Chapter 10 - THE FATHER THE MAFIA BOSS BURIED ALIVE
Antonio Moretti had been declared dead fourteen years earlier.
A gunshot.
Emergency surgery.
Then cardiac failure.
That was the official record.
But my father remembered driving thirteen-year-old Vincent to the hospital that night.
And according to the files, Antonio survived the operation.
A second transfer occurred before dawn.
Private facility.
Restricted patient record.
Different name.
Anthony Moore.
Vincent stared.
“My father?”
Rebecca nodded cautiously.
“The date and identifying information are consistent.”
Teresa began crying.
“I sat beside his coffin.”
Vincent looked toward her.
“So did I.”
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Dad explained.
“Lorenzo needed everyone to believe Antonio was gone.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why keep him alive?”
“Because Antonio knew where the financial records were.”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“And if he died without talking?”
Dad nodded.
“Lorenzo lost everything.”
The investigation traced the private facility.
It had changed ownership twice.
The current institution operated outside Madison, Wisconsin.
A long-term neurological care center.
One resident had lived there under the name Anthony Moore for fourteen years.
Vincent did not storm the facility.
He did not arrive with armed men.
He worked through attorneys, investigators, and patient advocates.
I noticed.
So did Teresa.
When independent identification confirmed Antonio's identity, Vincent sat alone for almost an hour.
Then he asked if I would go with him.
“Why me?”
He looked down.
“Because you tell me when I'm behaving like an idiot.”
I almost laughed.
“You have people for that.”
“Apparently not enough.”
I agreed.
Antonio was seventy-one.
Thin.
Partially paralyzed.
But alert.
When Vincent entered the room, the old man's eyes widened.
“Vincenzo?”
Vincent stopped.
Nobody called him that anymore.
“Dad?”
Antonio began crying.
Vincent crossed the room.
He took his father's hand.
For several seconds, neither could speak.
Then Antonio whispered:
“You grew up.”
Vincent laughed through tears.
“You missed a few years.”
The reunion was painful.
Beautiful.
And complicated.
Antonio remembered the shooting.
He remembered Lorenzo arranging the hospital transfer.
Then years of being isolated under another name.
He remembered trying to send messages to Teresa.
None arrived.
When asked about the stolen money, Antonio closed his eyes.
“Lorenzo wanted the company.”
Vincent leaned forward.
“Why?”
“Not the restaurants.”
Antonio swallowed.
“The land.”
I frowned.
“What land?”
Antonio looked toward me.
Then he asked:
“Are you Michael Reed's daughter?”
My stomach tightened.
“Yes.”
He smiled faintly.
“Your father found it.”
“Found what?”
Antonio looked toward Vincent.
“The underground transit rights beneath three Moretti properties.”
Vincent frowned.
“Those are abandoned tunnels.”
Antonio shook his head.
“Not anymore.”
Then he revealed the secret Lorenzo had spent decades protecting.
A new city infrastructure project had made those underground rights worth hundreds of millions.
May you like
And one of the properties sat beneath The Magnolia Room.
The restaurant where I had just been fired.
