Chapter 2 - THREE DAYS
Raffaele had lived eighteen years believing Beatrice died the night she disappeared.
Grace Mercer destroyed that belief in one sentence.
Three days.
Raffaele stood motionless.
Sofia watched her father’s face.
He did not blink.
“Explain.”
Grace looked toward Caleb.
“You wanted this.”
Caleb answered, “I wanted the truth.”
“No. You wanted power.”
Grace’s voice sharpened.
“You thought if you knew more than Raffaele, Sofia would never leave you.”
Sofia stared at Caleb.
“What?”
He said nothing.
Grace looked at her.
“He has been terrified you would cancel the wedding.”
Sofia laughed once.
Disbelief.
“So he interrogated me about my dead sister?”
“He thought you remembered something valuable.”
Raffaele stepped closer.
“What?”
Grace looked at him.
“The name of the man Beatrice trusted.”
Raffaele’s jaw tightened.
“Beatrice trusted many people.”
“Not this one.”
Grace sat slowly.
For the first time, she looked her age.
Not like the elegant Mercer matriarch downstairs.
Like a woman who had carried something too long.
“Eighteen years ago, the Mercer family was weaker than yours.”
Raffaele said nothing.
“My husband, Thomas, was trying to keep us out of the Santoro-Valenti conflict.”
“Thomas died sixteen years ago.”
“Yes.”
“What does he have to do with Beatrice?”
“Everything.”
Sofia whispered, “You knew my sister.”
Grace nodded.
“I met her twice.”
Raffaele’s voice dropped.
“Where?”
“Once at a charity dinner.”
“And the second?”
Grace looked at him.
“The night before she disappeared.”
Raffaele felt something dark move under his ribs.
“Why?”
“She came to my house.”
“Alone?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Grace hesitated.
Caleb smiled bitterly.
“There it is.”
Raffaele turned toward him.
Caleb leaned against the wall.
“My mother has been protecting one name since before I was old enough to understand what it meant.”
Grace whispered, “Because it kept you alive.”
Caleb’s face tightened.
“Did it?”
Raffaele ignored the family fracture.
“Name.”
Grace looked toward Sofia.
“No.”
Raffaele stepped closer.
“Grace.”
“If Sofia remembers on her own, that is one thing.”
“Do not use my daughter as a shield.”
“I’m trying not to put a target on her.”
Raffaele’s eyes hardened.
“A man put his hands on her today because of this secret.”
Grace looked at Caleb with disgust.
“That was never supposed to happen.”
Raffaele almost laughed.
Everyone in their world used that phrase after damage was done.
Never supposed to.
As though intention buried consequence.
Sofia stood.
“I want to know.”
Raffaele turned.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
She looked at Grace.
“But I want to.”
Grace’s shoulders lowered.
“The man who brought Beatrice to my house was Luca Santoro.”
Raffaele stopped breathing.
Sofia frowned.
“Who?”
Raffaele answered.
“My brother.”
Sofia stared.
“You told me Uncle Luca died before Beatrice.”
“He disappeared before.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Raffaele closed his eyes briefly.
Another old lie.
Luca Santoro had vanished nineteen years ago after a violent argument with Raffaele.
The family story said Luca was killed abroad.
No body returned.
Raffaele had allowed that story to stand because the truth was worse.
Luca had betrayed him.
Or Raffaele believed he had.
“Beatrice trusted Luca?” Sofia asked.
Grace nodded.
“More than anyone.”
Raffaele turned on her.
“My daughter hated him.”
“No.”
“She told me she did.”
“She was protecting you.”
“From what?”
Grace looked at him.
“From what you would do if you knew Luca was still in the city.”
Raffaele’s face became stone.
Caleb laughed softly.
“See? Everyone knew what kind of man you were except you.”
Raffaele crossed the room.
Sofia moved.
“Dad.”
One word.
He stopped.
Caleb saw that.
So did Grace.
Raffaele stepped back.
“Continue.”
Grace said Beatrice discovered Luca had returned secretly.
She met him.
He told her the Valenti family had not been responsible for the thefts and killings being blamed on them.
Someone inside Santoro territory was manufacturing attacks.
“Who?”
“He didn’t know.”
“That’s convenient.”
“He suspected someone close to you.”
Raffaele's expression changed.
“Who?”
“Beatrice never told me.”
“Why did she come to you?”
“Because she needed a neutral house.”
“The Mercers were neutral.”
“At the time.”
“And Thomas?”
“He agreed to hide her for one night.”
Raffaele stared.
“Hide her from me.”
Grace nodded.
“Why?”
“Because Beatrice believed whoever was watching Luca was also watching you.”
Sofia whispered, “Then what happened?”
Grace looked toward the black iron rose.
“The next morning Beatrice was gone.”
Raffaele’s voice turned cold.
“From your house.”
“Yes.”
“You let my daughter disappear.”
Grace’s face tightened.
“I woke up and the guest room was empty.”
“And Luca?”
“Gone.”
Raffaele took one step.
“Three days later I found Beatrice dead.”
Grace nodded.
“Yes.”
“How do you know she lived three days?”
Grace looked at Caleb.
Then toward the velvet pouch.
“Because Thomas saw her on the second day.”
The room went silent.
“Where?”
“At the river house.”
Raffaele stared.
“My house?”
“He followed a car there.”
“Whose car?”
Grace closed her eyes.
“Your consigliere’s.”
Raffaele’s voice became almost inaudible.
“Name.”
Grace looked at him.
“Vincent Moretti.”
Sofia had heard the name all her life.
Uncle Vincent.
Raffaele’s oldest friend.
The man who stood beside him at Beatrice’s funeral.
May you like
The man who had helped him wage war against the Valentis.
The man downstairs right now, waiting to escort Sofia to the altar.
