Chapter 6 - UNCLE RAYMOND
Raymond Moretti arrived at the estate the next afternoon.
He was seventy-eight.
Gray-haired.
Still broad through the shoulders.
He had spent most of Dante’s childhood acting as the uncle who stepped in after Carlo died.
He taught Dante to drive.
Taught him to shoot.
Sat beside him at his wedding.
Held Lily the day she was born.
Dante placed Gabriel’s photograph on the table.
Raymond looked at it.
Then at Vanessa.
“You finally told him.”
“Not enough.”
Dante remained standing.
“Who ordered the roadblock?”
Raymond sighed.
“Your mother called me.”
“I know.”
“She said Carlo was leaving.”
“I know.”
“She told me to bring him home.”
Vanessa looked sharply toward him.
“I said talk to him.”
Raymond ignored her.
Dante’s eyes narrowed.
“What did you decide?”
Raymond poured himself water.
His hand remained steady.
“I decided Carlo could not be allowed to leave that night.”
Vanessa went pale.
“You told me you were only going to stop the car.”
“I lied.”
Dante stared.
Raymond had feared Carlo would reveal family secrets once outside the city.
Not crimes? Keep generic.
Old internal betrayals.
Old alliances.
Things that could fracture the family.
He ordered two cars placed across the road.
He told Thomas Cross to keep Carlo there until Raymond arrived.
Thomas refused.
The argument began.
Vanessa arrived.
Raymond’s men tried to move Carlo by force.
Thomas drew the weapon.
Everything broke.
“You created it,” Dante said.
Raymond nodded.
“Yes.”
Vanessa stared at him.
“You spent twenty-four years letting me believe my phone call killed him.”
Raymond looked toward her.
“Your phone call brought us there.”
“Your order trapped him.”
“Yes.”
Vanessa seemed to age in front of them.
Dante felt no relief.
Spreading blame did not erase hers.
It only made the family sickness larger.
Then Raymond surprised him.
“Carlo knew I might stop him.”
Dante frowned.
“How?”
“He told me the week before.”
Raymond had confronted Carlo after hearing rumors he wanted out.
Carlo did not hide it.
He said:
“If I stay only because the family can stop me leaving, then this isn’t a family.”
Dante looked down.
Raymond had laughed at him.
Now he looked ashamed.
“I thought he was dramatic.”
Then Raymond turned toward Elena.
“I didn’t know you were alive.”
Elena’s expression hardened.
“That seems to be a common sentence in this house.”
Dante almost smiled.
Not because it was funny.
Because Elena still sounded like herself.
Then Raymond asked where Gabriel was.
Dante said they did not know.
Raymond’s eyes changed.
“He’ll come here.”
“Why?”
“Because he doesn’t want revenge anymore.”
“What does he want?”
Raymond looked around the old Moretti dining room.
“Recognition.”
Gabriel had spent twelve years building relationships with younger guards, drivers, cousins, and employees who resented the old Moretti hierarchy.
Some followed him because he treated them well.
Some because he told them Dante was becoming weak.
Some because he promised a family where loyalty mattered more than blood.
Dante heard the irony immediately.
Gabriel had built his rebellion using the same hunger for belonging that the Morettis exploited.
Raymond leaned forward.
“He’ll come during Carlo’s memorial dinner tomorrow.”
Vanessa stared.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because every year we stand under Carlo’s portrait and repeat the lie Gabriel grew up hearing.”
Dante looked toward Elena.
The memorial had always been private.
This year would be different.
Then one bodyguard entered.
He handed Dante a small envelope Gabriel had left at the outer gate.
Inside was no letter.
Only Lily’s second shoe.
The one Gabriel had taken.
Dante stared at it.
Elena’s face went pale.
Then Lily ran into the room.
She saw the shoe.
“Mommy made that one.”
Dante looked at Elena.
“You made them?”
Elena nodded.
“In the hidden room.”
“With what?”
“Vanessa brought me leather and thread.”
Everyone looked toward Vanessa.
She lowered her eyes.
For months, while still helping hide Elena, Vanessa had also brought her food, books, clothing, and materials for Lily’s shoes.
Contradiction again.
Cruelty and care existing in the same person.
Then Lily pointed inside the shoe.
“There’s Mommy’s secret.”
Elena froze.
“What?”
Lily reached into the lining.
She pulled out a tiny folded piece of cloth.
Not paper.
Cloth.
On it, Elena had stitched three names.
GABRIEL.
RAYMOND.
MARCUS.
Dante stared.
“Who is Marcus?”
Raymond’s face changed.
Very slightly.
Dante saw it.
Raymond whispered:
“Your father’s youngest brother.”
Dante frowned.
“Marcus died before I was born.”
Raymond looked at him.
“No.”
May you like
Then he delivered the next truth.
“Marcus Moretti is still alive.”
