Chapter 13 - THE APARTMENT I COULD NEVER GO HOME TO
My apartment had always been ugly.
Cracked paint.
Noisy radiator.
Tiny kitchen.
But it was ours.
Marcus's drawings covered the refrigerator.
His shoes were always in the hallway.
His dinosaur blanket stayed on the couch no matter how many times I folded it.
Now Carlo had turned our home into a trap.
Police evacuated the building.
Bomb technicians prepared.
Carlo refused to leave.
He wanted me.
“I’m going in,” I said.
Thomas looked at me.
“No.”
I stared.
He exhaled.
“Sorry. Reflex.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
Detective Monroe spoke.
“We're not sending you inside without a plan.”
Carlo called.
I answered on speaker.
“Jean.”
“Why my apartment?”
“Because this is where Elena's victory became visible.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“You survived without us.”
His voice contained something like disgust.
“You were supposed to need the family.”
“I did fine.”
“You waited tables.”
“And raised a good kid.”
Silence.
That bothered him.
I understood.
Carlo wanted power to be necessary.
I was proof it wasn't.
“Come upstairs.”
“No.”
“The bomb is connected to the building gas line.”
Detective Monroe's expression changed.
Carlo continued.
“One wrong move and everyone loses.”
My stomach turned.
Thomas whispered,
“He's bluffing.”
The bomb technician shook his head.
Maybe not.
I looked at Thomas.
“I have to go.”
He took my hand.
“If you go, I'm beside you.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“My turn.”
He almost argued.
Then stopped.
Growth.
“I need him focused on me,” I said.
“And if he shoots you?”
“He won't.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he wants me to understand him.”
Thomas hated that I was right.
I entered with an audio transmitter hidden beneath my blouse.
Carlo sat at the table.
The bomb beside him.
“Sit.”
I did.
He looked older than before.
Not powerful.
Just tired.
“You have Elena's eyes.”
“So everyone tells me.”
“She ruined everything.”
“No. You did.”
His jaw tightened.
“You think Thomas is different?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he stopped.”
Carlo frowned.
“Stopped what?”
“Becoming you.”
The words landed.
I continued.
“You taught every man in your family that power meant hurting whoever stood in the way.”
Carlo smiled coldly.
“And yet you're alive because of that power.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I'm alive because people kept choosing to protect me from you.”
His face twisted.
Gabriel.
Elena.
Giovanni.
Thomas.
Even Richard eventually.
Carlo stood.
“You think love makes people strong?”
“Yes.”
“It makes them stupid.”
He reached toward the detonator.
I didn't move.
“Then why are you still talking to me?”
He stopped.
I saw it.
He wanted recognition.
He wanted one person to tell him everything had been justified.
I never would.
“You're afraid,” I said.
His eyes hardened.
“Of what?”
“Being forgotten.”
Silence.
“You built all this because you thought fear would make people remember you.”
His hand trembled.
“But the people who loved us will be remembered longer.”
He stared at me.
Then a sound came through the hallway.
Thomas.
“She's right.”
Carlo spun.
“You.”
Thomas stepped into view.
Unarmed.
I almost yelled.
Carlo raised the detonator.
Thomas didn't move.
“You want someone to remember you?”
His voice was calm.
“I will.”
Carlo stared.
“Every day.”
Thomas continued.
“I'll remember what you did.”
“And?”
“And I'll spend the rest of my life doing the opposite.”
Carlo's face broke.
Just slightly.
Enough.
Police moved.
Thomas grabbed me.
Officers tackled Carlo.
The detonator fell.
I screamed.
Nothing exploded.
The bomb team rushed in.
Thirty seconds later, we learned the device had been disconnected.
Carlo had never intended to destroy the building.
He wanted an audience.
He wanted control.
And for the first time, nobody gave it to him.
Outside, Marcus ran toward me.
I held him so tightly he complained.
“Mom. Breathing.”
“Deal with it.”
Thomas stood nearby.
He looked at us.
Something soft crossed his face.
Then Marcus waved him over.
Thomas hesitated.
“Come on.”
Thomas approached.
Marcus hugged him too.
Thomas froze.
Then slowly put one arm around him.
My heart tightened.
But the moment didn't last.
Detective Monroe approached.
“Jean.”
I turned.
“What?”
She held an evidence bag.
Inside was a key.
“Carlo had this in his pocket.”
Elena saw it.
Her face went white.
“No.”
“What?”
She whispered,
“That opens Gabriel's old house.”
Gabriel frowned.
“My house was demolished.”
Elena shook her head.
“Not the basement.”
Thomas looked at her.
“What is down there?”
May you like
Elena's answer was barely audible.
“The bodies.”
