Chapter 3 - THE DEBT WRITTEN IN BLOOD
Vincent returned to the Moretti mansion shortly after midnight.
His mother, Margaret Moretti, was waiting in the drawing room.
She sat beside the fireplace wearing a black silk robe.
“Where's Claire?” she asked.
Vincent didn't answer.
He placed Thomas Bennett's letter on the coffee table.
Margaret glanced at it.
Then went still.
“Where did you get that?”
Vincent watched her carefully.
“Claire.”
His mother's expression changed.
“Thomas gave her that?”
“Yes.”
Margaret reached for the envelope.
Vincent stopped her.
“Who was Daniel Bennett?”
Her hand froze.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she looked toward the fireplace.
“Vincent, some things are better left buried.”
His jaw tightened.
“Who was he?”
Margaret swallowed.
“Thomas's younger brother.”
Vincent stared.
“Claire had an uncle?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to him?”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“He died.”
Vincent leaned forward.
“How?”
Silence.
Then his mother whispered:
“The night Thomas saved you.”
Vincent felt his stomach drop.
He remembered that night.
The gunfire.
The warehouse.
The smell of gasoline.
Thomas Bennett dragging him behind a concrete pillar while bullets shattered the windows.
He remembered a young man lying near the loading dock.
Blood spreading across his shirt.
He had been told the man was a warehouse worker caught in the crossfire.
Now Vincent understood.
That man had been Claire's uncle.
He looked at Margaret.
“Did Father order the attack?”
She began crying.
Vincent's voice hardened.
“Mother.”
Margaret nodded.
“Yes.”
The room seemed to contract around him.
“Why?”
She wiped her cheeks.
“Thomas discovered something Salvatore couldn't afford to have exposed.”
Vincent stared.
“What?”
May you like
Margaret whispered:
“He was stealing from the Bennett family.”
