Chapter 3 - THE VAULT OF LIES
“Get out,” I said, stepping between Victoria and Elena’s bed.
Victoria feigned shock, placing a manicured hand over her chest. “Salvatore, please. We are just trying to save the child.”
Lorenzo looked completely lost, torn between the woman he had abandoned his wife for and the father who had just disinherited him. “Dad, the doctors said the baby needs better equipment—”
“You are a fool, Lorenzo,” I spat, snatching the paper from Victoria’s hand. I ripped it in half and threw it on the floor. “This isn't a medical transfer. It’s a legal surrender of Elena’s assets. If she signs this, she signs away the trust fund I just created for her.”
Lorenzo stared at the torn paper on the floor, his jaw dropping. He turned to Victoria. “Is that true? You told me it was for the incubator.”
Victoria’s mask slipped just a fraction. Her eyes hardened into dark, glittering stones. “Lorenzo, darling, you know your father is losing his mind in his old age. Let’s leave them be.”
She turned on her expensive heels and marched out of the room. Lorenzo hesitated, looking at Elena’s terrified face, before turning and chasing after Victoria like a scolded dog.
My disgust for my son was absolute.
I turned back to Elena. She pressed the tarnished silver key into my palm.
“Union Station,” she whispered, her monitors beeping faster. “Locker 402. Arthur left the ledger there seven years ago. Victoria needs it to destroy you and take over the territory. Get it before she does.”
“Rest, sweetheart,” I said, kissing her forehead. “I will handle this.”
I walked out of the hospital and found my driver, Anthony, waiting by the idling Lincoln Town Car. The snow was falling in thick, heavy sheets, burying the city in white.
“Union Station, Anthony. And hand me the piece from the glovebox.”
Anthony didn't ask questions. He handed me the cold, heavy steel of my old Smith & Wesson revolver. I hadn't carried a weapon in a decade, but tonight, I was no longer a retired widower. I was Salvatore Moretti.
We arrived at Union Station at 3:45 a.m. The grand hall was eerily deserted, echoing with the sound of my cane tapping against the marble floors. We found the bank of rusted lockers near the old service tunnels.
I slid the silver key into locker 402. It turned with a heavy click.
Inside was a dust-covered leather satchel.
I opened it under the flickering fluorescent lights. Inside was a black ledger book, filled with Arthur’s neat handwriting, documenting millions of dollars Victoria had funneled to a rival cartel in New York.
But there was something else in the satchel.
A small, folded piece of blue fabric.
I pulled it out. It was a hand-knitted baby blanket. Woven into the corner were the initials: D.A.
“What is that, boss?” Anthony asked, keeping his eyes on the empty corridor.
Answer one, open two. The ledger proved Victoria’s guilt. But why was a baby blanket in a locker sealed seven years ago?
I unfolded the blanket, and a crisp, yellowed document fell to the floor. I picked it up.
It was a marriage annulment.
Dated seven years and one month ago.
Elena hadn't just been a single woman when she married Lorenzo. She had been married to a man named David Adams. And according to the medical stamp on the back of the annulment, she had been three months pregnant with his child.
My chest tightened painfully. Elena hadn't just given up her freedom. To save Lorenzo from the mob war, she was forced to erase her husband and give up her unborn child.
Suddenly, Anthony shoved me hard against the metal lockers.
Crack!
A bullet shattered the tile exactly where my head had been a second before.
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I looked down the concourse. Six men in heavy black winter coats were walking toward us, their weapons drawn with silencers attached.
Victoria hadn't gone back to her hotel. She had followed us.
