Chapter 9 - MY SON CAME HOME
Bringing Mateo home should have felt like victory.
Instead, it taught me how much had been stolen.
He didn’t like large rooms.
The mansion terrified him.
He refused to enter the nursery because there were too many windows.
He hid food beneath his pillow.
He woke screaming if footsteps stopped outside his door.
And the first time Dominic entered wearing a shoulder holster, Mateo crawled under a table and wouldn’t come out for twenty minutes.
That night I ordered every visible weapon removed from the family wing.
Dominic stared at me.
“You know this is a Moretti house.”
“It’s my sons’ house first.”
He nodded.
No argument.
Mateo met Leo the afternoon after we returned.
I had worried the sight of another baby might confuse him.
Instead, something extraordinary happened.
Elena sat with Leo on the rug.
Mateo stood six feet away.
Leo looked up.
Smiled.
Then crawled toward him.
Mateo froze.
Leo reached his brother’s legs and grabbed his pajama pants.
Mateo looked at me.
“Baby?”
I swallowed.
“Your brother.”
His eyes widened.
“My?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
“Leo.”
Mateo crouched.
Leo immediately slapped both hands against his face.
Mateo laughed.
The sound stopped every adult in the room.
It was the first time I had heard my older son laugh.
Not on a video.
Not in memory.
Now.
I turned away because I refused to let him see me cry every ten minutes.
Elena noticed anyway.
She said nothing.
By evening, Mateo had decided Leo belonged to him.
He followed the baby everywhere.
When Leo dropped a toy, Mateo returned it.
When Leo cried, Mateo patted his head.
When I tried to carry Leo upstairs, Mateo asked, “He comes too?”
“He comes too.”
“You come?”
I looked at him.
“If you want me.”
He thought about it.
Then nodded.
That tiny permission meant more than loyalty from a thousand armed men.
The doctors came the next morning.
Not Bellini’s doctors.
Independent pediatric specialists.
Trauma experts.
People Alessia had vetted.
Mateo was healthy.
Underweight.
Mildly delayed in speech.
Signs of chronic stress.
No evidence of major physical abuse.
That should have relieved me.
It didn’t.
A child didn’t need bruises to be harmed.
Being told his parents were dead was enough.
Being moved from house to house was enough.
Being trained to fear the sound of his own father’s name was enough.
The psychologist explained it carefully.
“He may test you.”
“How?”
“He may reject you after seeking comfort. He may become angry when you leave a room. He may ask the same questions repeatedly.”
“I’ll answer them.”
“For months.”
“I’ll answer them.”
“For years.”
“I said I’ll answer them.”
She studied me.
“You cannot solve trauma with force.”
I almost smiled.
“Everyone seems determined to teach me that lesson.”
“You need to learn it.”
She wasn’t afraid of me.
I liked her instantly.
That afternoon, Alessia came to the mansion.
Dominic searched her.
She complained the entire time.
“If you touch my bra strap again, I’m breaking your hand.”
Dominic deadpanned, “Family resemblance confirmed.”
I almost laughed.
Almost.
Alessia met Mateo in the garden.
He recognized her.
“Aunt Less.”
My chest tightened.
“You know her?”
Mateo nodded.
“She gives planes.”
The wooden airplane.
Alessia crouched.
“Hey, bug.”
Mateo hugged her.
Jealousy stabbed me.
Ugly.
Instant.
A stranger had years of affection from my son.
Then I reminded myself.
She had kept him alive.
I owed her everything.
After Mateo ran toward Elena and Leo, I looked at my sister.
“Thank you.”
Alessia blinked.
“For what?”
“Saving him.”
She looked uncomfortable.
“We’re Morettis. Gratitude causes rashes.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Then her expression darkened.
“We still have a problem.”
“Salvatore.”
“And Bellini’s network.”
“Federal agents have Bellini.”
“He’s talking.”
“How do you know?”
“I have sources.”
“Of course you do.”
She handed me a file.
“Bellini claims Salvatore ordered Valentina killed.”
“You said Bellini ordered it.”
“He did. But possibly under pressure.”
“From Salvatore?”
“Yes.”
I opened the file.
Phone records.
Payments.
One call between Salvatore and Bellini twelve minutes before Valentina’s crash.
Another afterward.
My stomach tightened.
“Why did Salvatore tell me my father ordered it?”
“To redirect you toward dead people.”
Cowardly.
Effective.
“What does he want now?”
“Control of the Moretti companies.”
“He can have them.”
Alessia stared.
“What?”
“I’m done.”
“You don’t just resign from your world.”
“I built half of it.”
“And the other half can bury you.”
“Then I’ll give prosecutors everything.”
She studied me.
“You mean that.”
“Yes.”
“Your father would crawl out of his grave.”
“Good.”
For the first time, Alessia smiled like my sister.
“I may like you.”
“Don’t make it weird.”
The next problem arrived at six.
Dominic entered my office.
No gun visible.
Mateo’s rule.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Salvatore called.”
I looked up.
“From where?”
“Blocked satellite number.”
“What did he want?”
“To speak with you.”
My phone rang.
I answered.
“Salvatore.”
“You found the boy.”
Not a question.
“Yes.”
A pause.
“I’m glad.”
I laughed.
“Are you?”
“I never wanted Mateo dead.”
“You benefited from his disappearance.”
“I benefited from many mistakes.”
“Valentina’s murder?”
Silence.
That was answer enough.
“You gave Bellini the order.”
“No.”
“Then why call him before the crash?”
Salvatore exhaled.
“Because I was trying to stop it.”
“Liar.”
“Luca, your mother wanted Valentina frightened. Bellini went further.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
His voice sounded tired.
“I expect you to believe whatever lets you sleep.”
“What do you want?”
“Meet me.”
“No.”
“You should.”
“I have my sons.”
“For now.”
The threat changed everything.
I stood.
“If you come near them—”
“Not me.”
“What does that mean?”
“Bellini’s clients are terrified.”
My anger cooled into something more dangerous.
“They know his files may expose them.”
“Yes.”
“And they think I have copies.”
“You do.”
“Some.”
“They will come for you.”
“Let them.”
Salvatore sighed.
“You still think enemies attack the king.”
My eyes moved toward the window.
Mateo was outside with Elena.
Leo sat in the grass.
My sons.
“They attack heirs,” Salvatore said.
I hung up.
The security alert sounded thirty seconds later.
Dominic’s phone buzzed.
His face changed.
“What?”
“Vehicle at the front gate.”
“Who?”
He looked at me.
“Federal agents.”
I almost relaxed.
Then he continued.
“And local police.”
“Why?”
“Search warrant.”
“For what?”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“Murder.”
I stood slowly.
“Whose?”
The answer came from the hallway.
A federal agent entered holding his badge.
“Luca Moretti?”
“Yes.”
“You are being detained in connection with the murder of Peter Hale.”
Lorenzo’s investigator.
The man who had found Mateo.
I stared at the agent.
“That’s convenient.”
He stepped forward with handcuffs.
Through the window, I saw Mateo watching.
My son’s face changed when he saw the police.
Fear.
“No.”
I moved toward the glass.
The agents tensed.
Dominic whispered, “Luca.”
Mateo started running toward the house.
Toward me.
I stopped.
I could fight.
I could run.
I could turn the mansion into a battlefield.
The old Luca would have.
Instead, I placed my hands behind my back.
The handcuffs closed.
Mateo reached the doorway.
“Daddy!”
My chest shattered.
“I’m okay.”
“No go!”
He tried to reach me.
Elena caught him.
I looked directly into his terrified eyes.
“Mateo.”
He cried harder.
“Daddy stays!”
I crouched as far as the cuffs allowed.
“Remember what Mama told you?”
He sobbed.
“Daddy comes.”
“Yes.”
I forced a smile.
“So even if I leave—”
He stared.
“I come back.”
Mateo wiped his face.
“Promise?”
I looked at my son.
Then at Leo in Elena’s arms.
May you like
Then at the agents waiting to take me away.
“Promise.”
