Chapter 7 - THE MAN WHO WATCHED MY MOTHER DIE
“Thomas Bell lived in our town?”
I stared at Sebastian.
He nodded slowly.
“That's what the records show.”
I shook my head.
“What's his address?”
Sebastian looked at Dante.
“There's more.”
“Tell her,” Dante said.
Sebastian hesitated.
“Thomas changed his surname after leaving New York. He's been living under the name Thomas Bennett.”
Mrs. Bennett made a small sound.
We all turned.
Her face had gone white.
“That's my brother,” she whispered.
Silence.
Dante stared at her.
“Your brother?”
Mrs. Bennett nodded.
“He left New York after Alessandro died. He said he couldn't work for the family anymore.”
I felt the ground shift beneath me.
“Did he know my mother?”
The elderly woman closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Did he know where we lived?”
“Yes.”
My throat tightened.
“Then he watched us?”
She looked ashamed.
“He was supposed to watch for Vincent's people.”
“Supposed to?”
Mrs. Bennett swallowed.
“Evelyn didn't trust him completely.”
Dante crossed his arms.
“Why not?”
“Because Thomas worked directly for Alessandro. He was there the night Alessandro died.”
Sebastian looked toward the photograph.
“And he may have witnessed the shooting.”
I stared at the old image.
The man standing behind Vincent had a narrow face and a distinctive scar above his eyebrow.
Something about him seemed familiar.
Then I remembered.
A man used to sit in a dark sedan near our apartment.
Not every day.
Not even every week.
But often enough that I'd noticed him.
I was sixteen when I finally asked my mother about him.
She'd gone very quiet.
Then she'd told me never to accept a ride from anyone I didn't know.
“I've seen him,” I whispered.
Dante turned.
“Where?”
“Outside our apartment. When I was a teenager.”
Mrs. Bennett covered her mouth.
“Oh, Olivia.”
I stepped away.
“Was my entire childhood being watched?”
Nobody answered.
I looked at Dante.
“Tell me the truth.”
He met my eyes.
“I don't know how much they knew. But we'll find out.”
I shook my head.
“You keep saying that.”
“I know.”
“And every answer makes things worse.”
His expression softened.
“I know that too.”
For a moment, I saw something beneath his intimidating exterior.
A man who'd grown up surrounded by secrets.
A boy who'd lost his father and sister on the same terrible night.
Someone who had spent years believing his family was stronger because nobody questioned it.
Now the foundation of his life was collapsing.
And mine was collapsing beside it.
“I want to go to Pennsylvania,” I said.
Dante nodded.
“Then we'll go.”
“No private army.”
His mouth tightened.
“Olivia—”
“I mean it.”
“Vincent is still dangerous.”
“Then bring Marco. But don't make my hometown look like a war zone.”
Dante considered this.
“Agreed.”
Sebastian stepped forward.
“I should come.”
Margaret immediately shook her head.
“No.”
Sebastian looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because your father may be watching.”
He stared.
“He's been watching all of us.”
Nobody argued.
The following morning, we drove to Pennsylvania.
Orion occupied most of the back seat.
I sat beside him, watching the highway disappear beneath gray autumn skies.
Dante sat across from me.
For nearly an hour, neither of us spoke.
Then he handed me a paper bag.
Inside was a blueberry muffin.
I stared.
“How did you know?”
“You ordered one at the restaurant on your break.”
“You noticed?”
He shrugged.
“Orion notices everything. I try to keep up.”
I smiled despite myself.
Then I looked out the window.
“My mother used to buy these on Sundays.”
Dante nodded.
“Mine made pancakes.”
I glanced at him.
“Your mother cooked?”
“Terribly.”
I laughed.
He smiled.
A real smile this time.
“She burned everything. Even toast. But she insisted breakfast should be made by someone who loved you.”
I looked down at the muffin.
“My mother said almost the same thing.”
For a moment, the two women felt close.
Not like mysterious names in old photographs.
Like mothers.
Two women who had raised children under impossible circumstances.
When we reached Lancaster County, I directed Marco toward the small apartment building where Evelyn and I had lived.
It looked smaller than I remembered.
The brick was faded.
The front steps needed repair.
A familiar ache settled in my chest.
I pointed toward the second-floor window.
“That was ours.”
Dante followed my gaze.
“You grew up here?”
“From nine until seventeen.”
He studied the building.
Then he looked at me.
“You deserved better.”
I shook my head.
“I had better.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“My mother loved me. We laughed. We made popcorn on Friday nights. We watched old movies and argued about which actor was the most handsome.”
A smile touched my lips.
“She always picked Gregory Peck.”
Dante looked at the building again.
“Then I stand corrected.”
I turned toward the neighboring house.
A white porch.
A blue mailbox.
A small garden full of chrysanthemums.
My heart began pounding.
“That's where he lived.”
“Thomas?”
I nodded.
The elderly man standing on the porch looked up as we approached.
He had thinning gray hair.
A cane.
And a scar above his eyebrow.
His expression changed when he saw me.
“Olivia?”
I stopped.
“You know me.”
He looked at Dante.
Then at Orion.
His hand began trembling.
“I wondered when you'd come.”
Dante stepped forward.
“Thomas Bell.”
The old man closed his eyes.
“I haven't used that name in twenty-six years.”
“Then it's time you started.”
Thomas looked exhausted.
“Come inside.”
His house smelled of coffee and furniture polish.
Family photographs lined the mantel.
One showed him standing beside Evelyn at a church picnic.
I stared.
“She trusted you?”
Thomas followed my gaze.
“Sometimes.”
“Why were you watching us?”
He lowered himself into a chair.
“Because I owed your mother a debt.”
“What debt?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“The night Alessandro died, I was supposed to protect Elena and the baby.”
I felt cold.
“You failed.”
“Yes.”
He didn't defend himself.
That surprised me.
Thomas looked at Dante.
“Your father sent me to retrieve the financial records Vincent had stolen.”
“Then who shot him?”
Thomas's jaw tightened.
“Vincent.”
Dante went still.
“Did you see it?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you testify?”
“Because Vincent threatened my family. My wife was pregnant. I was afraid.”
I stared at him.
“And Evelyn?”
Thomas's voice trembled.
“She found me hiding in the garage after the shooting. I was bleeding. Vincent's men had beaten me.”
“Did she help you?”
“She saved my life.”
He looked down at his hands.
“That's why I watched over her. I couldn't undo what happened. But I could try to keep her safe.”
I swallowed.
“What happened the day she died?”
Thomas looked at me for a long time.
Then he reached into a drawer.
He removed a folded hospital discharge form.
“Your mother had a heart condition,” he said gently. “She'd been ill for years.”
I nodded.
I knew that.
Evelyn had collapsed at work.
The doctors had tried to save her.
I had been there when she died.
Thomas continued.
“Two days before her final hospitalization, she came here.”
I stared.
“She did?”
“She knew she was getting weaker. She asked me to promise something.”
“What?”
Thomas opened a small wooden drawer.
Inside was a cassette player.
He placed a tape inside.
My heart began pounding.
The machine clicked.
For several seconds, there was only static.
Then I heard a familiar voice.
“Olivia, sweetheart, if you're hearing this, it means somebody finally found the courage to tell you the truth.”
My knees weakened.
My mother.
Evelyn.
Her voice was older than I remembered.
Tired.
But unmistakably hers.
“I need you to understand something. I never stole you. Elena placed you in my arms because she loved you more than her own life.”
Tears streamed down my face.
“I loved you from the first moment you opened your eyes. Nothing anyone tells you can change that.”
I covered my mouth.
Dante stood perfectly still.
Then Evelyn's voice changed.
“There is something else you need to know.”
A pause.
“I know who Vincent trusted most. I know how he moved his money. And I know why he was never arrested.”
Thomas lowered his eyes.
The tape crackled.
“Dante, if you're listening, please forgive your mother. She didn't betray your father. She tried to save him.”
Another pause.
Then Evelyn said something that made everyone freeze.
“The proof isn't in the watch. The watch only tells you where to look.”
Dante stepped closer.
Evelyn continued.
“The real evidence is in the one place Vincent never thought to search.”
My heart pounded.
“Where?” I whispered.
The tape hissed.
Then my mother's voice returned.
“Inside the old blue coat Elena wore the day Olivia was born.”
Thomas looked up sharply.
Dante frowned.
“My mother was buried in that coat.”
The room went silent.
Then Thomas shook his head.
“No,” he whispered.
“Why not?” Dante demanded.
Thomas looked directly at me.
“Because Evelyn took the coat before Elena's funeral.”
I stopped breathing.
“Where is it?”
Thomas swallowed.
May you like
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
“Olivia, your mother buried it beneath her own gravestone.”
