Chapter 13
Silvio had watched them grow.
That was the first conclusion.
The second was worse.
Someone had allowed him access.
The photograph of Tobin was too close.
Taken from inside the bedroom.
Rocco turned toward Gavin.
Gavin understood.
“I never saw him.”
“Sybil?”
“No.”
“House staff?”
“Maybe.”
Brenna looked at the wall.
“Stop.”
Everyone turned.
She pointed toward one photograph.
Her mother Elena.
Pregnant.
Standing beside Silvio.
Rocco stared.
The image was dated one month before Brenna’s birth.
“No.”
Brenna looked at him.
“You knew Mom met him?”
“No.”
The photograph showed no fear.
Elena appeared to be arguing.
Silvio’s hand raised.
Her expression furious.
Another image beneath it.
Domenico Moretti.
Silvio.
Same room.
Brothers.
Alive together after Silvio’s supposed death.
Rocco laughed softly.
Every dead man had apparently held meetings after his funeral.
The projector clicked by itself.
Everyone turned.
A reel began.
Silvio appeared on the wall.
Old.
Recent.
Sitting in a dark chair.
“Rocco.”
Rocco stared.
“If you’re seeing this, Tobin found the room.”
Brenna’s skin went cold.
Silvio continued.
“Or Sybil hurt him badly enough to tear down the wall.”
Sybil froze.
Rocco slowly looked at her.
Silvio knew.
Not predicted generally.
Knew the specific action.
Sybil whispered:
“I never spoke to him.”
Silvio’s recording continued:
“No, Sybil. You never spoke to me.”
She stopped.
“But you spoke to Aldo.”
Sybil began shaking.
Gavin turned.
“Mom?”
“I thought he was dead.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing about Tobin.”
Silvio laughed from the screen.
“Everyone says they told Aldo nothing.”
“He never asked for everything.”
“Only one resentment at a time.”
Rocco stared.
Silvio continued.
“I did not create Aldo’s talent.”
“I found it.”
“I did not create Sybil’s grief.”
“I gave it direction.”
“I did not create Gavin’s hunger to know his father.”
“I gave him Brenna.”
Gavin looked at Brenna.
Her face closed.
Silvio continued.
“I did not create Celeste’s loneliness.”
“I gave her Gavin.”
Celeste shut her eyes.
“And I did not create Rocco’s belief that every challenge was betrayal.”
“I gave him enemies.”
Rocco watched without movement.
Silvio smiled.
“You all hate me because I arranged what you were already willing to become.”
Brenna stepped toward the screen.
“No.”
Silvio could not hear.
Still she spoke.
“You arranged access.”
The recording continued.
“Brenna will say something moral now.”
Everyone froze.
Silvio smiled.
“She always did.”
Brenna’s face went pale.
He had studied her enough to predict her too.
“Do not feel special, child.”
“I know your father.”
“I knew your mother.”
“I know Gavin.”
“I know Sybil.”
“I know the shape people make when pain is offered a purpose.”
Rocco's hands tightened.
Silvio continued.
“If you want me, bring the three foxes to Moretti Point tomorrow at midnight.”
“No army.”
“No children.”
“Rocco.”
“Enzo.”
“Nolan.”
“Gavin.”
“And Brenna.”
Rocco immediately said:
“No.”
Brenna looked at him.
Silvio smiled from the screen as though hearing.
“Rocco just said no.”
Everyone stared.
“He will call it protection.”
Brenna slowly looked at her father.
Rocco’s jaw tightened.
Silvio continued.
“If he has learned anything, Brenna, he will ask what you want.”
The reel ended.
Silence.
Rocco looked at his daughter.
Every instinct said keep her away.
Every lesson said those instincts had been used against him.
“What do you want?”
Brenna answered immediately.
“To go.”
“No children.”
“I agree.”
“Gavin?”
She looked at her husband.
“He goes because Silvio asked for him, not because I forgive him.”
Gavin nodded.
“Understood.”
Enzo looked at Rocco.
“Point is an old family property.”
“I know.”
Cliffs.
Sea.
An abandoned stone mansion where Domenico and Silvio grew up.
Nolan whispered:
“It’s where this started.”
Rocco looked at him.
“What?”
Nolan had one more secret.
Of course.
“Silvio’s supposed death happened at Moretti Point.”
Rocco stared.
The accident.
Thirty years ago.
A car went over the cliff.
Burned wreckage below.
Again fire.
Again no body Rocco personally saw.
Enzo laughed.
“We really were stupid.”
Rocco looked at him.
“We were young.”
“No.”
Enzo shook his head.
“We were trained not to question funerals because questioning family stories was considered disloyal.”
Brenna looked toward the photographs of the children.
“That ends.”
Rocco nodded.
For once, everyone agreed.
Then Gavin noticed something under Tobin’s photograph.
A small red mark.
He pulled the photo free.
Behind it was another image.
Sybil.
Holding newborn Gavin.
Standing beside a younger Silvio.
Gavin stopped breathing.
On the back, one handwritten sentence:
MY FIRST GRANDSON.
Gavin stared.
May you like
No suspicion anymore.
Silvio Moretti was his grandfather.
