Chapter 6 - THE MOTHER WHO WATCHED ME STRUGGLE
I slapped Gabriel.
Hard.
The sound echoed through the warehouse.
Thomas didn't stop me.
Gabriel barely moved.
“You told me she was dead.”
“No.”
“You let me believe it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she asked me to.”
I wanted to hit him again.
Instead, I stepped backward.
My hands shook.
“My mother died when I was seventeen.”
“No.”
“I saw her body.”
“You saw a closed coffin.”
I froze.
He was right.
The funeral director told me injuries from the car accident were too severe.
My knees weakened.
Thomas caught my elbow.
“Sit.”
“No.”
“Jean.”
“Stop telling me what to do.”
He immediately released me.
“Okay.”
I looked at Gabriel.
“Where is she?”
“She moves.”
“Where?”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated.
“Brooklyn.”
My laugh came out broken.
“Of course.”
Thirty minutes away.
For fourteen years, my dead mother had been thirty minutes away.
“Did she know about Marcus?”
“Yes.”
I stared.
“Did she know I was struggling?”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
That hurt more than anything.
The rent notices.
The unpaid bills.
The nights Marcus ate dinner while I claimed I wasn't hungry.
The day I sold my wedding ring from a marriage that never happened because I needed school supplies.
She knew.
And stayed away.
I felt Thomas beside me.
Not touching.
Just present.
It helped more than I wanted to admit.
“Take me to her.”
Gabriel nodded.
The Brooklyn building looked ordinary.
Brown brick.
Narrow stairs.
A flower shop below.
We reached the third floor.
Gabriel knocked.
The door opened.
My mother stood there.
Older.
Gray in her hair.
A scar across one cheek.
But unmistakably Elena.
I couldn't breathe.
“Jean.”
She started crying.
I didn't.
Not yet.
“You're alive.”
“Yes.”
“You watched me bury you.”
Her face broke.
“I know.”
“You knew about Marcus.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I was broke.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She reached toward me.
I stepped back.
“Don't.”
Her hand fell.
“I stayed away because everyone near me died.”
“That's not true.”
“My father.”
She stopped.
“Giovanni?”
I stared.
“You know.”
She nodded.
“He helped me after Gabriel disappeared.”
“What happened to him?”
Her face went pale.
“Russo.”
Another lie shattered.
My grandfather hadn't died naturally.
I laughed bitterly.
“Is anyone in my life actually dead for the reason I was told?”
No one answered.
Thomas looked toward Elena.
“Why didn't you contact Jean after Russo disappeared from New York?”
“He didn't disappear.”
Thomas's expression sharpened.
“What?”
“He changed sides.”
“With who?”
Elena looked at Gabriel.
Then at Thomas.
“Your father.”
Thomas stared.
“My father died twenty-two years ago.”
Elena shook her head.
“No.”
The room went silent.
Thomas whispered,
“What did you say?”
“Your father staged his death.”
Gabriel looked furious.
“You told me Carlo was dead.”
“I thought he was.”
Elena's hands shook.
“I found out three months ago.”
I looked between them.
This family apparently considered funerals optional.
Thomas stepped forward.
“Where is he?”
Elena's face drained of color.
“I don't know.”
Then a floorboard creaked behind us.
Everyone turned.
A gunshot exploded.
Gabriel fell.
I screamed.
Thomas pulled me down.
The apartment window shattered.
Elena crawled toward Gabriel.
Blood spread across his shoulder.
Thomas's men rushed toward the stairs.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.
A photograph of Marcus.
This time, he wasn't in the safe house.
He was sitting in the back of a car.
Beside him was Richard Hail.
May you like
Below the image were six words.
Your mother chose wrong again, Jean.
