Chapter 93 Chapter 93
Damien’s POV
Marco shook his head frantically, and I saw tears of frustration streaming down his face.
“He knows something,” Lorenzo said quietly. “Something about the attack maybe.”
I studied Marco’s desperate expression and realized Lorenzo was right. Marco had information critical information but he couldn’t tell me.
And if the Morellis found out he was alive…
“They’ll try to kill him,” I said, the realization hitting me. “If they know Marco survived, they’ll come for him. They’ll finish the job before he can tell us whatever he knows.”
Lorenzo’s expression darkened. “What do you want to do?”
I looked at Marco, at this loyal man who’d given everything to protect my family, and made a decision.
“We fake his death,” I said. “Officially. I want a death certificate registered. I want a funeral planned. I want everyone including our own people to believe Marco died from his injuries.”
“Boss, Benita…” Lorenzo started.
“I know,” I said, my chest tightening at the thought of what this would do to her. “It’s cruel. But if we tell anyone he’s alive, word will get out. And the Morellis will come for him. This is the only way to keep him safe until he can communicate.”
Marco’s eyes met mine, and I saw understanding there. And agreement.
He knew this was necessary.
“Get the paperwork started,” I ordered Lorenzo. “Death certificate, funeral arrangements, everything. Make it look completely legitimate. And move Marco to an even more secure location within this facility. No one gets near him except the doctors I personally approve.”
“Yes, boss,” Lorenzo said.
I turned back to Marco. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what this is going to put Benita through. But I promise you, the moment you can communicate, we’ll fix this. We’ll bring you back from the dead and reunite you with her.”
———-
I was on my way back to the safe house the next morning, my body exhausted from the night’s interrogations but my mind already planning the next moves against the Morellis, when my phone rang.
Vincent’s name flashed on the screen.
I answered. “Vincent.”
“Boss,” Vincent’s voice came through, respectful but concerned. “I noticed you and the family have been off radar. No one’s seen you at any of the usual locations. Is everything alright?”
“I’m keeping my family safe,” I said carefully, not revealing anything specific. “We’ve moved to a secure location until the Morelli threat is neutralized.”
There was a pause on the other end. “I understand, boss. Is there anything I can do to help? Any way I can support the family during this time?”
I thought about it for a moment. There was something he could do, actually. Something important.
“Yes,” I said. “I need the video footage from the cameras in my house on the day of the shooting.”
“Boss,” Vincent said slowly, “the main security cameras were turned off during the attack. The Morellis disabled them as part of their assault. There’s no footage to retrieve.”
“I know the main system was disabled,” I said. “But there were smaller cameras hidden throughout the house. Backup surveillance that most people don’t know about. I want you to bypass the police authorities who are still crawling over my compound and get that footage. Retrieve it and keep it safe.”
“The police are still there?” Vincent asked.
“Federal investigators arrived yesterday,” I confirmed. “They’re treating it as a major crime scene. But those hidden cameras if the footage survived could tell us exactly how the Morellis coordinated the attack. Who was involved. How they moved through the house. Everything.”
“I’ll get it done, boss,” Vincent said, his voice taking on a note of determination. “I’ll bypass the authorities and retrieve the footage. You can count on me.”
“Good,” I said. “Be careful. Don’t get caught. We can’t afford any more complications right now.”
“Understood, boss. I’ll…”
The line went dead.
I pulled the phone away from my ear, frowning. Vincent had hung up abruptly, mid-sentence.
That was odd. Vincent was always professional, always made sure to properly end conversations with clear acknowledgments and goodbyes.
But maybe he was just eager to get started on the task. Ambitious to prove himself useful during this crisis.
I put the phone away and continued driving toward the safe house.
When I arrived, the property looked peaceful in the morning light. The gardens were well-maintained, the house stood solid and secure, and everything seemed calm.
But I knew that calm was deceptive.
I parked and stepped out, intending to go inside and check on everyone. But movement in the garden caught my eye.
Sophia.
She was kneeling in one of the flower beds, a watering can in her hand, carefully tending to a cluster of bright tulips.
My chest tightened. Elena’s favorite flowers. She’d planted those tulips herself years ago, had tended them with such care and love.
I walked across the lawn toward my daughter, my footsteps quiet on the grass.
Sophia didn’t notice me at first, too focused on the flowers. She was crying, silent tears streaming down her face as she gently watered each plant.
“Sophia,” I said softly.
She jumped, startled, and turned to look at me with red, swollen eyes.
“Dad,” she said, her voice breaking. “I didn’t hear you come back.”
I knelt down beside her, looking at the tulips. They were beautiful, thriving despite years of minimal care.
“Your mother loved these,” I said quietly.
“I know,” Sophia whispered, fresh tears falling. “Being here… being in this house, seeing all her things, her flowers, her rooms… it makes me miss her so badly. Like she just died yesterday.”
She set down the watering can and covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking with sobs.
“Everything here is Mom,” she continued, her voice muffled. “Every corner, every piece of furniture, every plant in this garden. She chose it all. She made this place beautiful. And now she’s gone and I’m here and it hurts so much.”
I put my arm around her, pulling her close. “I know, sweetheart. I know it hurts.”
“Why did you bring us here?” Sophia asked, looking up at me with accusation in her eyes. “Why this house? You knew how much it would hurt. You knew what it would do to me.”
“Because it’s the safest place I have,” I said honestly. “Because I need to protect you, and this is where I can do that best.”
“But it’s killing me inside,” Sophia sobbed. “Every room I walk into, I see her. I remember her. And I remember that she’s gone and never coming back.”
She buried her face in my shoulder, and I held her while she cried, feeling helpless in the face of her grief.
My daughter was breaking. Had been breaking for years, really. And I hadn’t known how to help her then, and I didn’t know how to help her now.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “For bringing you here. For everything that’s happened. For not being there when you needed me.”
Sophia didn’t respond, just clung to me and cried.