Chapter 8 - The Last Letter
Federal agents took Cross and Matteo.
The story exploded nationally within hours.
But Alessandro cared about one thing.
His mother.
Blackwater contained one clue Daniel had hidden inside a photograph.
A lighthouse.
Camden, Maine.
Three days later, Alessandro and I stood outside a small white house overlooking Penobscot Bay.
Victor waited by the car.
Alessandro didn't move.
“You've faced armed men with less fear than this,” I said.
“They're easier.”
“Why?”
“I know what armed men want.”
“And your mother?”
He looked toward the house.
“I don't know whether she wants me.”
I took his hand.
That surprised both of us.
“Find out.”
He knocked.
An elderly woman opened the door.
Gray hair.
Blue eyes.
Alessandro stopped breathing.
She did too.
“Alex?”
One word.
That was all it took.
The feared Alessandro Romano became a nineteen-year-old boy.
“Mom?”
Elena covered her mouth.
Then she touched his face.
He broke.
No dramatic speech.
No shouting.
He simply wrapped his arms around his mother and buried his face against her shoulder.
I turned away.
Some moments didn't need witnesses.
Later, Elena told us everything.
Daniel had saved her twice.
First from the wreck.
Then from Salvatore.
After Daniel died, Elena remained hidden because Matteo convinced her Alessandro had embraced his father's criminal empire completely.
He sent photographs.
News stories.
Reports.
Some real.
Some fabricated.
“I thought contacting you would get you killed,” she whispered.
Alessandro held her hand.
“I thought you were dead.”
“I know.”
“I became him.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You became angry.”
“There's a difference?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes moved toward me.
“Angry men can come home.”
That night, I found Alessandro standing by the water.
“You okay?”
“No.”
It was the first time I had heard him answer that question truthfully.
I stood beside him.
“My mother knew your father,” he said.
“I figured.”
“She said he talked about you constantly.”
My throat tightened.
“What did he say?”
“That you hated peas.”
I laughed through sudden tears.
“I still do.”
“That you slept with a stuffed rabbit named Captain.”
“Oh God.”
“And that when you were five, you announced you were going to become president.”
“I had ambition.”
“You work at a diner.”
“I was building grassroots support.”
He laughed.
Then grew serious.
“She has a letter.”
He handed me an envelope.
My name was written across it in my father's handwriting.
I couldn't open it.
“You don't have to.”
“Yes, I do.”
Inside was a letter Daniel had written days before his death.
He told me he was sorry.
He told me leaving was the only way to keep Mom and me alive.
He told me he had watched my eighth birthday from across the street.
My tenth from inside a parked car.
My first day of middle school from behind a newspaper stand.
He had never stopped being my father.
He simply couldn't safely be one.
The final paragraph destroyed me.
Claire, courage isn't being unafraid. It's deciding that fear doesn't get the final vote. If I never see you grown, I hope you become someone who refuses to let powerful people decide what you are worth.
I cried until I couldn't read.
Alessandro sat beside me.
He didn't tell me everything was okay.
He didn't try to fix grief.
He simply stayed.
Eventually, I leaned against him.
“My father would've hated you.”
“Probably.”
“He hated arrogant men.”
“Definitely.”
“And people who throw dishes.”
Alessandro sighed.
“Are you ever letting that go?”
“No.”
He kissed the top of my head.
Then his phone rang.
Victor.
Alessandro listened.
His expression hardened.
“What do you mean missing?”
He stood.
“When?”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
“Matteo never reached federal detention.”
I stared.
“What?”
“The transport vehicle was attacked.”
“Cross?”
“Still in custody.”
“Then Matteo escaped?”
“Yes.”
Alessandro looked toward the house where his mother was sleeping.
And I understood immediately.
Matteo didn't want freedom.
He wanted revenge.
Alessandro called Victor.
“Lock down the house.”
Too late.
May you like
The lights went out.
A gunshot cracked through the darkness.
