Chapter 4 - THE ORPHAN’S WARNING
“Mom, take Leo upstairs to the attic,” I whispered frantically, shoving the ledgers and the life insurance policy into Leo’s little Spiderman backpack.
“I’m not leaving you down here with him,” Mom said, her grip tightening on the boy’s hand.
“You have to. If Marco finds the boy, he’ll use him against us.” I zipped up the backpack and strapped it onto Leo’s small shoulders. “Keep this safe for me, okay, buddy?”
Leo gave a brave, jerky nod. Mom grabbed his hand and rushed toward the back stairs just as the front door violently splintered inward.
The heavy oak frame cracked, and Uncle Marco stepped over the threshold, shaking the rain from his expensive wool coat. Three massive thugs filed in behind him, blocking the exit.
I stood in the center of the parlor, my hands trembling behind my back.
“Uncle Marco,” I said, forcing my voice to stay level. “What are you doing here?”
Marco smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The jagged scar on his neck stretched taut. “Vanessa called me. She said a disgruntled maid and her mother had broken into estate property. I came to secure the premises.”
“You came for the box,” I said.
His smile vanished. “You’re a smart girl, Clara. Too smart for a maid. Where is it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Marco nodded to his men. “Tear the place apart.”
They swept through the house like a hurricane. I heard glass shattering in the kitchen, bookshelves being tipped over in the study, and the brutal sound of drywall being smashed.
I prayed Mom and Leo were completely silent in the attic.
Marco slowly paced around me, his leather shoes crunching on broken glass. “My nephew is a fool,” he said smoothly. “Luca thinks he’s modernizing the family by going legitimate. Shipping, real estate, charities.” Marco spat the last word like poison. “He forgot what built this family. Blood and fear. Vanessa understands that. Her father understands that.”
“So you’re working with her,” I said, piecing it together. “You’re helping her bankrupt your own nephew, and in return, her father helps you take over the family.”
“Business is business, Clara.”
One of the thugs emerged from the study, holding the heavy, fireproof lockbox.
My stomach dropped. I’d left the box on the desk.
Marco’s eyes lit up with greedy triumph. He took the box, set it on the coffee table, and popped the latches.
He opened the lid.
It was completely empty, except for a single piece of paper I had hastily tossed inside.
Marco picked up the paper. It was a crayon drawing of a house with a smiley face—one of Leo’s pictures.
Marco’s face contorted with rage. He crumpled the drawing and hurled the heavy metal box across the room. It smashed into a vintage mirror, raining glass down on the hardwood floor.
He lunged forward, his hand wrapping around my throat, slamming me back against the wall.
“Where are the ledgers?!” he roared, his spit hitting my face.
I clawed at his wrist, struggling to breathe. “I… I burned them.”
“Liar!”
“Let her go!”
The sharp voice rang out from the top of the staircase.
Marco turned his head. My mother was standing on the landing, her hands gripping the wooden banister. She had come back down.
“Mom, no!” I choked out.
Marco dropped me. I collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. He slowly walked toward the stairs, looking up at my seventy-four-year-old mother.
“Ah, Mrs. Bennett,” Marco sneered. “The saint of Oak Street. Tell your daughter to give me the documents, or I’ll snap her neck in front of you.”
Mom stood tall, her spine straight despite her arthritis. “The documents are gone, Marco. Luca’s driver took them ten minutes before you arrived. They’re already on their way to Luca.”
Marco froze. For the first time, a flicker of genuine panic crossed his eyes.
If Luca saw those wire transfers, Marco was a dead man.
“You’re bluffing,” Marco said, though his voice had lost its confident edge.
“Am I?” Mom challenged calmly. “Luca knows you’re here. Why do you think he sent Paul to pick us up in the rain? He’s waiting for you at the estate right now.”
Marco looked at his watch, cursing violently in Italian. He turned to his men. “Leave them. We need to get back to the estate and handle Luca tonight. If he sees those ledgers, we lose everything.”
He stormed out the front door, his thugs rushing out behind him. The SUV tires squealed as they peeled away into the stormy night.
I stayed on the floor, catching my breath as Mom hurried down the stairs to help me up.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her hands shaking as she touched my bruised neck.
“I’m fine,” I gasped. “Mom, that was a brilliant lie. But when he figures out Luca doesn't have the papers—”
“It wasn't a lie to save you,” a small voice said.
We turned. Leo was standing at the top of the stairs.
He unzipped his Spiderman backpack and pulled out an old, faded Polaroid photograph. He walked down the steps and handed it to me.
“I found this at the bottom of the ticking box yesterday,” Leo said quietly. “Before I put my drawing in.”
I took the photograph. My blood ran cold.
It was a picture taken at least ten years ago. It showed Vanessa, much younger, standing in a dim restaurant. Standing next to her was Marco. And sitting at the table with them was a man I recognized from the evening news—Don Bellini, Vanessa’s father, the head of the rival cartel.
But it was the date stamped in the corner of the photo that made my heart stop.
October 14th.
The exact day Luca’s father had been assassinated.
Marco and Vanessa hadn't just plotted to steal the family’s money. They had conspired to murder the former boss.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Paul’s number. It went straight to voicemail. I dialed Luca’s private, encrypted cell.
It rang three times before someone picked up.
“Luca, you need to get out of the house,” I said breathlessly. “Marco is coming, and he—”
“He’s already here, Clara.”
The voice on the other end wasn't Luca.
It was Vanessa.
May you like
She laughed softly, the sound sending ice through my veins. “Luca is in his study, pouring us a nightcap. He’s completely unavailable. And you, my dear, are running out of time.”
The line went dead.
