Chapter 7 - The Son Nobody Buried
Gabriel Lazzeri had been living 9 miles from the mansion.
Not in hiding.
Not under an invented identity.
He owned a small bookstore in Oak Park.
That fact offended Luca more than anything else.
“We have intelligence networks across 4 states.”
“And nobody checks bookstores?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Apparently not.”
It was the first morning after I met the wounded version of Luca Vericio, and somehow teasing him already felt dangerously natural.
Salvatore was stable in the hospital.
My mother was safe.
For the moment, that was enough.
The bookstore opened at 9.
Gabriel was behind the counter.
He was approximately 32.
Dark hair.
Gray eyes.
And when Luca walked through the door, Gabriel looked unsurprised.
“Took you long enough.”
Luca stopped.
“You knew me?”
“You’re on magazine covers.”
Luca looked annoyed.
I almost smiled.
Gabriel saw me.
His expression changed completely.
“You’re Matteo’s daughter.”
“How does everyone know me except me?”
“That is unfortunately the theme of your week.”
I liked him immediately.
Luca did not.
“Where is the recording?”
Gabriel sighed.
“No hello?”
“Hello. Recording.”
“Charming.”
I stepped between them.
“Please.”
Gabriel studied me.
Then locked the shop.
We went upstairs to his apartment.
He removed an old cassette from inside a hollow copy of The Count of Monte Cristo.
“My mother gave me this when I turned 18.”
“Bianca?”
“Yes.”
“She told everyone you died.”
“She told everyone what was necessary.”
“Why?”
Gabriel looked at Luca.
“Because my father was Bruno Vericio.”
Silence.
Luca sat down.
That made Gabriel his cousin.
“Antonio knew?” I asked.
“Yes. He knew before he married her.”
That surprised me.
“He protected them?”
“Antonio loved my mother. He agreed to claim me as his own.”
“So why hide you?”
“Because Bruno wanted an heir.”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“To what?”
“To everything.”
Gabriel placed the cassette recorder on the table.
“My mother spent 30 years pretending to be crueler than she was because Bruno only respected cruelty.”
I thought of every sharp word Bianca had spoken.
“You’re saying she was protecting you.”
“Mostly.”
“She treated me terribly.”
Gabriel winced.
“She is also genuinely difficult.”
That was believable.
He pressed play.
Static filled the room.
Then my father’s voice.
I had forgotten it.
That was the cruelest part.
Memory had preserved his face but softened his voice into something generic.
Hearing it again broke me.
If you are listening, something went wrong.
I covered my mouth.
Luca sat beside me without touching me.
The recording continued.
My father explained that Bruno had been diverting money through accounts carrying Vittorio’s authorization.
The signatures were forged.
Antonio discovered it.
Bianca discovered Bruno was planning to eliminate both men.
Then came the sentence that changed everything.
Bruno knows Luca will inherit before his own son. He intends to remove Vittorio’s bloodline and use Gabriel as the legitimate successor.
Luca stared at Gabriel.
Gabriel raised both hands.
“I sell books.”
The recording continued.
Bianca does not know I am making this recording. Antonio intends to confront Bruno tomorrow.
Tomorrow had been the warehouse fire.
My father’s voice became quieter.
If I do not return, Lucia must take Rosalie and leave Chicago. Tell my daughter I was trying to become a man she could be proud of.
I cried then.
Not elegantly.
Not silently.
Fourteen years of grief came apart inside a stranger’s apartment.
Luca reached for my hand.
He stopped halfway.
I saw it.
So I closed the distance myself.
His fingers wrapped around mine.
Warm.
Careful.
Gabriel looked away.
The recording ended with one final statement.
Bruno has someone inside Vittorio’s house.
Luca stood.
“Someone inside.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Apparently.”
“Fourteen years ago.”
“And possibly now.”
My phone rang.
Marisol.
I answered.
Her breathing was frantic.
“Rosalie.”
“What happened?”
“Your mother is fine.”
My heart restarted.
“But?”
“The mansion.”
“What?”
“There was an explosion.”
Luca heard.
He took the phone.
“Where?”
Marisol answered loudly enough for me to hear.
“East wing.”
Luca’s face went cold.
“My office?”
“No.”
A pause.
“Bianca’s room.”
Gabriel was already reaching for his coat.
We drove back.
Fire crews surrounded the estate.
Smoke poured from the upper windows.
Bianca stood outside in a blanket.
Alive.
When she saw Gabriel, her face broke.
“My boy.”
She hugged him.
It was the first tenderness I had ever seen from her.
Then Luca approached.
“Who knew Gabriel was alive?”
Bianca looked at him.
“Three people.”
“Names.”
“Me. Salvatore.”
She hesitated.
“And?”
“Your head of security.”
Luca’s expression changed.
“Marcus.”
Behind us, an SUV engine roared.
We turned.
May you like
Marcus Vale, Luca’s security chief, accelerated toward the gates.
And in the passenger seat sat my mother.
