Chapter 7 - THE MAN INSIDE THE WALLS
Matteo wanted us moved immediately.
I agreed.
That frightened him more than if I had argued.
By afternoon, Emma and Oliver were transferred to a federal-protected residence connected to the investigation into Julian.
Not a Moretti property.
Not a family employee.
No predictable routine.
Matteo hated losing control.
I considered it therapeutic.
“You’re enjoying this,” he muttered from his hospital bed.
“A little.”
“You’ve become cruel.”
“I learned from professionals.”
He almost smiled.
Then his expression changed.
“I should be with you.”
“You have a drain coming out of your side.”
“Minor inconvenience.”
“You fainted twelve hours ago.”
“A temporary misunderstanding between me and gravity.”
I stared.
“You are exhausting.”
“You used to find me charming.”
“I was twenty-six.”
He smiled.
There he was.
The man beneath the name.
Then his phone rang.
Enzo.
Matteo answered.
His smile vanished.
“When?”
Pause.
“Who?”
His eyes moved to me.
I knew immediately.
“What?”
He ended the call.
“Teresa’s missing.”
My stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
“She left the estate two hours ago.”
“Voluntarily?”
“That’s unclear.”
“Julian?”
“We don’t know.”
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Teresa sitting in a chair.
Alive.
Terrified.
Behind her, gray concrete.
Text beneath it:
BRING SOPHIA TO ST. MICHAEL’S AT 11.
COME ALONE OR YOUR AUNT DIES.
Matteo held out his hand.
I gave him the phone.
His face turned cold enough to freeze the room.
“No.”
“It’s about me.”
“No.”
“He wants me.”
“He wants leverage.”
“Teresa will die.”
“I will handle it.”
“You’re in a hospital gown.”
His eyes flashed.
“I said I’ll handle it.”
“And I said no.”
He gripped the phone.
“You do not walk into Julian’s hands.”
“I’m not planning to.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he still thinks the version of me he created six years ago exists.”
Matteo stared.
“The frightened nurse?”
“Yes.”
I picked up my coat.
“She doesn’t.”
St. Michael’s had been abandoned for twelve years.
Once a Catholic elementary school in the Bronx, it now sat behind rusted fencing awaiting redevelopment.
At 10:53 p.m., I walked toward the side entrance alone.
Visibly.
What Julian could not see were federal tactical officers positioned in three surrounding buildings.
Enzo had a team underground.
Matteo had escaped the hospital.
I discovered that only after seeing him inside the command van.
“You are clinically insane.”
“I signed myself out.”
“You were shot yesterday.”
“You’re walking into a kidnapping.”
“Fair.”
I hated him.
I loved that he was there.
That realization frightened me more than Julian.
I entered the school.
The hallway smelled of dust and mold.
Children’s murals peeled from the walls.
My footsteps echoed.
“Julian?”
A light switched on inside an old classroom.
He stood beside Teresa.
Julian Moretti looked enough like Matteo that strangers sometimes confused them from behind.
Same dark hair.
Same shoulders.
Different eyes.
Matteo’s eyes became gentle around children.
Julian’s remained calculating even when he smiled.
“Sophia.”
“You look disappointed.”
“I expected Matteo.”
“He’s busy.”
Julian laughed.
“He came.”
I said nothing.
“He always comes for you.”
“You sound jealous.”
His smile vanished.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The reason everything went wrong.”
I stepped closer.
“Because Matteo loved someone?”
“Because Matteo was weak.”
“Love isn’t weakness.”
“In our family, it is.”
I looked at Teresa.
Her hands were bound.
She had blood at one temple.
“You hurt your own aunt.”
“She chose him.”
“Everyone chooses him, right?”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
There.
The wound.
Not money.
Not succession.
Being second.
I kept him talking.
“You stole forty-two million dollars because Daddy loved Matteo more?”
His face hardened.
“Careful.”
“You killed Celeste.”
“She asked questions.”
“You tried to kill Oliver.”
“Necessary.”
The word nearly broke my composure.
“You ordered Rachel killed.”
“She helped you.”
My heart stopped.
I had suspected.
Hearing it was different.
Julian smiled.
“She told you about the apartment, didn’t she?”
“You murdered my best friend.”
“She made herself inconvenient.”
Rage sharpened everything.
I wanted to cross the room and tear him apart.
Instead, I breathed.
Keep him talking.
“Why not kill me six years ago?”
“Because disappearing you was more useful.”
He smiled.
“Matteo spent years chasing shadows. He neglected accounts. Missed meetings. Lost allies.”
“You stole while he searched.”
“Yes.”
“And Emma?”
“She became a problem later.”
My hands curled.
“You knew where we were.”
“Eventually.”
“Why wait?”
“Because as long as Matteo believed you dead, your daughter was irrelevant.”
“And then?”
“Carlo started interfering.”
Julian’s face tightened.
“He kept moving surveillance away from your neighborhood. Paid people not to talk.”
Carlo had spent years protecting us from the shadows.
“Then you found us.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Hospital insurance database.”
I felt sick.
A system built to care for people had betrayed us.
“Oliver was bait.”
“Perfect bait.”
“You planned to kill him too.”
Julian shrugged.
“He would have died believing his father came for him.”
My rage almost destroyed the plan.
Teresa looked at me.
“Sophia.”
A warning.
Julian lifted his gun.
“Enough talking.”
He pointed it at me.
“Matteo will come through that door eventually.”
“No.”
Julian smiled.
“He can’t help himself.”
I looked behind him.
“No.”
His smile faded.
“You still don’t understand your brother.”
A tiny red laser appeared on his chest.
Then another.
Then another.
Julian froze.
I continued.
“He finally learned not to come alone.”
Federal agents entered from three sides.
“Drop the weapon!”
Julian grabbed Teresa.
Gunfire did not erupt.
Everyone held.
He pressed the pistol against her neck.
“I’ll kill her.”
Teresa’s voice shook.
“Julian, don’t.”
He backed toward a rear door.
Then the ceiling lights died.
Darkness.
Someone shouted.
A shot fired.
I dropped.
More shots.
Glass shattered.
When emergency lights returned, Teresa was on the floor.
Alive.
Julian was gone.
A rear service door hung open.
Matteo appeared beside me, pale with pain and fury.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Teresa?”
“Alive.”
Enzo ran in from the corridor.
“We lost Julian.”
Matteo swore.
Then my phone rang.
I looked down.
The protected residence.
My heart stopped.
I answered.
No one spoke.
Then Oliver’s small voice came through.
“Sophia?”
“Oliver?”
He was crying.
“Where’s Emma?”
Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice.
“What do you mean?”
“The man came.”
Matteo grabbed my arm.
I put the phone on speaker.
“What man, sweetheart?”
Oliver sobbed.
“Uncle Julian.”
Matteo went white.
“He took Emma.”
The world stopped.
And six years of running suddenly became one impossible truth.
May you like
The monster I had spent my life escaping had finally taken my daughter.
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