Chapter 11 - THE GRAVE WITH THE WRONG NAME
Matteo asked Adrian to go to his grave with him.
It was the strangest request Adrian had ever received.
They drove alone.
No guards.
Federal agents knew where they were, but remained distant.
The cemetery was quiet.
Matteo stood in front of the stone.
MATTEO SALVATORE DELUCA
1990–2020
BELOVED SON. BROTHER.
He stared.
“They made me thirty.”
“You were thirty.”
“Still rude.”
Adrian laughed.
Then the laughter vanished.
For six years, he had stood here alone.
Every February.
Sometimes drunk.
Sometimes furious.
Once with blood still on his cuff after doing something he would never tell Lily about.
Matteo read the inscription.
“You picked this?”
“Yes.”
“Beloved?”
“You were dead.”
“I was annoying alive.”
“That too.”
Silence.
Then Matteo asked:
“What did you do after?”
Adrian knew what he meant.
“Bad things.”
“How bad?”
“Bad enough.”
“Because of me?”
“Because I wanted someone to blame.”
Matteo looked at the grave.
“Victor gave you people.”
“Yes.”
Rivals.
Old enemies.
Men Victor conveniently labeled responsible.
Adrian had punished some.
Destroyed businesses.
Broken alliances.
Two men died during those years.
Not innocent men.
But probably innocent of Matteo's fire.
Adrian had to live with that.
Matteo didn't excuse him.
That was another gift.
“You have to decide what you do with it.”
“I know.”
They arranged for the grave to be opened.
The remains inside belonged to Owen Price.
His surviving sister was contacted privately.
Adrian paid for nothing without asking.
She accepted burial costs.
Refused anything else.
Another lesson.
Not every harm could be purchased away.
When the new stone went up, it carried Owen's name.
Matteo's grave disappeared.
Adrian thought that would feel like recovery.
Instead it felt like permission.
His brother was no longer a dead man walking.
He was simply alive.
Complicated.
Scarred.
Angry.
Alive.
Back at the estate, Sofia had received news.
Federal investigators found Victor's private clinic records.
Thomas Rainer—the doctor who treated Matteo after the fire—had kept notes.
One page documented Matteo's captivity.
Another listed monthly payments from a third party.
Not Victor.
Adrian read the payer.
DELUCA FAMILY TRUST.
His father's trust.
Matteo frowned.
“Dad paid the clinic?”
Sofia shook her head.
“The payments continued after he died.”
Adrian stared.
Only two trustees remained after Salvatore's death.
Victor.
And Teresa Moreno.
Adrian slowly turned toward the kitchen.
No.
Teresa had raised him.
Bandaged his knees.
Buried his father beside him.
Fed Lily grilled cheese.
Matteo looked equally stunned.
“She knew?”
They found Teresa in the pantry.
Adrian held the records.
Her face changed immediately.
“Where did you get those?”
“Tell me.”
She sat down.
Not guilty.
Tired.
“I paid them.”
Matteo's voice cracked.
“For what?”
“To keep you alive.”
Silence.
Teresa explained.
After the fire, Victor told the household Matteo was dead.
Two weeks later, Teresa received a call.
A frightened nurse from the private clinic.
Matteo was alive.
Victor intended to move him.
Teresa couldn't rescue him.
Not without exposing the nurse and getting Matteo killed.
So she used discretionary trust funds to pay the clinic's owner to falsify medical reports, delay transfers, and keep Matteo stable.
“For nearly a year,” she said, “every time Victor ordered you moved, I paid somebody to create a reason you couldn't be.”
Matteo stared.
“You bought time.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell Adrian?”
“Victor had people inside the house.”
She looked at Marco.
“At the time, I thought Marco was one of them.”
Fair.
Adrian sat down.
“You let me believe he was dead.”
Teresa's eyes filled.
“I let you believe he was dead because the first time you thought Victor might know something, you put twelve armed men outside his Connecticut house.”
Adrian winced.
He had.
“You weren't ready to hide what you knew.”
That was painful because it was true.
Teresa reached into her apron.
An old key.
“I did more than pay the clinic.”
She placed it on the table.
“I kept what Salvatore asked me to hide.”
“What?”
“His final will.”
Adrian stared.
They had probated his father's will nine years ago.
Teresa shook her head.
“No.”
May you like
“You probated the version Victor wanted.”
And somewhere inside the estate was another document that could change the DeLuca family one final time.
