Chapter 14 - MATTEO’S FIRST DAY WITHOUT THE CAMERA
Matteo’s first full day at school terrified me more than any business war.
No private camera.
No live monitor.
No guard inside.
One security officer stayed outside campus because threats had not disappeared entirely.
But Matteo entered the building alone except for a classroom aide assigned by the school.
He wore a red backpack.
Hated the haircut I chose.
Insisted on pushing his own wheelchair up the ramp.
Halfway, he turned.
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“Go.”
I stood.
He made a shooing motion.
“Seriously.”
So I went.
I sat in the car for twenty minutes.
Then drove away.
That was harder than the bombing.
Not because danger was greater.
Because control was gone.
At 3:05, Matteo came out smiling.
A girl beside him.
Brown braids.
She waved.
Matteo looked embarrassed.
I said nothing.
Growth.
In rehabilitation, he gained remarkable upper-body strength.
Could transfer independently.
Dress himself.
Prepare simple food.
Use adaptive equipment.
Dr. Lewis introduced wheelchair basketball.
He hated it for ten minutes.
Then became obsessed.
Walking was never promised.
That stopped mattering.
Not because loss disappeared.
Because life grew around it.
One evening, he said:
“I had a dream I ran.”
My chest tightened.
“Was it good?”
“Yeah.”
“Sad when you woke up?”
He thought.
“Little.”
Then:
“But I’m fast in chair.”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
That was healing.
Not pretending.
Not miracle.
Living.
Then Clara called.
Her Boston contract ended in six weeks.
My heart accelerated.
I said nothing stupid.
Mostly.
“What next?”
“I have offers.”
“Where?”
“Boston. New York. Providence.”
Providence.
I tried not to react.
She laughed.
“You’re terrible at hiding things.”
“What things?”
“Hope.”
I looked away though she could not see me.
“Providence has a pediatric rehab opening,” she said.
“Good program?”
“Very.”
“Take whichever is best.”
Silence.
Then:
“You really mean that.”
“Yes.”
“That’s inconvenient.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted you to make the wrong answer easier to reject.”
I laughed.
“Sorry.”
“No, you aren’t.”
Then she became serious.
“If I come back, I’m not moving into Rourke House.”
“I sold it.”
Silence.
“You what?”
I had not told her.
The mansion.
Sixty acres.
Cameras.
Memory.
Gone.
I sold most of the property to a coastal conservation trust and kept ten acres with a smaller house.
No underground control room.
No marble fortress.
Matteo chose his bedroom.
Big windows.
Ground floor.
Direct access to garden.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Clara asked.
“Wanted to know if you came back for the house.”
She laughed.
“Very funny.”
“Wasn’t joking.”
“Vincent.”
“Partly joking.”
Then:
“What does the new place look like?”
“Normal.”
“You don’t know what normal means.”
Fair.
“Come see.”
A week later, she did.
Matteo gave the tour.
Kitchen.
Garden.
Therapy room.
Guest room.
Then my study.
No hidden cameras.
Clara checked anyway.
I watched.
“Trust issues?”
“You trained me.”
Then she saw one object on my desk.
Elena’s letter.
I did not hide it.
She did not read it.
Good.
Instead she looked at me.
“Is there space here for something new?”
The question was not about furniture.
I answered carefully.
“Yes.”
She nodded.
Then kissed me.
Not dramatic.
No audience.
No promise.
Enough.
Later that evening, Matteo called from the living room:
“Are you kissing?”
Clara shouted:
“Go back to your game.”
He yelled:
“Gross.”
I laughed.
The house sounded alive.
Then Dominic arrived.
His face serious.
Mercer had agreed to plead guilty to multiple charges.
No trial for Matteo.
No repeated testimony.
Elena’s evidence and Daniel’s cooperation had been enough.
I felt relief.
Then Dominic added:
“Mercer gave them one final statement.”
“What?”
“He claims someone inside the Rossi family originally introduced him to Daniel Hayes.”
My body tightened.
“Who?”
Dominic looked at me.
“Your father.”
May you like
My father had been dead nine years.
But apparently, the chain that destroyed our family began long before the bomb.
