Chapter 47 - The Last Request
Matteo had one request.
He wanted to see Daniel.
Elena said no.
Immediately.
Absolutely.
Without guilt.
The prison chaplain relayed a second request.
A video message.
Again Elena refused.
Then Matteo asked for something different.
A photograph.
Nothing current enough to identify Daniel’s school or routine.
Just a picture.
Elena struggled with that one.
Dante did not pressure her.
Nicholas did.
“Send it.”
Elena looked surprised.
“Why?”
“Because I met him.”
Nicholas sat across from her in the sanctuary library.
“I spent my whole life wondering what he looked like when nobody was afraid of him.”
“And?”
“He looked small.”
Nicholas paused.
“Daniel doesn’t need that.”
“No.”
“But Matteo might.”
Elena stared at the fire.
“What picture?”
Nicholas smiled.
“The wedding.”
The photograph showed Daniel between Elena and Dante beneath the oak tree.
Laughing.
Safe.
Loved.
Elena sent a copy through the prison chaplain.
Matteo received it three days later.
The chaplain called afterward.
“He cried.”
Elena remained quiet.
“He asked me to tell you something.”
“I don’t need—”
“He said Dante looks like Daniel’s father.”
That surprised her.
The chaplain continued.
“And he said maybe that’s what Daniel deserved.”
Elena closed her eyes.
For years she had imagined Matteo suffering.
Later she imagined him apologizing.
Neither fantasy had brought peace.
Now hearing him surrender the title of father should have felt triumphant.
Instead it felt sad.
A wasted life recognizing love too late.
Matteo died the following morning.
No dramatic final speech.
No conspiracy.
No hidden fortune.
His heart simply stopped inside a prison medical room while dawn spread across the Colorado mountains.
Elena learned while pouring Daniel cereal.
She stood still holding the milk.
Dante watched her.
Daniel kept talking about a school science project.
Elena listened.
Nodded.
Smiled.
Finished breakfast.
Only after Daniel left did she go outside.
Dante followed.
She stood beneath the oak tree.
“I thought I’d feel something bigger.”
“What do you feel?”
“Sorry for him.”
Dante said nothing.
“He had everything once.”
“Not everything.”
Elena looked at him.
Dante nodded toward the house.
“Not that.”
Daniel’s laughter floated faintly from an open window.
Elena understood.
Rebecca took Matteo’s death hardest.
“He was still my son.”
Nobody tried to tell her she shouldn’t grieve.
Nicholas attended the private burial.
Elena did not.
Neither did Daniel.
Matteo’s grave contained only his name and dates.
No titles.
No claims about legacy.
Rebecca placed flowers there.
Then walked away with Nicholas beside her.
The Moretti story finally ended not with violence but silence.
Weeks later, Elena received Matteo’s final personal effects.
A watch.
Two letters.
A photograph.
The wedding photograph she had sent.
The edges were worn from being held.
On the back Matteo had written:
He looks happy. Do not let anyone teach him to confuse fear with respect.
Elena stared at the sentence.
Then placed the photograph inside a drawer.
Not destroyed.
Not displayed.
Simply put away.
May you like
The past had a place.
But it no longer deserved the center of the room.
