Chapter 8 - THE DEAD MAN
“My father died before I was born.”
“That’s what your mother told you.”
I slapped David.
Hard.
The sound cracked through the hotel room.
He touched his cheek.
“I deserved that.”
“Yes.”
Adrian stepped between us.
“Name.”
David hesitated.
“Thomas Vale.”
Adrian went rigid.
I noticed immediately.
“You know him.”
He didn’t answer fast enough.
“Adrian.”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
“A federal prosecutor.”
My stomach dropped.
David added quietly, “Former federal prosecutor.”
“Why would a prosecutor work with Victor?”
Adrian’s eyes stayed on David.
“Thomas Vale spent twenty years trying to destroy my family.”
“And he’s my father?”
David nodded.
I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because sometimes your brain breaks before the rest of you does.
“My mother was secretly working for the Morettis. My supposedly dead father is alive. My ex-boyfriend gave him a key to evidence everyone is apparently willing to kill for.”
“That sounds accurate,” David said.
I slapped him again.
Adrian almost smiled.
“Where is Vale?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
Adrian’s phone buzzed.
He checked it.
“Now we do.”
Thomas Vale was waiting for us in an abandoned church outside Newark.
Apparently dramatic criminals loved abandoned buildings.
I was getting tired of it.
He stood near the altar.
Sixties.
Gray hair.
Tall.
Blue eyes.
My eyes.
That was the first thing I noticed.
The second was that he looked at me like he had been waiting my whole life for this moment.
“Emma.”
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“Don’t say my name like you know me.”
“I knew your mother.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“She loved you.”
“Everybody keeps telling me what dead people thought.”
His face tightened.
Good.
I wanted him hurt.
“Are you my father?”
“Yes.”
The word landed like a punch.
“Why did Mom tell me you were dead?”
“Because she was protecting you.”
“From who?”
He looked at Adrian.
“Him.”
Adrian didn’t react.
I did.
“You hired Victor.”
“To recover evidence.”
“You tried to kill me.”
“No.”
“Victor said—”
“Victor lies.”
“Everyone lies!”
My voice echoed through the church.
Thomas took one step toward me.
“Your mother discovered that both the Moretti organization and federal agents were involved in corruption. She stole proof from both sides.”
Adrian frowned.
“What proof?”
“A ledger.”
Thomas looked at me.
“It can destroy judges, senators, police officials, business owners—and every major Moretti operation on the East Coast.”
I turned to Adrian.
His jaw was tight.
“Is that true?”
“I don’t know.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
Thomas reached into his coat.
Adrian drew his gun instantly.
“Easy,” Thomas said.
He pulled out an envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
My mother holding me as a baby.
Thomas stood beside her.
And behind them—
Adrian’s father.
On the back, in my mother’s handwriting, were five words:
WHEN EMMA IS READY, 314.
I stared.
“314?”
Thomas nodded.
“We believe it’s a location.”
“Where?”
“We never found out.”
Then Adrian’s phone rang.
His security chief.
Adrian answered.
“What?”
His expression changed.
“What do you mean she’s gone?”
I stepped closer.
“Who?”
Adrian looked at me.
“Leo’s nanny.”
“So?”
“She took him from the townhouse.”
My heart stopped.
Again.
Then Thomas whispered something worse.
“Her name wouldn’t happen to be Maria, would it?”
Adrian stared at him.
“Yes.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“Oh, God.”
“What?”
Thomas looked at us.
May you like
“Maria Salvi.”
Victor’s daughter.
