Chapter 16 - THE FATHER IN THE SNOWClara listened to the recording thirty-seven times.
One word.
Clara.
That was all.
But she knew his voice.
Age had roughened it.
Pain had changed it.
Still, somewhere beneath the years was the man who used to call her downstairs for burnt pancakes.
Dominic sat beside her.
He did not tell her to stop replaying it.
Eventually Clara whispered:
“That’s him.”
“I believe you.”
“Everyone thought he was dead.”
“Yes.”
“My mother mourned him.”
“I know.”
“I mourned him.”
Dominic reached for her hand.
Clara let him hold it.
Then she asked the question she feared most.
“What if he chose not to come back?”
Dominic did not lie.
“Then he owes you an explanation.”
Matteo’s plane traveled to Montana.
Victor discovered the destination through an aviation contact.
A private airstrip near Glacier National Park.
Federal agents became involved immediately.
Clara, Dominic, Victor and Helen flew west.
Emilia remained in Chicago with Sofia and Rosa under protection.
Clara hated leaving her.
But she needed answers.
Montana greeted them with snow.
The property was isolated.
A lodge surrounded by pine forest and mountains.
No visible guards.
That made Dominic suspicious.
“Stay behind me.”
Clara looked at him.
He sighed.
“Would you consider staying behind me?”
“Better.”
They entered.
A fire burned in the stone fireplace.
Matteo sat beside it.
Alone.
“Where is he?”
Matteo pointed toward the stairs.
Clara moved.
Dominic caught her hand.
She looked back.
He did not stop her.
He simply walked with her.
Upstairs, Clara found a bedroom.
A man stood beside the window.
Thin.
Gray-haired.
One hand resting on a cane.
He turned.
Clara forgot how to breathe.
Thomas Jenkins looked twenty years older than the father in her memory.
But it was him.
“Clara.”
She could not move.
Thomas began crying.
That broke her paralysis.
Clara crossed the room.
Then stopped three feet away.
Thomas opened his arms.
She did not enter them.
His face crumpled.
“You’re alive.”
“Yes.”
“You were alive.”
“Yes.”
“For fourteen years?”
His eyes closed.
“Yes.”
Clara slapped him.
Dominic flinched.
Thomas did not.
Clara slapped him again.
Then her fists struck his chest.
“You were alive!”
“I know.”
“You let me bury you!”
“I know.”
“You let Mom think you were dead!”
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know!”
Thomas stood there and took every blow.
Then Clara collapsed against him.
He held her.
And she hated him.
And loved him.
And cried like she was fifteen again.
Later, they sat downstairs.
Helen refused to speak to Thomas.
He accepted it.
Then the truth emerged.
Thomas had survived the attack.
Gallagher’s men had shot him and staged his death.
Matteo found him first.
“Why didn’t you come home?” Clara demanded.
Thomas looked at Helen.
“Because Arthur knew Helena was alive.”
Helen went pale.
Thomas explained.
Arthur threatened to expose Helen’s Vescari identity and bring Matteo back into her life.
Thomas believed disappearing was the only way to protect them.
Clara shook her head.
“No.”
“Clara—”
“You don’t get to call abandonment protection.”
Thomas flinched.
Dominic looked at her.
The sentence struck both men.
Thomas lowered his head.
“You’re right.”
Clara stopped.
“I was afraid,” he said. “And I convinced myself fear was sacrifice.”
Dominic’s hand tightened around hers.
Thomas continued.
“Every year I planned to return.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Shame.”
Clara stared.
The great mystery of her childhood was not noble.
Not heroic.
Her father had been afraid.
Then ashamed.
Then trapped by his own choices.
It hurt.
But it was human.
Matteo entered.
“We’re finished.”
Dominic stood.
“No.”
Matteo looked at him.
“I delivered Thomas.”
“You kidnapped Clara’s mother. Threatened my daughter. Terrorized my family.”
“And now you know why.”
“No,” Clara said.
Everyone turned.
“You didn’t do this to reunite us.”
Matteo smiled faintly.
“Smart girl.”
“What do you want?”
Matteo walked toward the window.
“The Vescari empire is dying.”
“Good,” Dominic said.
Matteo ignored him.
“My enemies know I have no successor.”
Clara understood.
“No.”
Matteo turned.
“You carry Vescari blood.”
“No.”
“Your daughter—”
Dominic stepped forward.
“Finish that sentence carefully.”
Clara placed herself between them.
“No.”
Matteo studied her.
“You haven’t heard my offer.”
“I don’t need to.”
“Five hundred million dollars.”
“No.”
“Control of every legitimate Vescari company.”
“No.”
“Enough wealth that Emilia’s grandchildren never work.”
Clara smiled.
“My daughter watched her father crawl under a restaurant table for a stuffed rabbit last week.”
Matteo frowned.
“That is wealth.”
Dominic looked at her.
Clara continued.
“You spent your life collecting things because nobody chose to stay.”
Matteo’s face hardened.
“Careful.”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“You don’t want an heir. You want proof you mattered.”
Silence.
For the first time, Matteo Vescari looked old.
Then a gunshot shattered the window.
Dominic pulled Clara down.
Victor fired toward the trees.
Matteo stared outside.
His expression changed.
“That isn’t mine.”
Dominic looked at him.
“What?”
Another shot struck the wall.
Matteo whispered:
“They found me.”
“Who?”
Matteo turned.
May you like
“The people who killed Salvatore.”
And before anyone could ask another question, the entire lodge went dark.
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