Chapter 11
The Black Orchard had not produced fruit in fifteen years.
Dead trees covered the hillside like crooked hands.
Rocco arrived alone.
Mostly.
Anthony Bell stayed half a mile back because Rocco had learned “alone” was often another word for “vulnerable.”
He entered the farmhouse.
Maria stood near the kitchen.
Noah slept on the couch under a blanket.
Rocco crossed immediately.
Checked him.
Clean clothes.
No injuries.
His stuffed dog beside him.
Rocco kissed his forehead.
Then turned.
Matteo stood in the doorway.
Fifty-one now.
Older.
Scar across the cheek.
Same dark eyes.
Rocco stared.
“Twenty-two years.”
Matteo nodded.
Rocco hit him.
One punch.
Matteo staggered.
Maria closed her eyes.
Rocco hit him again.
Matteo recovered.
“Finished?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Rocco almost laughed.
Then he embraced him.
Hard.
Matteo hesitated.
Then held him.
Neither spoke.
When they separated, Rocco’s eyes were wet.
He did not hide it.
“Why?”
Matteo looked toward Noah.
“Because August wanted you to kill Thomas.”
“I did.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He wanted me next.”
“You survived.”
“With Leonard’s father’s help.”
Rocco frowned.
“August said Leonard’s father worked with Thomas.”
“He did.”
“Against us?”
“Against Carlo.”
Rocco’s jaw tightened.
“Different?”
“Yes.”
Matteo sat.
“Carlo had August watching everyone.”
“Father trusted him.”
“Too much.”
“Leonard’s father believed Carlo was destroying the family by using August.”
“So he planned a split.”
“Yes.”
“Carlo ordered him killed.”
Matteo shook his head.
“No.”
Another lie.
“What?”
“Carlo ordered him exiled.”
Rocco stared.
“August turned exile into death.”
“Why?”
“To make Leonard hate Carlo’s sons.”
Rocco closed his eyes.
Every branch directed toward revenge.
Matteo continued.
“Leonard’s father survived for years.”
“Where?”
“Canada.”
“Leonard knew?”
“No.”
“When did he die?”
“Twelve years ago.”
“Natural?”
“Yes.”
Rocco almost laughed.
A normal death finally.
“What did Elena find?”
Matteo looked toward Maria.
“She found me.”
“When?”
“Six months before she died.”
Rocco’s voice lowered.
“You saw my wife.”
“Yes.”
“And didn’t see me.”
“I wanted to.”
“Then why not?”
“Elena asked me to wait.”
Rocco felt anger.
Then stopped.
“Why?”
“Because she thought August and Leonard were both moving.”
“What did Leonard want?”
“Proof about his father.”
“Why not give it?”
“I planned to.”
“Then?”
Matteo looked away.
“He wanted more.”
“What?”
“August.”
“To kill him?”
“Yes.”
Rocco frowned.
“Reasonable.”
Matteo smiled faintly.
“You really are Rocco.”
“Continue.”
“Leonard wanted me to help him kill August and then make it look like you ordered it.”
Rocco’s expression changed.
“Why?”
“So August’s men would move against you.”
“Family war.”
“Yes.”
“Why destroy me?”
“Because Leonard no longer cared who was guilty.”
Rocco understood.
Leonard had spent decades believing Bellacorte blood killed his father.
Finding out the details did not cure the hatred.
It only made the target larger.
“Elena refused.”
Matteo nodded.
“She told Leonard she would tell you everything.”
“What happened?”
“They argued.”
“Did he kill her?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“I was on the phone with her after Leonard left.”
Rocco stopped breathing.
“Elena called you.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Twenty minutes before the crash.”
“What did she say?”
“She was scared.”
“Of Leonard?”
“No.”
“August?”
“No.”
Rocco stared.
“Who?”
Matteo looked at Maria.
Then back at him.
“She said Bianca Hayes had found her.”
Silence.
Rocco felt the room change.
“No.”
Matteo nodded.
“Three years ago.”
Bianca had told Rocco she met him two years ago.
“What did Bianca want?”
“She wanted to know whether you regretted Thomas.”
Rocco’s face hardened.
“Did Elena answer?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“That you never spoke his name.”
Rocco looked away.
True.
Cowardice can look like forgetting from the outside.
Matteo continued.
“Bianca asked Elena where Thomas died.”
“Elena knew?”
“Maria told her.”
Rocco looked at Maria.
She lowered her eyes.
“Then?”
“Elena said she would take Bianca to the cellar.”
Rocco’s voice became quiet.
“Was Bianca in the car?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Elena called me after leaving her.”
“What did she say?”
“That Bianca was being used by August.”
Rocco closed his eyes.
“And the crash?”
Matteo shook his head.
“Elena said someone was following her.”
“Who?”
“She saw wolf cufflinks when the driver stepped out.”
Leonard.
Rocco’s breathing slowed.
Matteo continued.
“But there was one problem.”
“What?”
“Leonard was with me that night.”
Rocco looked up.
“Where?”
“Here.”
“Then the cufflinks were copied.”
“Yes.”
Same trick Clara saw.
Someone wanted Leonard blamed.
Again.
Rocco whispered:
“August.”
Matteo shook his head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
May you like
Matteo looked toward sleeping Noah.
“The person who has spent twenty-two years making every Bellacorte revenge the wrong man.”
