone inside Luca’s home has been helping Carlo Bellini.”
The recording clicked.
Then my father gave a name.
May you like
And Luca slowly turned toward the man standing beside him.
“Marco DeLuca.”
