Chapter 8 - SUNDAY DINNER
Sunday at 5:52 p.m., Dante Moretti stood outside a house he had not entered in twenty-two years.
Emma stood beside him.
He looked at her.
“I told you not to come.”
“You’ve told me a lot of things.”
“This one mattered.”
“So did the fish.”
Dante rubbed his forehead.
“You are unbelievably difficult.”
Mrs. Moretti signed from behind them.
Emma smiled.
Dante looked suspicious.
“What?”
“She agrees.”
His mother signed again.
Emma laughed.
“What now?”
“She says you were worse as a child.”
Dante stared at both women.
“This is a serious situation.”
Emma nodded.
“Yes. Terrible. Very frightening.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
Lily remained in a secure apartment with two guards and strict orders not to open the door.
She had responded to Dante’s orders with one middle finger.
Emma had decided they were becoming friends.
The old house sat near the edge of the Hudson.
No cars.
No visible guards.
No sound.
Dante knocked.
The door opened immediately.
Gabriel Moretti stood there.
He was thinner than Dante.
Taller.
Gray beard.
Same eyes.
Same mouth.
But where Dante looked controlled, Gabriel looked amused.
“Ma.”
Mrs. Moretti froze.
Gabriel signed to her.
Fluently.
Emma stared.
Mrs. Moretti burst into tears.
Gabriel hugged her.
Dante looked punched.
“You sign?”
Gabriel looked at him.
“You don’t?”
That landed.
Dante’s jaw tightened.
Gabriel released his mother.
“I started learning after Dad died.”
“Why?”
“Because she was alone.”
Dante stepped closer.
“You disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“You let us think you were dead.”
“Yes.”
“You let Ma bury you without a body.”
Gabriel’s smile disappeared.
“I did what I had to do.”
Dante grabbed his shirt.
Emma stepped forward.
“Dante.”
Gabriel didn’t resist.
“Still angry first, questions later?”
Dante shoved him away.
“You had fourteen years to answer questions.”
Gabriel straightened his jacket.
“And you had seventeen years to ask Ma some.”
Silence.
Mrs. Moretti signed angrily at both sons.
Emma translated.
“She says if either of you starts fighting before dinner, she’ll leave.”
Gabriel smiled.
Dante looked irritated.
Emma said, “I think she means it.”
They entered.
A table had been set for five.
Dante noticed.
“Who else is coming?”
Gabriel poured wine.
“Someone you know.”
Dante didn’t sit.
“Who?”
Gabriel looked at his watch.
“Two minutes.”
Dante reached inside his jacket.
Gabriel laughed.
“You bring a gun to dinner with your brother?”
“Yes.”
“Dad would be proud.”
“Dad is dead.”
Gabriel’s expression darkened.
“Because of you.”
The room went silent.
Dante froze.
“What did you say?”
Gabriel poured another glass.
“You heard me.”
Dante moved toward him.
Emma stepped between them.
“No.”
Dante looked down at her.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Emma.”
“You want answers? Stop punching the people who have them.”
Gabriel smiled.
“I like her.”
Dante snapped, “Nobody asked.”
A knock came at the door.
Gabriel’s face changed.
“Right on time.”
He opened it.
Sal walked in.
Dante went completely still.
Sal stopped.
“Boss.”
Dante looked from Sal to Gabriel.
“You.”
Sal said nothing.
Dante reached for his weapon.
Mrs. Moretti slammed her hand on the table.
Everyone froze.
She signed.
Emma translated.
“She says sit down.”
Dante stared at Sal.
Then sat.
So did the others.
Gabriel leaned forward.
“Seventeen years ago, Dad planned to hand part of the business to me.”
Dante frowned.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“He didn’t trust you.”
“He didn’t trust anybody. That was the problem.”
Gabriel continued.
“Michael Santoro knew about the red book. Dad planned to use it to walk away from certain partnerships.”
“What partnerships?”
Gabriel looked at Sal.
Sal answered.
“Judges. Police. Contractors. People outside the family.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Dad wanted out.”
Dante laughed.
“Our father never wanted out.”
“He did after your youngest brother overdosed.”
Dante’s face changed.
Emma hadn’t heard about another brother.
Gabriel continued.
“He blamed the business.”
Dante whispered, “Nico made his own choices.”
“Sure. That’s what Dad told himself too.”
Gabriel took a breath.
“Then somebody poisoned Dad.”
Dante’s fingers curled.
“Who?”
Gabriel looked directly at him.
“You signed the order.”
Dante stared.
“No.”
Gabriel reached under the table.
Dante grabbed his gun.
Emma gasped.
Gabriel slowly pulled out a folder.
He slid it across.
Inside was a photocopy.
A typed order.
Carlo Moretti.
Termination authorized.
At the bottom was Dante’s signature.
Dante stared at it.
“That is not mine.”
Gabriel’s voice was quiet.
“It looks like yours.”
“It was forged.”
“Maybe.”
Dante looked at Sal.
“You believe this?”
Sal’s eyes dropped.
That was answer enough.
Dante stood.
“You thought I killed my own father?”
Sal whispered, “For seventeen years.”
Dante looked around the table.
His own mother was crying.
His own brother believed him capable of murder.
His closest man had suspected him.
Emma watched something inside Dante crack.
Then Gabriel said, “The red book proves who forged your signature.”
Dante looked at him.
“Where is it?”
Gabriel’s expression changed.
“I was hoping you knew.”
A gunshot shattered the dining room window.
Gabriel dropped.
May you like
Blood spread across his shirt.
Mrs. Moretti screamed without sound.
