Chapter 6 - The Fortress in the Clouds
The private jet flew south through the storm, cutting through the turbulent skies four miles above the Atlantic coast.
Inside the luxurious leather interior of the Gulfstream, the silence was thick, heavy, and charged with an explosive tension.
Elena sat in a deep swivel armchair, wrapped in a black cashmere blanket that Matteo’s stewards had provided. A warm cup of ginger tea sat on the mahogany table beside her, untouched.
Across the aisle, Matteo sat in his shirtsleeves, his black tie loosened, his suit jacket draped over the back of his chair.
A private medic was kneeling beside him, cleaning a jagged graze wound along his left forearm where a bullet had cut through his coat during the alley escape.
Matteo didn't flinch as the medic applied antiseptic. His eyes never left Elena’s face.
“You stole it eight months ago,” Matteo said quiet, breaking the long silence.
Elena looked over at him, her dark eyes guarded. “What?”
“The ledger,” Matteo said, leaning back as the medic wrapped his arm in clean white gauze. “You didn't take it three days ago when you walked out in your white dress. You took it eight months ago, when you stopped wearing your ring.”
Elena let out a slow, tired breath. “Yes.”
“How did you get the combination?”
“Your uncle Carmine was eighty-two years old, Matteo,” Elena revealed softly. “He was dying of lung cancer. Every Sunday when you sent me to visit him at the estate in Long Island, he sat in his wheelchair and talked about the past. He thought I was just a quiet girl who didn't understand the business.”
She looked out the small airplane window at the ocean of dark clouds below. “He showed me the safe behind the mirror. He gave me the combination because he was proud of what he had built, and he wanted someone to know that the Vale family—my family—had been cheated out of their share thirty years ago.”
Matteo watched her, his expression unreadable. “Carmine was a fool.”
“Carmine was old,” Elena countered sharp. “And he saw what you refused to see. He saw that I was sitting in your house like a prisoner, waiting for a husband who only remembered I existed when he needed a hostess for a dinner party.”
Matteo dismissed the medic with a silent nod. The man packed his kit and retreated to the rear cabin, closing the privacy door behind him.
Matteo stood up, walking across the aisle, and sat in the armchair directly opposite her. The space between them was so small their knees almost touched.
“Where were you going to go, Elena?” Matteo asked softly. “After Boston. Once the baby came.”
“Switzerland,” Elena admitted without hesitation. “I have a contact in Zurich who restores old manuscripts for private galleries. I was going to change my name, raise my child, and use the ledger to ensure your family never came looking for us.”
Matteo reached into his suit pocket, pulled out the thick red leather book, and set it on the table between them.
The Archivio Nero.
The book that could destroy his family, dismantle his empire, and put thirty men in federal prison for the rest of their lives.
“Take it,” Matteo said quiet.
Elena blinked, staring at him in utter disbelief. “What?”
“Take it,” Matteo repeated, pushing the red notebook closer to her hand. “It’s your insurance policy, isn't it? Take it to Zurich. Give it to the Swiss authorities. Give it to the FBI. Do whatever you need to do to feel safe.”
Elena stared at the book, then looked up into his dark hazel eyes. “Why are you doing this, Matteo?”
May you like
Matteo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his scarred lip tightening into a painful line.
“Because if you leave me, Elena,” Matteo whispered, his voice cracking with a raw, terrifying truth, “I want you to know it was because you chose to go—not because you were afraid of me.”
