Chapter 8 - THE GRAVE I NEVER VISITED
Isabella’s mother was buried outside Providence.
Catherine Marino.
Died when Isabella was nineteen.
I had never met her.
And in seven years of marriage, I had never visited her grave.
Isabella asked every anniversary.
I always had a reason.
A meeting.
Security concerns.
Travel.
Business.
The truth was uglier.
Cemeteries made me uncomfortable.
Too many Rossi men were buried with secrets under their names.
So I let my wife grieve alone.
We reached the cemetery after dark.
Marco found the marker.
Fresh flowers sat beside it.
White lilies.
Isabella’s favorite.
I knelt.
Nothing looked disturbed.
Then Serena noticed a small stone placed upside down behind the headstone.
Under it:
A key.
Not Mia’s locker key.
Different.
Attached was a metal tag.
Marco said:
“Safe deposit box?”
I shook my head.
Isabella’s birthday.
March twelfth.
Maybe number 312 meant something else.
Then I remembered.
Room 312.
The first apartment Isabella ever lived in after leaving college.
The apartment where I proposed.
She kept the lease for years after we married because her mother had helped pay the deposit before dying.
Eventually, I bought the building.
Without asking Isabella.
I thought it romantic.
She told me I had turned one of the last things that felt like hers into another Rossi possession.
I called the property manager.
Apartment 312 had been empty for two months.
We entered twenty minutes later.
The apartment looked almost exactly as I remembered.
Tiny kitchen.
Old hardwood.
Window overlooking an alley.
On the dining table sat a black ledger.
No security.
No hidden men.
Just the book everyone was willing to hurt people for.
Beside it was a letter.
Luca,
If you found this because I told someone “where you never took me,” then at least you finally listened.
I closed my eyes.
Even kidnapped, Isabella could cut through me.
I continued.
I didn’t hide this because I wanted to destroy you.
I hid it because I wasn’t sure what you would do if you saw your father’s sins written clearly enough that money couldn’t soften them.
You always say you’re different from Vittorio.
This is your chance to prove it.
Do not use this ledger to threaten the men inside it.
Do not trade it.
Do not bury it.
Give it to people who can investigate it.
My hands tightened.
She knew exactly what my instincts would be.
Leverage.
Negotiation.
Control.
She was asking me to surrender all three.
Then the final line:
If you choose your empire over the truth, don’t come looking for me.
Marco stood silently.
I turned the page.
More records.
Payments.
Disappearances.
Bribes.
Then one entry made my heart stop.
LUCIA ROSSI — JERSEY HOUSE.
PAOLO PRESENT.
SALVATORE AUTHORIZED.
VITTORIO NOT INFORMED.
My pulse changed.
My father had not ordered my mother’s death.
His brother had.
And Paolo had been there.
Then my phone rang.
Paolo.
I answered.
“You found it.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Let Isabella and Mia go.”
“Bring me the ledger.”
“No.”
Silence.
Then he laughed.
“Finally growing a spine against family?”
“No.”
I looked at Isabella’s letter.
“Finally learning family doesn’t mean protecting criminals.”
Paolo’s tone changed.
“You hand that book to authorities and half our world burns.”
“Then it burns.”
He went silent.
I surprised myself more than him.
Then he said:
“You have until sunrise.”
“Where?”
“The old ferry terminal.”
I knew it.
Abandoned docks south of the city.
Then Paolo added:
“Come alone.”
I looked at Marco.
“No.”
Paolo paused.
“What?”
“I’m done following rules written by men who hurt my wife.”
May you like
Then I hung up.
And called the FBI contact Isabella had already written into the back of the ledger.
