Chapter 7 - What Fear Bought
Matteo did not reach for a weapon.
That was the first thing Salvatore Rizzo noticed.
The old man descended the side staircase slowly, one hand resting on the rail. Cancer had hollowed his face, but his eyes remained sharp. He wore a camel coat over a gray suit and carried no visible gun.
Dominic whispered, “You said you were at the rectory.”
Rizzo smiled. “And you believed me. Again.”
Matteo looked around the sanctuary.
“Where are your men?”
“Close enough.”
“So are mine.”
Rizzo’s smile thinned.
Dominic looked at Matteo. “You brought people?”
“Of course.”
“You were told to come alone.”
Matteo gave his brother a cold glance. “I’m trying something new. It’s called not obeying liars.”
Even Dominic almost laughed.
Rizzo reached the center aisle.
His gaze dropped to the stuffed rabbit tucked beneath Matteo’s arm.
“What is that?”
“My daughter has better security instincts than most of my family.”
Rizzo’s expression changed at the word daughter.
Just slightly.
Matteo saw it.
“Don’t say her name,” he said.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.”
Rizzo sighed. “You always were emotional where Elena was concerned.”
Dominic stepped forward. “Careful.”
Rizzo glanced at him. “And you always wanted his approval. Look where that got you.”
The brothers said nothing.
Rizzo seemed disappointed.
He had expected them divided.
Matteo understood then that division had always been part of the system. Keep Dominic ashamed. Keep Matteo angry. Keep Isabella afraid of losing her sons. Keep rivals useful as imaginary monsters. Fear moved people more reliably than loyalty.
“How much?” Matteo asked.
Rizzo tilted his head.
“How much money did Elena discover?”
“Enough.”
“Give me a number.”
“Twenty-six million over nine years.”
Dominic swore.
Rizzo shrugged. “Your father would have called it an administrative expense.”
“My father trusted you.”
“Your father understood that empires leak.”
“And you decided to become the hole.”
Rizzo smiled faintly. “You sound like Elena.”
Matteo’s eyes hardened.
The old man continued, “She was bright. Too bright for a family that survives through selective blindness. She found two invoices that shared an address. Then another. She started asking who owned the vendors.”
“So you had her taken.”
“I had her delayed.”
Dominic lunged a step forward.
Matteo put one arm out, stopping him.
Rizzo watched with interest.
“She was supposed to lose a briefcase,” the old man said. “Nothing more. Cole was weak. Your wife was stronger than expected. The road was wet.”
Matteo’s voice became nearly inaudible. “Do not reduce her death to weather.”
Rizzo’s expression remained calm. “I’m explaining facts.”
“No. You’re explaining yourself.”
That landed.
Rizzo’s eyes cooled.
“You want remorse?”
“No.”
Matteo took Elena’s recorder from his coat pocket.
“I want you to keep talking.”
Rizzo stared at it.
Dominic did too.
Matteo pressed stop.
A tiny red light went dark.
The old man’s face changed for the first time.
“You recorded this.”
“Yes.”
Rizzo laughed softly. “For whom? The police? You think you can walk into a station with my confession without opening your own books?”
“No.”
“Then what good is it?”
Matteo looked at Dominic.
“Insurance.”
Dominic understood first.
Every underworld alliance Rizzo had built depended on discretion. A recording of him admitting he manufactured threats, stole from partners, and manipulated a war would make him toxic even if no prosecutor ever heard it.
Rizzo’s voice sharpened. “Give it to me.”
“No.”
The side door opened.
Two armed men entered.
Matteo’s guards appeared almost simultaneously in the choir loft.
Nobody fired.
For several seconds, the church held six men and enough history to ruin them all.
Then a phone rang.
Not Matteo’s.
Rizzo answered his.
His face changed as he listened.
Matteo knew before the old man spoke that something had happened.
“What?” Dominic demanded.
Rizzo looked at Matteo.
“I may have underestimated your mother.”
Matteo’s blood chilled.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“What did you do?”
Rizzo held up the phone. “A team went to the guesthouse to retrieve the original documents Elena copied. I assumed Miss Bennett carried them.”
Matteo moved toward him.
Rizzo’s men raised their weapons.
Matteo’s guards did the same.
“Easy,” Rizzo said.
“Where is my daughter?”
“I told them no one was to be harmed.”
Dominic laughed in disbelief. “That worked so well last time.”
Rizzo’s jaw tightened.
Matteo called Grace.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
The church seemed to shrink around him.
He called Thomas.
Thomas picked up on the second ring.
“Sir.”
“Guesthouse.”
“A vehicle breached the south service road. Mrs. Moretti triggered the old garden alarm before they reached the house. Our men intercepted them.”
Matteo closed his eyes for half a second.
“Mia?”
“Safe.”
“Grace?”
“Safe.”
“Mother?”
“Furious.”
Matteo breathed again.
Then Thomas added, “One intruder got away.”
Matteo looked at Rizzo.
The old man could read the answer in his face.
“You failed,” Matteo said.
Rizzo straightened. “Today.”
“No. Three years ago.”
Matteo slipped the recorder back into his coat.
“You thought my wife’s death would make me easier to control. It did. For a while. You fed me enemies, and I spent three years becoming exactly the man she was afraid grief would create.”
Rizzo said nothing.
“But my daughter ended that at a dinner table.”
Dominic looked at him.
Matteo continued, “A six-year-old girl told me who came when she cried. It wasn’t me. That was the first honest intelligence report I’d received in this family in years.”
Dominic looked down.
Rizzo’s expression hardened. “Sentiment will get you killed.”
“Maybe. But fear already killed Elena.”
Matteo turned to his guards. “We’re leaving.”
Dominic stared. “You’re just walking away?”
“For now.”
Rizzo smiled again, thinking he had won something.
Matteo stopped at the door.
“Salvatore.”
The old man looked at him.
“You have until sunset to leave Illinois.”
Rizzo laughed. “Or what?”
“Nothing dramatic.”
Matteo took out his phone.
“I already sent copies of your confession, Elena’s recording, the shell-company records, and your photograph to three attorneys, two investigative accountants, and one retired federal prosecutor Elena trusted.”
Rizzo’s smile vanished.
“If anything happens to my daughter, Grace, my mother, Dominic, or me, everything goes public.”
Dominic stared at his brother.
Matteo opened the church door.
Cold daylight spilled in.
“And if nothing happens,” he said, “it may go public anyway.”
Rizzo’s face finally showed fear.
Matteo left before he could enjoy it.
That mattered.
Outside, Dominic followed him down the steps.
“You would really expose everything?”
“Enough.”
“You could lose the businesses.”
“Yes.”
“The house.”
“Yes.”
“Our name.”
Matteo stopped beside the car.
“Our name is not worth more than Mia.”
Dominic looked as if someone had spoken in a language he once knew but had forgotten.
Then his phone buzzed.
He read the message and went pale.
“What?” Matteo asked.
Dominic handed him the screen.
A photograph showed Salvatore Rizzo entering a black SUV behind the church.
Beneath it was a message from one of Matteo’s watchers.
HE’S NOT LEAVING TOWN.
A second message appeared.
HE’S HEADING TOWARD ST. CATHERINE’S HOSPITAL.
May you like
Grace’s old hospital.
The place where Elena had died.
