Chapter 9 - The Confession at DawnBack at the penthouse, dawn was just beginning to paint the Austin skyline in shades of bruised purple and gold.
I quietly unlocked the penthouse door, expecting everyone to be asleep. Instead, the kitchen light was on.
I walked down the marble hallway and found Leo sitting at the kitchen island, wrapped in a heavy fleece blanket. He was sipping a cup of warm chamomile tea, his cast resting on a spare chair. Standing beside him, nervously clutching a dish towel, was Mrs. Gable, the elderly housekeeper I had hired to keep an eye on them during the day.
“Uncle Thomas?” Leo asked, his voice small in the quiet morning air.
I stopped, suddenly acutely aware of the faint smell of gunpowder lingering on the shoulders of my suit jacket. I quickly shrugged it off and tossed it over the back of the couch.
“Hey, buddy,” I said, forcing a calm smile as I walked over to the island. “What are you doing up so early? It’s barely 5:00 AM.”
“I had a bad dream,” Leo whispered, looking down at his teacup. “In the dream... we were back in the basement. And the door wouldn't open. And you weren't there.”
My chest tightened. I pulled out the stool next to him, sat down, and gently pulled him into a side hug, careful not to bump his cast.
“I’m right here, Leo,” I said softly. “You’re never going back down there. Do you hear me? Never.”
“Why did she do it, Uncle Thomas?” Leo asked, his voice cracking slightly, the heavy burden of a six-year-old carrying questions no child should ever have to ask. “Did we do something bad? Did we make Daddy go away?”
That broke something inside me. The cold, calculated mob boss melted away instantly, leaving only an older brother who had failed to protect his own family.
“Listen to me very carefully, Leo,” I said, turning his face so he had to look me in the eye. “Your father loved you more than anything in this world. And you didn't do anything wrong. Rebecca wasn't mad at you. She was a broken, wicked person who didn't know how to love anyone—not even herself.”
Leo sniffled, wiping a stray tear from his cheek with the back of his small hand. “Are the bad people gone forever?”
“The bad people are dealing with me now,” I promised, my voice steady and unyielding. “And I don't lose, Leo. I never lose.”
He stared at me for a long moment, searching my face for any sign of doubt. Finding none, a tiny, fragile sense of relief settled over his features. He leaned his head against my shoulder, letting out a long sigh.
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“Can we make pancakes today?” he whispered.
I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped my lips. “Pancakes with as many chocolate chips as you want. It’s a deal.”
