Chapter 13 - Unit 317
Storage Unit 317 was located beneath a train overpass in Brooklyn.
Alessandro wanted me nowhere near it.
I went anyway.
“You are injured.”
“I am also the person whose name is on the lease.”
“You have stitches.”
“You have gunshot scars.”
He looked at me.
“That is not the same.”
“It is exactly the same.”
Enzo made the mistake of laughing.
Alessandro gave him one look.
Enzo stopped.
Mostly.
We entered the facility after midnight.
No employees.
Security had already cleared the corridors.
Unit 317 opened with a code based on my birthday.
Inside were six boxes.
A sewing machine.
Two old suitcases.
And one locked wooden chest.
I touched the sewing machine.
It had sat on my grandmother’s kitchen table my entire childhood.
I thought my aunt had donated it.
I had no aunt.
Another lie.
Alessandro remained behind me.
He didn’t rush me.
That mattered.
I opened the first box.
Clothes.
The second contained photographs.
The third held newspaper clippings about the Vitale family.
Matteo’s disappearance.
Dominic Vitale’s business expansion.
Alessandro’s marriage.
Leo’s birth.
Elena’s death.
My grandmother had followed them for decades.
Then I found a photograph of myself.
Age seven.
Standing beside Sofia at a playground.
In the background, barely visible, was a young Alessandro.
My breath stopped.
“You were there.”
He took the photograph.
“I do not remember this.”
“She let me meet you.”
“Apparently.”
I opened the wooden chest with a small key taped beneath the sewing machine.
Inside was a cassette recorder.
A sealed envelope.
And a black ledger.
Enzo stared.
“Jesus.”
Alessandro touched the ledger.
“Do not.”
I surprised myself with the command.
He looked at me.
“My grandmother left this to me.”
He removed his hand.
“Then you open it.”
I did.
The first page contained names.
Judges.
Police officers.
Business owners.
Politicians.
Dates.
Payments.
Murders disguised as accidents.
The ledger was not evidence against Alessandro.
It was evidence against his father.
His uncle.
Bellandi.
Half the city.
Then a name appeared near the end.
ELENA VITALE.
Beside it was a date.
Two weeks before her death.
And one word.
CONTACTED.
Alessandro’s face emptied.
“She met Sofia.”
“Yes.”
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a note addressed to me.
Mara, if you are reading this, the lie failed.
Trust the boy who was hidden.
Do not trust the brother who remained.
I read it twice.
Then looked at Alessandro.
He had read it too.
His face went hard.
“What does that mean?”
I whispered.
“I don’t know.”
Enzo reached for his gun.
A metallic click sounded behind us.
The storage unit door slammed shut.
Lights went out.
Then a voice came from the darkness.
May you like
“You were always too curious, Mara.”
David.
