Chapter 6 - THE TRUTH MY MOTHER BURIED
My mother answered on the third ring.
“Elena? Honey, it’s almost five in the morning.”
“Who was Dad?”
Silence.
No confusion.
No hesitation.
Just silence.
My heart broke before she even answered.
“Where are you?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“Was his name Gabriel Serrano?”
I heard her inhale.
“Elena—”
“Oh my God.”
“Listen to me.”
“You lied.”
“I protected you.”
“From what?”
“From him.”
I paced across Dante’s study.
Dante stood by the window.
Giving me privacy while hearing every word.
“He died.”
“No.”
Mom’s voice cracked.
“He ran.”
“Why?”
“Because he was going to be killed.”
“By the Morettis?”
Dante turned slightly.
Mom went silent again.
“Answer me.”
“He worked with Dante’s father.”
“Doing what?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“I have men threatening to kill me. I think I need to know.”
She gasped.
“What?”
“I saved Dante Moretti’s son tonight.”
A long pause.
Then my mother whispered, “Dear God.”
“So start talking.”
She did.
My father had been an accountant.
Not an ordinary one.
He moved money for criminal organizations.
The Morettis.
The Carusos.
Other names Mom refused to say.
Then one day, millions disappeared.
Dante’s father blamed Gabriel.
Gabriel blamed someone else.
Before anyone found the truth, Gabriel vanished.
My mother took me to Arizona.
Changed our last name.
Buried everything.
“Is he alive?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a lie.”
“I swear.”
“Where did the money go?”
Another silence.
“Elena.”
“What?”
“There was an account.”
My stomach tightened.
“What account?”
“In your name.”
Dante turned fully around.
I stared at him.
“How much?”
“I don’t know now.”
“How much then?”
“Nearly twelve million dollars.”
My knees almost gave out.
“Twelve million?”
“It wasn’t ours.”
“Then why was it in my name?”
“Your father needed somewhere no one would look.”
I started laughing.
I couldn’t help it.
I was living paycheck to paycheck.
My shoes were glued together.
My refrigerator sounded possessed.
And somewhere, apparently, millions had once been hidden under my name.
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Elena,” Dante said quietly.
I held up a hand.
Mom continued.
“Your father gave me a key.”
“What kind?”
“Safety deposit box.”
“Where?”
“Chicago.”
Of course.
Dante stepped closer.
I wrote down the bank.
Box number.
Then Mom whispered, “There’s something else.”
My stomach dropped.
“There always is.”
“Gabriel said if anyone ever came looking for the account, never trust a Caruso.”
I looked at Dante.
“And?”
“Never trust a Moretti either.”
The room went silent.
Dante heard it.
I knew he did.
Mom started crying.
“Honey, get away from those people.”
I looked into Dante’s unreadable face.
“I may be a little late.”
We ended the call.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I said, “Did your father try to kill mine?”
“Yes.”
At least he didn’t lie.
“Would you have?”
“If I believed he stole from my family?”
Dante paused.
“Twenty years ago, yes.”
“And now?”
His gaze settled on me.
“Now I’d ask who actually stole the money.”
“Why?”
“Because your father wasn’t smart enough to hide twelve million dollars.”
I almost laughed.
“You knew him?”
“I met him once.”
“What was he like?”
“Terrified.”
I looked away.
Dante approached slowly.
“Elena.”
“What?”
“The bank opens at nine.”
“And?”
“We’re going.”
I stared at him.
“You think there’s still something in that box?”
“Yes.”
“How can you be sure?”
He looked toward the photograph of his father on the wall.
“Because three people were killed trying to find that key.”
A chill went through me.
Then his phone buzzed.
He checked the screen.
His face hardened.
“What?”
He showed me.
Security footage from outside my mother’s house.
A black SUV had stopped across the street.
Two men stepped out.
May you like
One held a photograph.
The photograph was of my mother.
