Chapter 6 - THE PRICE OF KEEPING ME ALIVE
Antonio had not been poor.
He had only lived like he was.
That revelation hurt almost as much as learning he was my father.
Salvatore opened old financial records.
For twenty-seven years, Antonio received distributions from a family olive business in Sicily.
He transferred almost all of it into offshore accounts controlled by Vittorio.
Protection money.
For me.
“If he stopped paying?” I asked.
Salvatore's face gave me the answer.
Vittorio promised to expose my identity to people connected to the old trafficking network.
Some witnesses blamed Antonio and Elena for prosecutions that followed.
Some criminals wanted revenge.
Antonio believed anonymity was safer than fatherhood.
“So he watched me struggle.”
My medical bills flashed through my mind.
Final notices.
Double shifts.
Cheap groceries.
Salvatore shook his head.
“He didn't know.”
“How could he not know?”
“You never told him.”
True.
I had lied to Antonio too.
Whenever he asked how I was doing, I said fine.
The Rossi family apparently wasn't the only group addicted to silence.
Gabriel asked about the medical bills.
I stiffened.
“Not relevant.”
“It is if Vittorio has been watching you.”
He was right.
My younger sister, Mia, had a chronic kidney condition.
Insurance covered most treatment.
Not all.
I had taken the Ilvento job to pay the remaining balance.
Antonio died before the worst bills arrived.
Salvatore suddenly asked:
“Who handles your sister's clinic payments?”
I frowned.
“The hospital.”
“Any charity program?”
“Yes.”
A foundation had covered several major expenses anonymously.
I had assumed it was hospital assistance.
Gabriel was already searching.
The foundation was real.
But the donor behind Mia's payments?
Antonio Cosenza.
Even after death.
He had established a trust.
I covered my face.
That complicated my anger.
Antonio had known enough to plan.
But not enough to tell me the truth.
Then Gabriel found another clause.
The trust would expire when I turned thirty.
Six months away.
Any remaining balance would transfer to a beneficiary named A.R.
“A.R.?” I asked.
Salvatore went pale.
Gabriel noticed.
“Father?”
Salvatore closed the file.
“Enough.”
“No.”
I stood.
“I'm done with old men deciding when I've heard enough.”
Salvatore stared at me.
Then said:
“Alessandro Rossi.”
Gabriel frowned.
“Who?”
“My first son.”
The room froze.
Gabriel had always believed he was Salvatore's only child.
Apparently not.
“Where is he?” Gabriel asked.
Salvatore's voice dropped.
“Dead.”
“When?”
“Thirty-one years ago.”
Two years before I was born.
Then why would Antonio's trust list Alessandro as a future beneficiary?
May you like
Unless Alessandro Rossi wasn't dead.
And according to the next bank record Gabriel pulled up, A.R. had withdrawn money from the trust three weeks earlier.
