Chapter 4 - THE GHOST IN THE LETTERS
Norah’s breath hitched. She dropped the letters back into the iron box. Leo whimpered on the bed, burying his face into Salvatore’s leg. Salvatore let out a furious, broken roar at the sight of the gun, trying to throw himself forward, but his paralyzed side held him back. Dominic looked at the boy, then at his father, and slowly lowered the weapon. He didn't put it away. "Step away from the box, Norah." "You're terrifying him," Norah whispered, gesturing to the child. Dominic’s jaw tightened. "Frank!" The guard appeared instantly. "Take Leo to his room. Stay at the door." Frank gently scooped the boy up. Leo cried, reaching back for Salvatore, but Frank carried him away, shutting the heavy oak door behind them. The room felt like a powder keg. Dominic walked forward and picked up the stack of letters. He stared at the top envelope. His hand, usually so steady, trembled slightly. "My mother died when I was born," Dominic said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "That is the story I was told. That is the story the whole family was told." He looked at Salvatore. The old man was weeping silently, tears tracking down his paralyzed face. "But Rosa wasn't your grandmother, was she, Norah?" Dominic turned to her. "She raised me," Norah said defensively. "My parents died in a car crash when I was a baby." "She wasn't your grandmother," Dominic repeated softly. He tossed the printed dossier onto the bed. "I had my people dig deep. Rosa Marchetti didn't exist before 1990. No birth certificate. No tax records. She was a ghost created by the federal government." Norah stared at the dossier. Her reality was fracturing. "She took you in," Dominic continued. "Because she had abandoned her own children decades before." Dominic tore open the top letter. He read it in silence. As his eyes scanned the faded ink, the hardened mafia boss seemed to age ten years in ten seconds. He looked up at Norah. "Rosa was my mother," Dominic whispered. Norah stepped back, dizzy. "That... that's impossible." "She didn't die," Dominic said, his voice breaking. He looked at his father. "She ran. She made a deal with the Feds. She traded the family secrets for a new life, and left me and my brother behind with a monster." Salvatore shook his head violently, groaning in protest. He slapped his good hand against his chest, over his heart, then pointed at the letters. "She was a traitor," Dominic spat, the pain quickly hardening back into ice. "And she raised you. Which means you are nothing but a spy, sent here to finish whatever she started." "I didn't know!" Norah shouted, stepping toward him, completely forgetting the gun in his hand. "I grew up in poverty! She worked until her hands bled. If she was some mafia informant, where was the money, Dominic? Where was the protection?" That made Dominic pause. Norah looked at the old man in the wheelchair. Salvatore was desperately tapping a specific word on the open letter Dominic had dropped on the bed. Norah leaned in. Salvatore’s crooked finger was tapping repeatedly on a single sentence. “I took the blame so the real traitor wouldn't kill our boys. Trust the man with the silver cane.” Norah read it aloud. Dominic froze. The color drained completely from his face. "The silver cane..." Dominic whispered. He turned toward the window, looking out into the rain-swept courtyard. "My Uncle Vincenzo," Dominic said. "He arrives tonight." Just as the words left his mouth, the lights in the estate completely cut out, plunging them into total darkness. Downstairs, the sound of breaking glass echoed through the massive house.
