Chapter 4 - THE NIGHT THE MOUNTAIN BURNED
Samuel refused to speak until the bakery closed.
Hannah locked the front door.
Dante sat at the small kitchen table.
Outside, snow began falling.
Samuel opened an old wooden drawer.
Inside was a photograph.
A burned building.
A fire truck.
A little girl wrapped in a blanket.
Hannah.
At six years old.
She stared.
“Dad?”
Samuel's voice trembled.
“Twenty-two years ago, the old flour mill burned.”
Hannah nodded slowly.
“I remember the fire.”
“Not all of it.”
Dante looked at the photograph.
Samuel continued.
“The mill belonged to a company called Ashcroft Holdings.”
Dante frowned.
He knew the name.
It had once been connected to his uncle Aldo's businesses.
Samuel watched him.
“Do you know it?”
Dante hesitated.
“Yes.”
Hannah looked between them.
Samuel continued.
“The company wanted to buy the valley.”
He swallowed.
“Most people refused.”
“Why?” Hannah asked.
“Because their homes were here.”
Samuel looked down.
“Then the threats started.”
Dante felt cold.
“Who made them?”
Samuel hesitated.
“Men from Boston.”
Silence.
Hannah stared at Dante.
He looked away.
Samuel continued.
“The mill caught fire after midnight. Hannah was inside because she'd fallen asleep in my office.”
Hannah's face went pale.
“I remember smoke.”
Samuel nodded.
“I couldn't reach you.”
His voice broke.
“Then a man came running through the flames.”
Dante stopped breathing.
“Mick.”
Samuel nodded.
“He carried you out.”
Hannah covered her mouth.
Samuel continued.
“He burned his hands. Nearly lost his sight. But he saved you.”
Dante stared at the photograph.
Mick had never mentioned this.
Not once.
Samuel looked at him.
“He stayed for three days.”
“Why?”
“To make sure the fire wasn't blamed on us.”
Dante frowned.
Samuel's expression hardened.
“Because the company said I started it for insurance money.”
Hannah shook her head.
“Dad—”
“They tried to take the bakery.”
Dante felt his jaw tighten.
Samuel continued.
“Mick stopped them.”
“How?”
Samuel looked at Dante.
“He had documents.”
Silence.
“What documents?”
“Proof the fire was deliberate.”
Dante stared.
Samuel leaned forward.
“And proof the order came from Boston.”
The room went still.
Dante's mind raced.
Ashcroft Holdings.
Boston.
Aldo.
Mick's letter.
The debt.
Hannah whispered:
“Who ordered the fire?”
Samuel looked at Dante.
His eyes filled.
Then he said:
“The man who raised you.”
Dante felt the world tilt.
“My uncle?”
Samuel nodded.
“Aldo Moretti.”
May you like
For the first time in his life, Dante had no answer.
Only the terrible possibility that the man who had taught him everything about power had built that power on burning innocent people out of their homes.
