Chapter 7 - THE LAST SECRET
My mother had died when I was fourteen.
At least, that was the story.
Grace's mother was alive.
My father was alive.
My brother was alive.
Suddenly, every death I remembered felt suspicious.
We found the truth in an old cemetery.
My mother's grave had no body.
Only an empty coffin.
Grace stood beside me.
“Dominic.”
I stared at the headstone.
“I spent my entire life visiting this place.”
“I know.”
“She wasn't here.”
“No.”
“Then where?”
A federal agent named Sarah Collins approached.
“We found something.”
She handed me a file.
Inside was a photograph.
My mother.
Alive.
Taken two years ago.
Standing beside Vanessa.
My stomach dropped.
“She worked with Vanessa?”
“No.”
Sarah pointed at another photograph.
My mother was meeting a federal prosecutor.
“Your mother was an informant.”
I looked at Grace.
“Against my father?”
“Yes.”
“And Vanessa?”
“Against everyone.”
The Black Network had been larger than we imagined.
My mother had spent decades trying to dismantle it.
Vanessa had infiltrated it.
My father had built it.
And Dominic Moretti—the man everyone feared—had unknowingly inherited the final piece.
Me.
Not money.
Not businesses.
Information.
My mother's final evidence had been hidden inside the black cross.
The cross wasn't merely a key.
It was a storage device.
We opened it.
Thousands of names appeared.
Judges.
Senators.
Police chiefs.
Bankers.
And at the top:
VANESSA BELLINI.
But beneath her name was another.
CARLO BELLINI.
Her father.
Then another.
VINCENT BELLINI.
Her grandfather.
The Bellini family had been controlling the network for generations.
Vanessa hadn't created the conspiracy.
She had inherited it.
And she intended to finish what her family started.
Then the phone rang.
Grace answered.
A woman's voice whispered:
“Don't trust Dominic.”
Grace froze.
“Who is this?”
“Your mother.”
The line went dead.
Grace stared at me.
“My mother is alive.”
We tracked the call.
A motel outside Albany.
We arrived within two hours.
Grace found her mother sitting beside a window.
She was older.
Thin.
Tired.
But alive.
Mother and daughter embraced.
I stayed outside.
Then Grace called me in.
Her mother looked at me.
“You look like your father.”
“I've heard that before.”
She smiled sadly.
“Your mother loved you.”
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did she abandon me?”
“She didn't.”
She handed me a letter.
My mother's handwriting.
I opened it.
Dominic,
If you are reading this, I failed to protect you the way I promised.
I need you to know one thing.
I never wanted you to become your father.
But I always believed you could become better than him.
The final evidence is yours.
Not because you are his son.
Because you are the one person who can choose what happens next.
I cried silently.
For the first time in years.
Grace stood beside me.
Her hand found mine.
“You don't have to do this alone.”
I looked at her.
“I don't know how to have a normal life.”
“Neither do I.”
She smiled.
“Maybe we can learn.”
I leaned toward her.
Then the motel windows exploded.
Gunfire.
We dropped.
Grace screamed.
Her mother was hit.
“Mom!”
I pulled her behind the bed.
Federal agents returned fire.
Outside, cars sped away.
One remained.
A black sedan.
Vanessa's.
May you like
We had found her.
But she had found us first.
