Chapter 6 - WHAT MATTEO REMEMBEREDMatteo hit Salvatore before the knife reached Serafina.
Both men crashed into a stack of wooden crates.
The knife slid across the barn floor.
Salvatore punched Matteo in the ribs.
Matteo grunted.
Seven years of captivity had weakened him.
But anger gave him strength.
He drove Salvatore into the wall.
“You took seven years.”
Salvatore slammed his forehead into Matteo’s face.
Blood poured from Matteo’s nose.
“I should have taken your life.”
Serafina reached them.
She grabbed Salvatore’s jacket and pulled him backward.
He spun.
His elbow caught her shoulder.
She staggered.
Salvatore lunged for the knife.
Elena kicked it away.
Domenico tackled him.
Within seconds, Salvatore was on the floor with three weapons aimed at him.
“Move,” Domenico said, “and your evening gets shorter.”
Across the barn, Antonio clutched his wounded shoulder.
Nolan still held the gun.
Victor approached his son slowly.
“Nolan.”
Nolan looked at him.
“I didn’t do it for you.”
“I know.”
“You always looked at me like I was a disappointment.”
Victor swallowed.
“Often you were.”
Nolan laughed bitterly.
“Thanks.”
“But that was my failure too.”
Nolan stared.
Victor continued.
“I taught you that being feared meant being important. Then I acted surprised when you became cruel.”
Nolan’s eyes flickered.
“Don’t make this sentimental.”
“I’m not. You stole millions, helped organize an attack, and hurt children. You’re going to answer for all of it.”
Nolan’s jaw clenched.
“But you saved Mia.”
Victor looked at his son.
“And that matters.”
Nolan slowly lowered the gun.
Serafina was already beside Mia.
She wrapped both children in her arms.
Leo buried his face against her neck.
Mia began crying.
Serafina held them so tightly they protested.
“Mom, I can’t breathe.”
Serafina laughed through tears.
“Good complaint.”
Then she felt someone standing behind her.
Matteo.
She turned.
They stared at each other.
There was no dramatic rush into each other’s arms.
Too much had happened.
Too many years stood between them.
Matteo looked at Mia.
His daughter had been one when he disappeared.
She did not remember him.
He looked at Leo.
A son he had never met.
His face broke.
“These are…”
“Yes.”
Mia looked at Serafina.
“Mom?”
Serafina wiped tears from her face.
“This is Matteo.”
She couldn’t say your father yet.
It felt too enormous.
Matteo crouched several feet away.
He didn’t touch them.
“I’ve waited a very long time to meet you.”
Leo stared.
“Are you my dad?”
Matteo’s mouth trembled.
“Yes.”
Leo looked at his mother.
“Really?”
Serafina nodded.
Leo frowned as children do when adults present impossible facts.
“I thought he died.”
“So did I.”
Leo looked back at Matteo.
“Did you?”
A laugh escaped Matteo.
“No.”
“Okay.”
Then Leo stepped forward and hugged him.
Matteo collapsed onto his knees.
He wrapped his arms around the son he had never held.
Serafina covered her mouth.
Mia remained beside her.
She was older.
More cautious.
“Why didn’t he come home?”
Matteo heard.
He released Leo and looked at Mia.
“Because bad people wouldn’t let me.”
“You could have called.”
“I tried.”
“Mom cried.”
The words cut through everyone.
Matteo closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“You don’t.”
Serafina crouched beside her.
“Mia—”
“No.”
Her daughter looked angry now.
“You said Dad was brave.”
“He is.”
“Then why wasn’t he here?”
Matteo nodded slowly.
“That’s fair.”
Mia stared at him.
“I was scared too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t know me.”
“No.”
That honesty surprised her.
Matteo continued.
“But I know your birthday is March twelfth.”
Mia blinked.
“I know you broke your wrist when you were four because you climbed onto the kitchen counter looking for chocolate.”
Serafina stared.
“I know you hate peas.”
Mia looked at her mother.
“How?”
Serafina didn’t know.
Matteo smiled sadly.
“Your mother used to receive flowers every March twelfth.”
Serafina remembered.
Anonymous white lilies.
Every year.
She had assumed they came from an old family friend.
“You sent them.”
Matteo nodded.
“I had one guard who felt sorry for me. He delivered messages sometimes. Tiny ones.”
Serafina’s eyes filled.
“He was killed two years ago.”
Salvatore laughed from the floor.
“Because he became careless.”
Domenico kicked him.
“Quiet.”
Serafina stood.
She wanted to deal with Salvatore immediately.
Matteo touched her arm.
“Not here.”
She looked at him.
“The kids.”
He was right.
She turned to Elena.
“Can your people take Mia and Leo back to Bellavita?”
Elena looked offended.
“After tonight, you still need to ask?”
Serafina nodded gratefully.
Mia grabbed her sleeve.
“You’re coming too.”
“I will.”
“Now.”
Serafina looked at Salvatore.
Then at her daughter.
The old Serafina might have said business came first for five more minutes.
She realized how many times that choice had shaped her life.
“Now,” she agreed.
Domenico looked surprised.
Serafina pointed at Salvatore and Antonio.
“Secure them. No one touches either until I return.”
“And Nolan?”
She looked at him.
Nolan stood beside Victor.
“Bring him.”
The convoy returned to Bellavita before dawn.
The estate looked like a war zone.
Broken windows.
Emergency vehicles.
Security teams.
Blood on the stone path.
Mia and Leo were taken upstairs.
Matteo stopped in the foyer.
He looked around.
“Same painting.”
Serafina followed his gaze.
An old coastal landscape hung above the fireplace.
“You hated that painting.”
“I still do.”
Against her will, she smiled.
For one second, the past returned.
Matteo saw it.
Then disappeared again.
“Serafina…”
She faced him.
Seven years of questions crowded behind her teeth.
Why hadn’t he found another way?
Why hadn’t he trusted her?
How much had he suffered?
Did he still love her?
Was he the same man?
Was she the same woman?
Instead she asked the simplest question.
“Are you hungry?”
Matteo laughed.
A real laugh.
The sound nearly destroyed her.
“Very.”
Twenty minutes later, the head cook—who had cried upon seeing Matteo alive—prepared eggs, bread, and coffee.
They sat alone in the kitchen.
Matteo ate slowly.
Serafina watched him.
“You’re staring.”
“You were dead this morning.”
“Fair.”
“How long were you at the farm?”
“Four months. Before that, warehouses. Apartments. Basements.”
“Did they torture you?”
Matteo stopped eating.
Serafina regretted asking.
“Sometimes.”
She looked down.
“Sera.”
Her eyes filled.
“I searched.”
“I know.”
“I searched everywhere.”
“I know.”
“I eventually stopped.”
“You had children to raise.”
“I should have—”
“No.”
His voice sharpened.
“Do not do that.”
She looked up.
“Do not carry their crime as your failure.”
Silence.
Matteo reached across the table.
He stopped before touching her hand.
Permission.
Serafina turned her palm upward.
Their fingers met.
Both inhaled.
Matteo whispered, “I survived because I believed this might happen.”
She squeezed his hand.
Then her phone rang.
Domenico.
Serafina answered.
“What?”
“We have a problem.”
She straightened.
“What kind?”
“Salvatore’s gone.”
Serafina stood.
“What?”
“The transport vehicle was attacked.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Antonio?”
“Still secured.”
“And Salvatore?”
“Missing. Two guards dead.”
Matteo pushed away from the table.
Domenico continued.
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“We searched Antonio’s belongings.”
Serafina waited.
“We found a list.”
“What list?”
“Names. Judges. police commanders. business owners.”
“That’s not surprising.”
“No.”
Domenico’s voice lowered.
“Your capos.”
Serafina went still.
“How many?”
“Seven.”
Out of twelve.
Matteo stared at her.
Domenico continued.
“Seven of your capos have been secretly receiving money from Antonio for years.”
The floor seemed to shift.
Serafina looked through the kitchen doorway.
Men moved through the halls repairing windows and cleaning blood.
People she had trusted.
People who had bowed behind her.
Domenico whispered, “Boss…”
May you like
“Yes?”
“We don’t know who’s still loyal.”
