Chapter 9 - The Mother Behind the CurtainEmmett did not believe her.
Not at first.
Belief required structure.
Evidence.
Something stronger than a woman standing on a bloody pier telling him his childhood had been built from counterfeit funerals.
“My mother died in St. Joseph’s Hospital.”
Marian shook her head.
“A woman died in St. Joseph’s Hospital.”
“I identified her.”
“After three days.”
Emmett’s face went still.
The memory returned.
Closed casket.
Damage from an aneurysm and fall.
A face swollen beyond familiarity.
His father insisting the burial happen immediately.
“You’re lying.”
Marian looked devastated.
“I helped her leave.”
Emmett raised his gun.
Valerie moved between them.
“Emmett.”
“Move.”
“No.”
“Valerie.”
“She knows where your sister is.”
“I said move.”
Valerie did not.
That was when Emmett realized his hand was shaking.
He lowered the weapon.
Marian continued.
“Sofia knew Salvatore would never let her live freely. After Isabella was moved, Sofia began preparing her own disappearance.”
“Why wait?”
“For you.”
The answer hurt worse than the lie.
“She wanted to take you.”
“She didn’t.”
“Salvatore watched you constantly.”
“So she left me.”
“She believed you were becoming strong enough to survive him.”
Emmett laughed without humor.
“I was nineteen.”
“I know.”
“She abandoned me.”
“Yes.”
Marian did not defend Sofia.
That made the truth more credible.
Valerie watched Emmett carefully.
He turned away.
On the concrete behind him, Matteo was loaded into a private ambulance arranged by Luca.
Delphine sat handcuffed inside an SUV.
Adrian stood nearby, silent and shattered.
Families, Emmett thought.
They were simply criminal organizations people were born into.
“Where is Sofia?” he asked.
Marian hesitated.
“That I don’t know.”
“Convenient.”
“She contacted me over the years.”
“How recently?”
“Yesterday.”
Emmett turned sharply.
“What did she say?”
“To protect Isabella.”
“From whom?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Did she finance Matteo?”
Marian looked confused.
“No.”
“You said the person behind this was my mother.”
“I said she’s behind more than you understand.”
“Explain.”
Marian rubbed her face.
“Sofia has been moving pieces for years.”
“Against who?”
“Salvatore’s old network.”
“He’s dead.”
“The network isn’t.”
Emmett thought of judges.
Police.
Ports.
Developers.
Men who had served Salvatore and then transferred loyalty to Emmett because the name on the checks stayed the same.
“How many of my people?”
Marian looked toward Luca.
Luca stiffened.
“I don’t know.”
“Names.”
“I don’t have them.”
Emmett’s patience thinned.
Valerie touched his sleeve.
A small gesture.
Grounding.
He hated needing it.
He needed it anyway.
By sunrise, they moved everyone to a private medical facility owned through one of Emmett’s legitimate companies.
Matteo went into surgery.
Franca needed stitches but was otherwise unharmed.
Delphine was locked inside a secured room.
Adrian refused to leave her.
Emmett and Valerie drove to Boston.
Neither spoke for the first forty minutes.
Then Valerie said, “You can be angry.”
“I am.”
“You’re being quiet.”
“That’s how I’m angry.”
“I’ve seen you punch people.”
“That’s how I’m irritated.”
She glanced at him.
He stared through the windshield.
“You wanted her to be dead,” Valerie said softly.
His head turned.
“That sounds terrible.”
“It isn’t.”
She continued.
“If she was dead, then she didn’t choose to leave you.”
Emmett looked away.
Valerie understood too easily.
“That’s the problem,” he said.
“What?”
“You remember the boy.”
“Yes.”
“And you keep talking to him.”
“Someone should.”
He said nothing after that.
Massachusetts General was waking into a winter morning when they arrived.
Dr. Isabelle Vance was in surgery.
They waited two hours.
Emmett paced.
Valerie drank bad coffee.
At ten sixteen, a woman in navy scrubs entered the private consultation room.
She was thirty-two.
Dark hair.
Gray-green eyes.
Emmett’s eyes.
She stopped when she saw him.
The file in her hand slipped to the floor.
Nobody spoke.
Emmett had imagined reunion scenes on the drive.
Anger.
Questions.
Recognition.
Instead he could only stare.
Isabelle pressed one hand to her mouth.
“Emmett?”
His chest tightened.
She knew him.
“You know who I am.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I’ve known since I was eighteen.”
The statement cut.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“And you never came.”
Her face collapsed.
“I was told you were dangerous.”
He laughed once.
“Fair.”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“I was told if I contacted you, our mother would die.”
Emmett went still.
Valerie watched from the corner.
“Our mother.”
Isabelle nodded.
“She visited me twice.”
“When?”
“On my eighteenth birthday. Then five years ago.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
Emmett’s jaw tightened.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
“What did she want?”
“To make sure I was safe.”
“Safe.”
The word sounded ugly in his mouth.
Isabelle’s eyes filled again.
“I wanted to find you.”
“But?”
“I was afraid.”
Emmett looked at her for a long time.
Then he saw it.
Not guilt.
The same fear Valerie had carried.
Fear inherited from adults who called control protection.
His anger shifted target.
He stepped forward.
Isabelle did not move.
He hugged her.
Awkwardly.
Rigidly.
As though embracing a sibling required a skill he had never learned.
Isabelle broke immediately.
She gripped the back of his coat and cried against his shoulder.
Emmett closed his eyes.
Three years old.
Thirty-two years old.
Dead.
Alive.
Another grave opened.
Valerie turned toward the window to give them privacy.
Eventually Isabelle pulled back.
“You look like Dad.”
“Unfortunately.”
“He frightened me.”
“He frightened everyone.”
“Mom said you were different.”
Emmett looked toward Valerie.
“She may have overestimated me.”
Valerie’s mouth softened.
Isabelle noticed.
“Who is she?”
“Valerie Russo.”
Isabelle’s face changed.
“You’re Red.”
Valerie froze.
“How do you know that?”
Isabelle looked at Emmett.
“Mom talked about her.”
“What did she say?”
“That keeping Red alive was the only good thing she and Emmett’s father ever agreed on.”
Emmett frowned.
“That contradicts everything.”
Isabelle nodded.
“Mom said Salvatore changed his mind the night of the fire.”
Valerie stepped closer.
“What?”
“He originally ordered Angela killed.”
“And then?”
“He learned Matteo was your father.”
Valerie swallowed.
“So?”
“Salvatore hated Matteo.”
“That sounds like more reason to kill me.”
“No.”
Isabelle looked at Emmett.
“He wanted leverage.”
Emmett understood.
“Alive, Valerie controlled Matteo.”
“Yes.”
Valerie’s face twisted.
“So he spared me because I was useful.”
“Maybe.”
“Heartwarming.”
Isabelle reached into her locker bag.
“There’s something else.”
She removed a sealed envelope.
On the front:
EMMETT.
He recognized the handwriting.
His mother’s.
His hands went cold.
“When did you get this?”
“Five years ago.”
“You kept it?”
“She told me to give it to you only if Valerie came back.”
He stared at her.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Emmett opened it.
Inside was one sheet.
Son,
If Red returns to Providence, the old network has found the trail again.
Do not trust Adrian.
Do not trust Matteo.
Do not trust Franca merely because she loves you.
And do not trust me.
I did what I believed necessary, and necessity is the word cowards use when they cannot admit they made choices.
Protect Isabella.
Protect Valerie.
Then destroy the ledger.
Do not claim the money.
It was never ours.
At the bottom was an address.
A house outside Newport.
And one final sentence.
If you still want answers, come alone.
Emmett folded the letter.
Valerie looked at him.
“Absolutely not.”
“What?”
“You have the face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you plan to ignore obvious danger.”
Isabelle nodded.
“She’s right.”
Emmett stared at his newly returned sister.
“You’ve known me eleven minutes.”
“Family instinct.”
Valerie smiled.
Emmett looked between them.
“This is already terrible.”
His phone rang.
Luca.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Matteo woke up.”
“And?”
“He’s asking for Valerie.”
She heard.
Emmett watched her expression change.
“There’s more,” Luca said.
“What?”
“We found something in Delphine’s phone.”
Emmett’s jaw tightened.
“A payment chain.”
“From who?”
“That’s the problem.”
“What problem?”
“The transfers lead to a foundation.”
“Whose foundation?”
Luca paused.
“The Sofia Castelli Foundation.”
Emmett’s blood chilled.
His mother had not merely survived.
She had been funding something.
Possibly everything.
Valerie looked at the Newport address.
“She wants us there.”
Emmett nodded.
“No.”
Valerie folded her arms.
“No?”
“I’m going alone.”
She took the letter from his hand.
“Then I’ll follow.”
“I’ll have guards stop you.”
“I’ll steal a car.”
“You don’t have a license.”
“I survived homelessness. I can figure out Rhode Island traffic.”
Isabelle raised one hand.
“I like her.”
Emmett sighed.
And for one impossible second, three people who had spent years mourning lies almost looked like a family.
Then Isabelle’s pager sounded.
She checked it.
Her face changed.
“Security alert.”
“What?”
“Someone entered my office.”
Emmett moved first.
They reached the hallway.
A nurse screamed.
Smoke rolled from the administrative wing.
Fire alarms erupted.
Valerie froze.
Again.
Emmett caught her hand.
“Stay with me.”
Isabelle’s office door stood open.
Inside, flames consumed papers.
On the wall, written in black paint:
THE LEDGER OR THE FAMILY.
Beneath it hung a brass button.
May you like
A fourth button.
One Emmett had never carved.
