Chapter 8 - NEVER TRUST MATTEO ROSSI
Norah read the sentence six times.
Norah must never trust Matteo Rossi.
Her father had written it.
She knew the slope of his N.
The narrow R.
The way his final letters leaned downward when he was tired.
Salvatore had not forged the handwriting.
Matteo’s voice came through the speaker.
“Where did you get that?”
Salvatore smiled.
“Thomas gave it to Dominic’s father.”
Dominic shifted.
Matteo looked at him.
Dominic shrugged.
“My father believed in insurance.”
Norah closed her eyes.
Answer one.
A worse question opened.
Had Thomas Quinn been hiding from Matteo as well as Salvatore?
Arthur’s voice came through the council feed.
“Norah, don’t leave where you are.”
She almost laughed.
Once again, everyone was telling her where she was allowed to go.
Then she looked at the watch.
7:14.
The photograph.
Trust neither brother.
Something bothered her.
Not the handwriting.
The name.
Matteo Rossi.
Her father had met Matteo eighteen months before his death.
He trusted him enough to share records.
He trusted him enough to give him the watch.
Why write the warning?
Norah pulled the first ledger toward her.
Page after page used initials.
S. Rossi.
V. Rossi.
M.R.
Her father rarely wrote full names inside dangerous records.
Unless—
Norah opened another box from Mercer Storage.
Personnel lists.
Shipping manifests.
Old payroll.
She found it.
Her finger stopped on a line dated nine years earlier.
Matteo Rossi Logistics.
Not a person.
A company.
The company had been established by Vittorio Rossi and named after his son.
After Vittorio died, Salvatore controlled it for three years before Matteo took over.
Norah looked back at the note.
If Matteo Rossi learns I kept a second ledger, he will have me killed...
Not “Matteo.”
Not “the boy.”
Not “M.R.”
Matteo Rossi.
Her father might have meant the company.
The organization.
Or whoever controlled it.
She needed more.
Norah enlarged the scanned note.
There was a faint indentation beneath the bottom line.
Another sheet had been written over it.
She used the same shading technique from the storage unit.
Slowly, letters emerged.
S. has the company seal. Any order bearing M.R. may be his.
Norah stood so quickly the baby kicked.
“Arthur.”
His voice came through immediately.
“Yes?”
“Keep Salvatore in that room.”
There was a pause.
“Norah—”
“I know what the note means.”
Twenty minutes later, Norah entered the Rossi Social Club.
Matteo turned toward her in disbelief.
“What are you doing here?”
“Finishing something my father started.”
Salvatore’s expression finally cracked.
Norah placed the ledgers on the table.
Then the watch.
Then the photograph.
Finally the shaded impression.
“My father didn’t warn me about Matteo the man.”
Silence.
“He warned me about Matteo Rossi Logistics. The company Salvatore controlled when my father died.”
Dominic’s eyes shifted toward Salvatore.
Norah saw it.
Fear.
Salvatore looked at her.
“You’re making an emotional interpretation.”
“No.”
She turned the photograph around.
“Trust neither brother.”
Norah looked at Matteo.
“He didn’t trust Vittorio.”
Then Salvatore.
“And he didn’t trust you.”
Salvatore’s jaw hardened.
Matteo picked up the note.
Norah continued.
“My father had discovered you were issuing orders through the company seal. That’s how you moved him after Matteo signed the location release.”
Arthur understood.
“The release Matteo signed transferred Thomas to Chelsea.”
“Yes.”
Norah pointed at the impression.
“But Salvatore changed the receiving authority after the fact.”
Dominic suddenly moved.
Arthur drew his gun.
“Sit down.”
Dominic did.
One of the older captains at the table looked at Salvatore.
“Did you kill Quinn?”
Salvatore did not answer.
“Did you kill Elena?” another asked.
Still nothing.
Matteo stared at the rosary on the table.
“My mother trusted you.”
Salvatore laughed softly.
“There it is.”
Matteo’s eyes lifted.
“That wounded little boy you keep buried beneath the suits.”
Salvatore stood slowly.
Arthur kept his gun trained on him.
“You want the truth?”
Norah said, “For once.”
Salvatore looked around the table.
“I built what Vittorio inherited.”
Matteo’s face changed.
“I moved guns before he could spell inventory. I made alliances while he played respectable businessman. Then Father died and handed everything to the eldest son because bloodlines mattered more than ability.”
He looked at Matteo.
“Your father got the chair.”
His eyes dropped briefly toward Norah’s stomach.
“And then he produced an heir.”
Norah felt cold.
“Elena wanted him out,” Salvatore continued. “She convinced Vittorio to reduce our operations. Legitimate businesses. Restaurants. Shipping. Construction.”
Matteo’s voice was quiet.
“So you killed her.”
Salvatore’s expression hardened.
“I preserved what our family built.”
Something in Matteo broke.
He lunged.
Arthur caught him.
“Matteo!”
Salvatore smiled.
“Yes. There you are.”
He wanted Matteo angry.
Wanted him violent.
Wanted proof that nothing had changed.
Norah stepped in front of her husband.
“Don’t.”
Matteo stared at Salvatore over her shoulder.
“He killed my mother.”
“And my father.”
“Move.”
“No.”
Matteo looked at Norah.
She said, “If you kill him, he dies believing he still controls what kind of man you are.”
Matteo’s breathing slowed.
Then, very deliberately, he stepped back.
Salvatore’s smile vanished.
Arthur moved forward with restraints.
That was when Dominic pulled a gun.
Everything happened at once.
A shot shattered the ceiling.
Arthur tackled Dominic.
Men overturned chairs.
Salvatore ran through the rear door.
Matteo followed.
Norah heard tires outside.
By the time they reached the alley, Salvatore’s sedan was disappearing toward the harbor.
Matteo raised his gun.
Too far.
He lowered it.
Arthur emerged behind them, bleeding from a cut near his eyebrow.
“Dominic’s secured.”
Matteo looked toward the harbor.
“He’ll go to Santino.”
Norah knew why.
The second ledger.
The one Thomas had mentioned.
The ledger containing the complete proof.
Salvatore could burn it.
Destroy the final record.
Erase the one thing capable of proving every murder, every transfer, every lie.
Norah looked at her father’s stopped watch.
7:14.
Suddenly, she understood.
“Matteo.”
He turned.
“The pier fire report.”
“What?”
“The night my father died. What time did the warehouse fire start?”
Matteo stared at her.
Arthur already knew.
“7:14.”
Norah closed her hand around the watch.
“It didn’t stop because it was damaged in my father’s fire.”
Her voice tightened.
“He stopped it himself.”
Matteo understood.
Norah looked toward Santino Pier.
May you like
“My father was telling us exactly where he left the second ledger.”
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