Chapter 4 - MY MOTHER CAME BACK WITH A GUN
I ran.
No one stopped me.
The front doors opened before I reached them.
Teresa stood under the stone portico.
Snow covered her hair.
The gun in her hand pointed at the ground.
I hadn’t seen my mother in eight months.
I had spent those months angry.
Now I could barely breathe.
“Mom.”
Her face crumpled.
“Bella.”
I crossed the distance between us.
She dropped the gun.
I threw my arms around her.
She held me so tightly it hurt.
I didn’t care.
“You’re alive.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Where have you been?”
She pulled back.
Her eyes moved past me.
Vincent stood in the doorway.
Teresa froze.
For several seconds, she simply stared.
Then whispered:
“Antonio’s eyes.”
Vincent looked almost as shaken.
“Teresa?”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry I never told you.”
“Is Isabella my sister?”
Teresa looked at me.
Then at him.
“Yes.”
There it was.
No test yet.
But truth in her face.
“Antonio was her father.”
Vincent closed his eyes briefly.
I felt something strange.
Not happiness.
Not grief.
Something between.
A missing piece that had arrived with too much blood around it.
Detective Russo approached slowly.
“Mrs. Romano, I need you to step away from the weapon.”
Teresa complied.
“I came to surrender it.”
“Why?”
“Because I shot Carlo DeMarco.”
Silence.
I stared.
“What?”
“He isn’t dead.”
“How do you know?”
“I missed anything important.”
Despite everything, Vincent almost smiled.
Russo did not.
“Where?”
“A warehouse in Newark.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
That explained the blood.
Carlo’s blood, perhaps.
Teresa had been hiding for three months after Carlo located her in New Jersey.
She discovered he was searching for the locket.
Then she learned Isabella had been hired for Vincent’s engagement party.
“I knew it was a trap.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” I demanded.
“Because Carlo monitored you.”
“So you let me think you disappeared?”
Her eyes filled.
“I made the same mistake everyone in this family made.”
“What mistake?”
“Deciding fear gave me the right to choose what you knew.”
That stopped my anger.
Not erased.
Stopped.
Teresa surrendered herself for questioning.
But before police took the gun into evidence, she told us why she had returned.
“Elena is alive.”
Vincent’s expression shattered.
“What?”
“I saw her three months ago.”
“Where?”
“Carlo moved her.”
“From where?”
“A private care home in Pennsylvania.”
“For twenty-five years?”
Teresa nodded.
Vincent gripped the back of a chair.
“Why?”
“Elena knew everything.”
Antonio’s murder.
Carlo’s trafficking operation.
The bribed judges.
The false war after Antonio’s death.
And Carlo could not kill her easily.
Elena had placed documents with an attorney, scheduled to be released if her death was confirmed.
“So he kept her alive,” Vincent whispered.
“A living hostage.”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
“I thought she died.”
“When did you learn?”
“Three months ago.”
Carlo found Teresa because he believed she knew where Elena’s contingency documents were hidden.
He kidnapped Teresa.
Held her in the Pennsylvania facility.
That was where she saw Elena.
Older.
Weak.
But mentally clear.
The two women recognized each other immediately.
Carlo made another mistake.
He assumed women who had spent decades afraid would remain afraid forever.
Teresa escaped during a medical transfer.
Then spent weeks following Carlo.
Trying to locate where he moved Elena.
“Why shoot him?”
“He found me first.”
Carlo cornered Teresa at the Newark warehouse.
He admitted Vivian had successfully brought Isabella into Belladonna House.
Then laughed about how easy it would be to take the locket.
Teresa grabbed a gun from one of his men.
Fired once.
Carlo escaped.
She drove directly to us.
Vincent asked, “Where is my mother now?”
Teresa reached inside her coat.
Russo stiffened.
She slowly removed a key card.
“North Haven Rehabilitation Center.”
Salvatore frowned.
“That’s one of DeMarco’s properties.”
“Not officially.”
Teresa handed the card to Russo.
“Basement medical wing.”
Police moved immediately.
Vincent wanted to go.
Russo refused.
This time Vincent argued.
“That is my mother.”
“And we may be entering a hostage site.”
“I’m coming.”
“You are not law enforcement.”
“No.”
Vincent’s voice turned quiet.
“But half the men guarding that property worked for me before Carlo paid them.”
Russo stared.
“You know the security?”
“Yes.”
That changed things.
Vincent provided floor plans, access routes, names, shift patterns.
He stayed outside during the actual entry.
So did I.
So did Teresa.
Those forty-two minutes felt like hours.
Then Russo called.
“We found her.”
Vincent stopped breathing.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
He sat down on the hood of the car.
For the first time, the feared Vincent Moretti looked like a boy.
“She knows her name?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know mine?”
Russo’s voice softened.
“She keeps asking for you.”
We entered after the site was secured.
Elena Moretti lay inside a small medical room.
Her hair was white.
Her body frail.
But her eyes—
Vincent’s eyes.
She looked at him.
“Vincenzo.”
He fell to his knees beside the bed.
“Mom.”
She touched his face.
“My boy.”
I turned away.
Some reunions belonged to the people who lost them.
Teresa took my hand.
Then Elena saw her.
“Tessa.”
Teresa started crying.
“I’m sorry.”
“You came back.”
“Too late.”
“No.”
Elena’s gaze moved to me.
She studied my face.
Then smiled.
“Antonio’s daughter.”
I stepped closer.
“You knew me?”
“I held you once.”
My throat tightened.
“When?”
“The day you were baptized.”
I had no memory.
Of course.
Elena reached toward the locket.
“I gave that to your mother.”
“I know.”
“Did it keep you safe?”
I looked at Teresa.
“Eventually.”
Elena laughed weakly.
Then her expression changed.
“Carlo?”
“Missing,” Vincent said.
“He will go to the tunnels.”
“What tunnels?”
She looked alarmed.
“Belladonna.”
Vincent frowned.
“There are tunnels under the house?”
“Antonio built them during Prohibition.”
Salvatore swore.
Elena gripped Vincent’s wrist.
“Carlo knows.”
“What’s down there?”
Her voice weakened.
“The original ledgers.”
Teresa went pale.
“The trafficking records?”
Elena nodded.
“And the recording.”
“What recording?” I asked.
Elena looked at Vincent.
“The night Antonio died.”
A hidden audio recorder had captured the entire confrontation.
Antonio accusing Carlo.
Carlo admitting the trafficking.
The gunshot.
Everything.
If Carlo reached it first, the strongest evidence disappeared.
Vincent called Belladonna House.
No answer.
Then another number.
Nothing.
Salvatore’s face changed.
“The internal cameras are offline.”
Carlo had gone home.
Not his home.
May you like
Ours.
And Vivian was still inside.
