Chapter 10 - FIRE
Elias liked symbols.
The burned hand.
The boathouse.
Fire.
Raffaele hated men who confused theater with power.
Anthony Russo found the rear maintenance hatch before the flames reached the old timber wall.
They escaped through the water channel.
The Hawk burned behind them.
Elias was gone.
Again.
No chase.
Not tonight.
Sofia coughed beside Raffaele on the riverbank.
He held her shoulders.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
Better answer.
Dante emerged from the smoke last.
Vincent followed.
Raffaele looked at both men.
“Someone brought Elias there.”
Dante laughed bitterly.
“You think me?”
“I think everyone until I know.”
Vincent said nothing.
Sofia stared at the burning boathouse.
Fire triggered another memory.
Not the boathouse.
The river house.
A lamp falling.
Beatrice shouting.
Luca dragging someone.
Sofia whispered:
“There was fire that night too.”
Raffaele turned.
“What?”
“Small.”
She closed her eyes.
“Curtains.”
Vincent frowned.
“There was no fire when I left.”
“You left before Beatrice died.”
“Yes.”
Sofia remembered hands lifting her.
Luca.
Then Beatrice running back.
Another voice.
Female.
Raffaele saw the change in her face.
“What?”
“There was a woman.”
Grace had been elsewhere.
Who?
Sofia whispered:
“She was crying.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Then:
“She had pearls.”
Raffaele thought of Grace.
Always pearls.
But eighteen years ago?
Sofia shook her head.
“Not Grace.”
“How do you know?”
“The woman called her ‘my Beatrice.’”
Raffaele stopped.
Only Beatrice’s mother would say that.
Catherine Santoro.
Raffaele’s wife.
Dead twelve years.
Sofia stared at him.
“Mom was there.”
Raffaele felt the ground disappear beneath him.
Catherine had told him she spent the night at the estate with Sofia.
If Sofia was at the river house, that was already impossible.
Now she remembered Catherine there.
“Dad?”
Raffaele looked away.
His wife had lied.
His father.
Vincent.
Grace.
Thomas.
Now Catherine.
Everyone around Beatrice had carried pieces.
Raffaele had been the only man powerful enough to start a war and ignorant enough not to know why.
He laughed.
Sofia looked frightened.
Not of him.
For him.
“Dad.”
“I’m fine.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
She had learned his own lesson faster.
“No,” he admitted.
Later that night, back at the estate, Raffaele entered Catherine’s old room.
He had preserved it longer than necessary after her death.
Then eventually allowed the housekeepers to change most of it.
One drawer remained untouched.
Her jewelry box.
Inside were pearl earrings.
A bracelet.
A dried flower.
Nothing.
Raffaele almost closed it.
Then Sofia noticed the lining.
“Dad.”
The velvet lifted.
Beneath it was a photograph.
Catherine.
Beatrice.
Luca.
Together.
Taken two weeks before Beatrice died.
Raffaele stared.
His wife had known Luca was back.
Worse, she had met him with Beatrice.
On the back, Catherine had written:
WE HAVE TO SAVE HIM BEFORE RAFFAELE FINDS OUT.
Sofia whispered, “She was protecting Luca.”
“Yes.”
“From you.”
Raffaele said nothing.
Another object lay beneath the photograph.
A black rose.
Not iron.
Fabric.
Pinned through with a tiny gold needle.
Raffaele recognized the needle.
Catherine used it for sewing.
Maybe she had created a fake Valenti symbol.
Maybe the rose beside Beatrice had not come from Elias.
Maybe Catherine planted it.
Why?
To direct Raffaele away from Luca.
Toward Valenti.
To protect his brother.
If true, Catherine’s act had condemned eleven men.
Protection again.
Raffaele felt sick.
Sofia touched his arm.
“She might have thought they did it.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t know.”
“No.”
Good.
He was learning to say it.
The next morning, Grace asked to speak privately.
She looked exhausted.
“Caleb is gone.”
Raffaele stared.
“What?”
“Your men moved him.”
“No.”
“They told me you ordered it.”
Raffaele’s expression changed.
He had given no order.
Anthony Russo entered seconds later.
Confirmed.
Two guards received instructions by phone using Raffaele’s voice.
Perfect imitation.
Caleb was removed at 3:10 A.M.
Destination unknown.
Raffaele thought of Elias.
A man who had manipulated voices, rumors, appearances for decades.
Grace whispered, “He took my son.”
Raffaele looked at her.
“For leverage?”
“No.”
Her face hardened.
“For punishment.”
“Why?”
Grace looked at the black rose from Catherine’s box.
“Because Caleb knows who Elias really is.”
Raffaele stepped closer.
“You said you barely knew him.”
“I lied.”
“Of course.”
Grace closed her eyes.
“Elias Rourke is not his real name.”
“Then?”
She looked at Raffaele.
“His name is Elias Santoro.”
Silence.
Raffaele stared.
Grace continued.
May you like
“He was your father’s illegitimate son.”
Raffaele’s half-brother.
