Chapter 6 - The Man Who Raised Me
For six years, I believed I had lost my brother in a fire.
I never considered the possibility that I lost him because someone wanted him gone.
The difference between those two thoughts was something I could not explain.
A fire was tragedy.
A betrayal was something else.
A fire meant the world was cruel.
A betrayal meant someone looked me in the eyes afterward and lied.
Every family gathering.
Every meeting.
Every time my uncle placed a hand on my shoulder and told me I had become the man my father wanted me to be.
All of it changed.
Because now I had one question.
How long had he known?
And worse.
How long had he been pretending?
---
My uncle Vincent Moretti arrived at the estate before noon.
He did not run.
He did not panic.
That was what made him dangerous.
A guilty man rushed.
An innocent man defended himself.
Vincent did neither.
He simply walked through the front doors like he owned the place.
Because for decades, he had.
“Gabriel.”
His voice was calm.
Familiar.
Almost comforting.
That was the cruelest part.
I had spent half my life trusting that voice.
“You look tired.”
I stood in the center of the room.
“I had a difficult night.”
He removed his gloves.
“I heard about Celeste.”
Of course he did.
News traveled quickly in Chicago.
Especially inside families built on secrets.
“What did you hear?”
He looked at me.
“That your wedding may not happen.”
I watched his reaction carefully.
Not his words.
His eyes.
His breathing.
His hands.
People lied with their mouths.
But their bodies always told the truth.
“Interesting.”
“What is?”
“You knew about the wedding problem before I told anyone.”
A small pause.
Too small for anyone else.
Not for me.
“I have people everywhere.”
“That sounds like an excuse.”
Vincent smiled.
“There he is.”
“Who?”
“The Gabriel I remember.”
I said nothing.
The old Gabriel would have laughed.
The old Gabriel would have trusted him.
The old Gabriel would have believed that family was different.
But the old Gabriel had buried his brother.
The old Gabriel had been wrong.
---
“You accessed the estate security system.”
Vincent looked at me.
“I did.”
No hesitation.
That surprised me.
“Why?”
“To protect you.”
I almost laughed.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“People who protect me do not hide things from me.”
Vincent’s face changed.
Only slightly.
But it changed.
“What did Delia tell you?”
There it was.
The name.
He knew.
I had not mentioned her.
Not once.
“How do you know her name?”
Silence.
A dangerous silence.
Then Vincent sighed.
“Because I know more than you think.”
“That is becoming a problem.”
“Gabriel.”
“No.”
My voice became colder.
“You do not get to use my name like you are still the man who taught me how to hold a gun.”
His expression hardened.
That hurt him.
Good.
Because I needed him to understand.
Something between us had broken.
And it was not because I stopped loving him.
It was because I finally saw him.
“Your father made mistakes.”
I stared.
“Do not talk about my father.”
“He was not the man you thought.”
“You sound exactly like Celeste.”
That made him freeze.
Only for a moment.
But enough.
“You spoke to her.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She knows about Ewan.”
Vincent looked away.
A mistake.
A bigger one.
Because I had my answer.
He knew.
Maybe not everything.
Maybe not every detail.
But he knew.
“What happened at Pier 44?”
He remained silent.
“Tell me.”
Still nothing.
I moved closer.
“Tell me what happened to my brother.”
His jaw tightened.
Then he said something I never expected.
“Ewan was going to destroy this family.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
Not because they shocked me.
Because they confirmed my fear.
“You believe he deserved to die?”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
Too instantly.
“I never said that.”
“But you know why it happened.”
Vincent looked at me.
And for the first time, I saw something behind his eyes.
Regret.
Real regret.
“Your brother was trying to expose something bigger than any of us understood.”
“What?”
“A network.”
“Inside our organization?”
“Inside everything.”
He walked toward the window.
“Your father built an empire.”
“Yes.”
“But he also built enemies.”
“Who?”
Vincent looked back.
“People who do not care about money.”
I waited.
“They care about control.”
---
That afternoon, I returned to Delia.
She was awake.
When she saw my face, she already knew.
“You talked to him.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He knew.”
Delia closed her eyes.
“I was afraid.”
“Why?”
“Because Vincent Moretti loved Ewan.”
That sentence confused me.
“What?”
“He was not the enemy your brother feared.”
I stared at her.
“Then why did you accuse him?”
“Because he was involved.”
“Those are different things.”
“Yes.”
She looked down.
“Your uncle protected Ewan.”
My anger shifted.
“What?”
“He tried.”
“Tried?”
Delia nodded.
“But he was too late.”
“Why?”
“Because there was someone above him.”
The room became quiet.
“Above Vincent?”
“Yes.”
I felt a cold sensation move through me.
Because if Vincent was not the top...
Then the person responsible was still hidden.
“Who?”
Delia hesitated.
Then she reached into the drawer beside her bed.
She removed a small envelope.
Old.
Yellowed.
My name was written on the front.
Gabriel Moretti.
My heart stopped.
“Ewan left this.”
I stared at it.
“When?”
“Before Pier 44.”
“Why did you keep it?”
“Because he told me only to give it to you when you were ready.”
I looked at the envelope.
Six years.
Six years this had been hidden.
Six years the truth had waited.
I opened it.
Inside was one page.
Only one sentence.
But it was enough to change everything.
Gabriel.
The person who betrayed us is not the person you think.
The person who ordered my death is the person you trust most.
My phone rang.
Matteo.
I answered.
“Boss.”
His voice was different.
Fearful.
“What happened?”
“We found the security footage from the night Delia was attacked.”
“And?”
A pause.
Then:
“Celeste was not alone.”
My grip tightened.
“Who was with her?”
Another pause.
Then Matteo said:
“Your mother’s doctor.”
I looked at Delia.
The same doctor who had treated my mother for four years.
The same doctor who told us she would never speak again.
And suddenly I understood.
May you like
My mother was never unable to talk.
Someone had made sure she could not.
