Chapter 5 - THE MAN ALEXANDER TRUSTED MOST
I heard the gun before I saw it.
A soft metallic click.
Daniel Cross had drawn his weapon.
Alexander didn't turn around.
Neither did Gabriel.
For one terrifying second, nobody moved.
Then Daniel said, “Put the laptop down.”
Alexander's voice was calm.
“You've been with me fifteen years.”
“Sixteen.”
“You saved my life.”
“Twice.”
“You stood beside my father's grave.”
“I did.”
Alexander finally turned.
“Why?”
Daniel's expression held no shame.
“That question is bigger than you think.”
Gabriel moved slightly.
Daniel aimed at him.
“Don't.”
Mia began trembling.
I stepped in front of her.
Daniel saw.
“I'm not going to hurt the child.”
“You were on a video discussing killing me.”
“I didn't agree to it.”
“You didn't stop it.”
Daniel looked at Alexander.
“I needed Vincent to believe I was working with him.”
Alexander laughed once.
Cold.
“You expect me to believe you're undercover?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Because I wasn't.”
Silence.
Daniel lowered the gun slightly.
“I was working for myself.”
Alexander's eyes hardened.
Daniel continued.
“Vincent has been planning your death for years. I discovered it eighteen months ago.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you wouldn't have believed me.”
“You're right.”
“You trusted him more than anyone.”
“He's family.”
“Exactly.”
Daniel looked toward Gabriel.
“I found Gabriel six months ago. We started collecting evidence.”
Gabriel nodded.
“He's telling the truth.”
Alexander stared at both men.
“So everyone knew except me.”
“No,” Gabriel said. “Nicholas learned recently.”
“And Isabella?”
“She knew nothing.”
Alexander looked at me.
I didn't know whether that helped.
Daniel pointed toward the laptop.
“That drive is enough to expose Vincent's financial network, but not enough to convict him of Anthony's murder.”
Alexander's expression darkened.
“I don't care about convicting him.”
“I know.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“That's why we didn't tell you.”
Alexander almost smiled.
“You thought I'd kill him.”
“Yes.”
“You were right.”
“And then every answer dies with him.”
That landed.
Gabriel folded his arms.
“Vincent didn't build this alone.”
“Who else?”
“We don't know.”
Daniel added, “That's why Victoria matters.”
Alexander looked at him.
“She knows?”
“She knows something.”
“Then we're going back.”
“No,” I said.
Every man looked at me.
I was tired of that.
Tired of powerful men deciding the world while women and children became consequences.
“My daughter is not going anywhere near Vincent.”
Alexander nodded.
“She isn't.”
“Neither am I.”
Gabriel stepped forward.
“Isabella—”
“No.”
“Sweetheart—”
“Don't.”
He stopped.
“You don't get to disappear for twelve years and return with instructions.”
His face fell.
Good.
“I have spent my entire adult life cleaning up damage created by men with last names like Moretti and Romano.”
Alexander watched silently.
“I am taking Mia somewhere safe.”
Alexander nodded.
“You'll have protection.”
“I don't want your protection.”
“You need it.”
“I needed a normal life.”
His expression softened.
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
“Yes.”
Something in his voice stopped me.
Alexander looked at Mia.
“I know exactly what it's like to inherit danger you never asked for.”
For a moment, he wasn't Alexander Romano.
He was Anthony's son.
A boy who had survived an explosion because older men wanted power.
Maybe that was why I agreed.
Alexander's mother's former house stood near Lake Geneva, two hours outside Chicago.
Nobody had used it for years.
Gabriel wanted to come.
I refused.
Alexander sent four guards.
Before we separated, Mia walked toward him.
“Mr. Romano?”
Alexander crouched.
She handed him his inhaler.
The same blue inhaler recovered from Victoria's bag.
“You should keep it somewhere safer.”
For the first time that day, Alexander smiled.
“I think you're right.”
Mia considered him.
“Maybe two.”
He almost laughed.
“Definitely two.”
Then she hugged him.
Every armed man in the warehouse pretended not to notice.
Alexander froze.
Slowly, awkwardly, he hugged her back.
“Come home,” Mia whispered.
Something changed in his face.
“I will.”
We left.
For almost an hour, nobody spoke.
Then Mia asked the question I had been avoiding.
“Is Grandpa bad?”
I looked at the road.
“No.”
“Is he good?”
“I don't know.”
She thought about that.
“Can people be both?”
I smiled sadly.
“Yes.”
Children understand adults better than adults want to admit.
We reached the lake house shortly before sunset.
It was beautiful.
Quiet.
Snow covered the trees.
For the first time all day, I breathed normally.
The guards checked every room.
Secure.
No cameras.
No vehicles nearby.
I made Mia hot chocolate.
She sat near the fireplace.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Are you mad at Grandpa?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love him?”
I stopped.
“I don't know.”
She nodded.
“That's okay.”
Sometimes eight-year-olds are wiser than therapists.
At 8:17 p.m., the power went out.
Every light vanished.
One of the guards immediately entered.
“Stay here.”
He drew his weapon.
Another guard checked the generator.
I grabbed Mia.
Then we heard something upstairs.
A floorboard.
The guard raised his gun.
“Who's there?”
No answer.
He moved toward the staircase.
A shadow appeared.
Gunfire exploded.
The guard fell.
I screamed.
Mia ducked.
Another man rushed through the kitchen.
I grabbed a fireplace poker.
He reached for Mia.
I swung.
Hard.
Metal struck his arm.
He cursed.
I swung again.
Then a gunshot cracked.
The man dropped.
I turned.
Gabriel stood in the doorway.
Smoke curled from his weapon.
“Dad?”
“Get Mia.”
“How did you find us?”
“Later.”
He looked terrified.
“We need to move.”
“Why?”
“Because the safe house was compromised before you arrived.”
My blood went cold.
“How?”
Gabriel looked toward the dead attacker.
“He was waiting.”
I stared at him.
“Who knew where we were going?”
“Alexander.”
“Daniel.”
“You.”
“And the guards.”
Gabriel nodded.
Then one of the wounded men on the floor laughed.
Blood covered his mouth.
I crouched.
“Who sent you?”
He smiled.
“You still don't understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Vincent isn't trying to kill the girl.”
Gabriel grabbed him.
“What are you talking about?”
The man looked directly at Mia.
“He needs her alive.”
“Why?”
The attacker laughed again.
“Because she's a Romano.”
The room stopped.
I stared at my daughter.
“No.”
The man smiled.
“Ask her mother who Mia's father really was.”
May you like
Gabriel slowly turned toward me.
And for the first time in eight years, the secret I had buried deeper than my own name was no longer mine alone.
