Chapter 2 - The Woman Twenty Minutes Away

Dante did not wait for the orchestra to stop.

He walked across the ballroom.

Straight toward Robert Blake.

Guests moved aside without being asked.

Marina followed.

So did Frank.

I stayed near Dante.

The blue blanket was folded under his arm.

Robert Blake looked at it once.

Then at Frank.

His face hardened.

“You were told never to come back here.”

Frank answered quietly.

“I was told many things.”

Dante stopped in front of Robert.

“Is Grace Blake alive?”

Robert looked at his daughter.

Marina’s eyes filled with tears.

“Dad.”

Robert ignored her.

He looked at Dante.

“This is not the place.”

Dante laughed once.

There was no humor in it.

“You had thirty-one years to choose a place.”

The ballroom became silent.

Robert lowered his voice.

“Your father agreed.”

Dante’s jaw tightened.

“To what?”

“To raising you as a Moretti.”

“That is not what I asked.”

Robert looked at the blanket.

Dante stepped closer.

“Did you tell Grace I was dead?”

Robert did not answer.

Dante’s voice dropped.

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

Marina covered her mouth.

Dante nodded slowly.

Like he had expected the answer.

But not the pain.

“Why?”

Robert looked around at the guests.

“The Blake family was under investigation then.”

Frank shook his head.

“That came later.”

Robert glared at him.

Frank continued.

“Grace wanted to testify about her father.”

Dante looked at Robert.

“Testify about what?”

Robert’s face changed.

Only slightly.

But I saw it.

Fear.

Frank saw it too.

“Thomas Blake used the family shipping company to move weapons for men your father worked with.”

Marina whispered:

“My grandfather?”

Frank nodded.

“He was preparing to blame Antonio Moretti if federal agents found the records.”

Dante stared.

“My father knew?”

“Eventually.”

“And Grace?”

“She found the books first.”

Robert interrupted.

“She found numbers she did not understand.”

Frank turned toward him.

“She understood enough to run.”

Dante looked at Robert again.

“And she was pregnant with me.”

“Yes.”

Robert’s voice was thin now.

Dante unfolded Grace’s letter.

He read the address.

Then looked toward the entrance.

Marina stepped in front of him.

“Dante.”

He stopped.

She was crying.

“I know you hate me right now.”

“I don’t know what I feel.”

“I can take you to her.”

Dante stared.

“You know where she is?”

Marina shook her head.

“No. But I know that address.”

Frank looked at her.

Marina wiped her face.

“It is not a house.”

“What is it?”

“A church-run shelter.”

Dante looked down at the card.

Saint Catherine House.

Milwaukee Road.

Frank whispered:

“That used to belong to the convent.”

Marina nodded.

“My father donated money there for years.”

Dante’s head turned slowly toward Robert.

Robert said nothing.

Dante understood.

“So you knew where she was.”

Robert looked tired.

“I knew where she had been.”

“Yesterday?”

“No.”

“Last month?”

“No.”

“Then why did she choose a place funded by you?”

Robert’s silence answered first.

Marina looked at her father.

“What did you do?”

Robert finally spoke.

“I paid for her care.”

Dante stared at him.

“For how long?”

“Since she returned to the city.”

“When?”

“Three years ago.”

The words seemed to freeze the room.

Dante looked at Frank.

Frank looked stunned.

“You told me you lost contact.”

“I did.”

Robert raised his voice.

“She contacted me directly.”

Dante folded Grace’s letter very carefully.

“You knew my mother was twenty minutes from me for three years.”

Robert looked at him.

“Yes.”

“And you said nothing.”

“She did not want to see you.”

Dante stopped breathing.

Marina whispered:

“That is not what the letter says.”

Robert’s face tightened.

Dante raised the envelope.

“She says she believed I was dead until two weeks ago.”

Robert looked at the floor.

Frank cursed under his breath.

Dante’s voice became almost calm.

“What did you tell her for the last three years?”

Robert did not answer.

Dante moved closer.

“What did you tell her?”

Robert finally looked up.

“That you had become dangerous.”

The ballroom changed.

Not loudly.

But everyone heard it.

Marina whispered:

“Dad.”

Robert continued.

“I told her Antonio’s world had consumed you.”

Dante’s face went still.

“You told my mother I became a monster.”

“I told her enough to keep her safe.”

“From me?”

“From what follows your name.”

Dante looked around the mansion.

At guards.

Politicians.

Businessmen.

Men who never arrived without checking exits.

Then he looked back at Robert.

“And yet you let your daughter marry me.”

Robert had no answer.

That was when Dante understood something else.

He looked at Marina.

“Why did he approve our engagement?”

Marina shook her head.

“I thought because the families had moved on.”

Frank’s voice came from behind us.

“No.”

Everyone turned.

The old driver removed one final paper from his bag.

A photocopy.

A contract.

Dante took it.

His eyes moved across the page.

Then stopped.

“Merger option?”

Frank nodded.

“Blake Freight and Moretti Logistics.”

Marina went pale.

Dante looked at the date.

The agreement had been drafted six months earlier.

Two weeks before their engagement became public.

He looked at Marina.

“Did you know?”

“No.”

Robert stepped forward.

“Business and family often overlap.”

Dante tore the copy in half.

Then again.

Then dropped it at Robert’s feet.

“You tried to arrange my life before I was born.”

He looked at Marina.

“And you tried again thirty-one years later.”

Marina reached for him.

Dante stepped away.

“I am going to see Grace.”

“I’m coming.”

“No.”

Her face fell.

Dante looked at Frank.

“You are.”

Frank nodded.

Then Dante looked at me.

“Julia.”

“Yes?”

“You found the blanket.”

“I picked it up.”

“You refused to send him away.”

I did not know what to say.

Dante handed me the card.

“Come with us.”

Marina stared at him.

“Why her?”

Dante looked at me.

“Because she was the only person in this room who had nothing to gain from the truth.”

Twenty-three minutes later, we stood outside Saint Catherine House.

Snow had started falling.

The building was small.

Brick.

Warm light behind the windows.

Dante stood on the sidewalk.

He did not move.

Frank whispered:

“You ready?”

“No.”

Dante looked at the blue blanket.

“Knock anyway.”

I did.

A nurse opened the door.

“Can I help you?”

Dante swallowed.

“I’m looking for Grace Blake.”

The nurse studied him.

Then the blanket.

Her expression changed.

“Wait here.”

She disappeared down the hallway.

Dante’s hands trembled.

A minute passed.

Then two.

Footsteps.

Slow.

A woman appeared at the far end of the hall.

Late fifties.

Gray mixed through dark hair.

Thin.

Her eyes found Dante.

She stopped.

The blue blanket slipped from his hand.

Grace covered her mouth.

Dante whispered:

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“Mom?”

She started crying before she reached him.