Chapter 10 - The Boy Who Knew Too Much|
The children's home had closed six years earlier.
Its brick building stood between a shuttered bakery and an auto repair shop, its windows covered with plywood. A rusted sign still hung above the entrance, and weeds pushed through cracks in the pavement.
Tomasso parked two streets away.
Caterina stepped out before he could open her door.
"I spent half my childhood believing that place was a hospital," she said. "My mother brought me here twice. She told me she was visiting sick children."
"Did you meet Mateo?"
"Once. He gave me a paper crane."
She glanced at him.
"I kept it for years."
Tomasso looked at the building.
"Then let's see whether he left you anything else."
They found the side entrance unlocked.
Inside, dust covered the reception desk. Children's drawings remained pinned to a bulletin board, their colors faded by sunlight. A hallway led toward a common room with small tables and broken chairs.
Caterina walked slowly.
Every room seemed to hold an echo of a life she had never understood.
In the old director's office, Tomasso found a metal cabinet with a broken lock. Most of the files had been removed, but one folder remained beneath a stack of invoices.
Its label read: M.V. — PRIVATE PLACEMENT.
Inside was a photograph of Mateo at sixteen, standing beside an older woman.
The woman was Elena Moretti.
Caterina's mother.
On the back, someone had written a date and a location: St. Agnes Hospital, Chicago.
Tomasso called Marco and ordered him to search the hospital archives.
A noise sounded in the hallway.
Caterina turned.
A man stood in the doorway wearing a gray hoodie and carrying a small backpack. He was in his late twenties, lean, with dark hair and a faint scar above his left eyebrow.
His gaze moved from Caterina to Tomasso.
"You're not supposed to be here."
Caterina took one step forward.
"Mateo?"
The man's expression changed.
"Who told you that name?"
"Your photograph was in the files."
He reached inside his jacket.
Tomasso immediately raised his gun.
"Slowly."
Mateo pulled out a folded paper instead of a weapon.
"I knew this day would come," he said. "I just hoped it wouldn't be you."
Caterina's voice trembled.
"Do you know who your parents were?"
Mateo laughed without humor.
"I know who they told me to be."
He placed the paper on the desk.
It was a copy of an adoption certificate. The original names had been blacked out, but a faint impression remained beneath the ink.
Michael Matteo Moretti.
Caterina stared at it.
"My cousin."
Mateo nodded.
"Your mother saved me. She told everyone I was dead because Lorenzo wanted the family inheritance to pass through him. My father had left instructions that his firstborn child would inherit the controlling shares of the Moretti shipping company."
Tomasso frowned.
"Those shares were transferred to Lorenzo."
"Because he convinced the courts there was no surviving heir."
Caterina looked at Mateo.
"Why didn't you come back?"
"Because the first time I tried, someone shot the man who helped me. The second time, they burned my apartment. After that, I stopped trying to be found."
He glanced at Tomasso's gun.
"Looks like you brought the war with you."
Tomasso lowered the weapon slightly.
"If Lorenzo discovers you're alive, he'll come for you."
"He's already looking."
Mateo opened his backpack and removed a small recorder.
"My mother left this with the home's director. She said I should give it to Caterina if anyone from the Moretti family came asking questions."
He pressed play.
A woman's voice filled the dusty office.
Elena Moretti sounded exhausted, but unmistakably determined.
"If you're hearing this, then Lorenzo has found the account. Caterina, forgive me. I couldn't save your father. I couldn't save myself. But I saved the child."
A pause.
Then her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Whatever you do, don't trust the man who carries the Barbieri ring."
Tomasso looked down at his hand.
May you like
The ring bore his family's crest.
And from the hallway came the sound of a weapon being cocked.
