I set the photograph on the desk.
Anthony studied it.
Then breathed out.
“Where did you get this?”
“Maria.”
He looked toward her.
“Gabriel was my husband.”
“I know who he was.”
Her voice trembled.
“You knew him?”
Anthony nodded.
“Yes.”
“How?”
He looked at me.
Not at Maria.
That irritated me immediately.
“Tell her.”
Anthony rubbed both hands across his face.
“Gabriel wasn’t a driver when this photograph was taken.”
“What was he?” Maria asked.
Anthony leaned back.
“He was an accountant.”
She stared at him.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“He hated math.”
Anthony gave a weary smile.
“He always used to say that.”
Maria seemed unsettled by the familiarity.
“You knew him well?”
“Not well.”
“How well?”
“Well enough to know he wanted to leave.”
My father’s note returned to my mind.
G.T. wants out.
“Leave what?” I asked.
Anthony’s eyes shifted toward the photograph.
“Your father’s organization.”
Maria slowly sat down.
I felt no surprise.
Only unease.
“What did Gabriel do for him?”
“Records.”
“What records?”
“Everything.”
Anthony lowered his voice.
“Payments. Partnerships. Properties. Which businesses were legitimate and which weren’t. Who owed what. Who was getting paid.”
Maria covered her mouth.
I immediately understood what that meant.
Gabriel hadn’t merely known my father.
He had known far too much.
“Why was I at the pier?” I asked.
Anthony met my eyes.
“Because your father wanted you to replace Vincent.”
That sentence changed everything in the room.
“What?”
“He didn’t trust Russo.”
“But Vincent stayed with us another fourteen years.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Your father changed his decision.”
“Why?”
Anthony glanced at Maria.
Then back toward me.
“Because Gabriel convinced him otherwise.”
I stared at him.
“A man trying to leave persuaded my father to keep Vincent?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Gabriel believed Vincent could become d@ngerous if cornered.”
That sounded like Vincent.
“Gabriel told your father that removing Vincent suddenly might make him retaliate.”
“Against who?”
“You.”
I leaned back.
The answer landed strangely.
“Why me?”
“Because you were the easiest way to hurt your father.”
Maria whispered, “Gabriel protected you?”
Anthony nodded.
“In a way.”
I looked again at the photograph.
The young man standing beside me.
The man I couldn’t remember.
Sofia’s father.
A stranger who had apparently once argued for keeping an enemy close because forcing him out might place me at risk.
