“Eat in the Kitchen!” His Mother Humiliated His Wife — Until the Mafia Boss Saw Her Injured Hands

For several seconds, Gabriel didn't move.

Then he took the letter from my hand and read it again, slower this time, as though the words might rearrange themselves into something less terrible.

"Sofia was declared dead after a boating accident," he said. "Her car was found near the harbor. They recovered a body from the water."

"Did you identify it?" I asked.

His eyes remained on the page.

"No."

The answer seemed to cost him something.

"Vittorio told me the body was too badly damaged. My mother arranged the funeral. The medical examiner signed the report."

"And you signed the death certificate?"

Gabriel looked at me.

"I signed the family authorization for the burial. I was told every other document had been verified."

Elena rose.

"This conversation has gone far enough."

Gabriel turned on her.

"Did you know Sofia was alive?"

"No."

"Then why are you afraid of this letter?"

"I'm afraid of what your wife is doing to this family."

"My wife found evidence of a crime."

"Your wife has been in this house for six months, and suddenly she has discovered secrets that have remained buried for years. Doesn't that strike you as convenient?"

I felt the old instinct to defend myself rise in my chest. Instead, I looked at Elena's hands.

She was twisting her wedding ring.

Not nervously, but deliberately, as though she were trying to loosen it.

"You're right about one thing," I said. "The timing is convenient."

Elena stopped twisting the ring.

"Because someone wanted me to find the ledger. Someone left the key where I would discover it. Someone wanted me to open the cabinet."

Gabriel studied me.

"Why would anyone do that?"

"Because they wanted the evidence found before it could disappear. Or because they wanted to make me look responsible for whatever happens next."

Arthur shifted near the door.

Gabriel noticed.

"Take him downstairs. Separate him from everyone else. No one contacts his family until we know who is threatening them."

Arthur didn't resist.

Once he had gone, Gabriel turned back to the photograph.

Sofia stood beside the black car, her dark hair lifted by the wind. She wore a narrow gold bracelet with a tiny oval charm.

I had seen that bracelet before.

Not in the house.

In the photograph my father kept locked in his desk.

My mother had worn the same bracelet in the only picture I possessed of her.

She had died when I was eight, according to my father. Her name was Rebecca Vale, and she had spent her final years working as a bookkeeper for several private companies in Chicago.

I had never known her to have any connection to the Romano family.

I took the photograph from Gabriel and turned it toward the light.

"The bracelet," I whispered.

He leaned closer.

"What about it?"

"My mother had one exactly like this."

Vittorio laughed sharply.

"That's impossible."

I looked at him.

"Why?"

He said nothing.

Elena's face had gone white.

Gabriel held out his hand. "Catherine, tell me everything you know about your mother."

"Not here."

"Why?"

"Because I think somebody in this room already knows more than I do."

I had never seen Gabriel look at his uncle with such cold suspicion.

He ordered everyone into separate rooms while his security team examined the documents. Then he took me to his private study, where he cleaned the blood from my hand himself.

His movements were careful, almost painfully so.

"You should have told me about the threats," he said.

"I was afraid you'd think I was using them to get closer to your family."

He looked up.

"Is that what you think I believe about you?"

"I don't know what you believe about me, Gabriel. You married me to save my father's company. You gave me a room, a name, and a set of rules. You've never asked what I wanted."

He put down the gauze.

"What do you want?"

The question was so simple that I struggled to answer it.

"I want to know why my mother is in your family's secrets. I want my father safe. And I want to stop feeling like a guest in my own marriage."

Gabriel was silent for a long moment.

Then he said, "I never wanted you to feel that way."

"But you let me."

He accepted the accusation without defending himself.

"I did."

It was the first honest apology I had heard from him.

Before I could respond, his security chief entered carrying a tablet.

"We found a surveillance camera in the east corridor that wasn't on the property's system."