Chapter 3 - The Boy in the Tailor Shop
The beam of Luca’s flashlight shook for the first time, sweeping rapidly toward the corner of the room where the child’s voice had originated.
Standing in the shadows, half-hidden behind a rack of rotting suits, was a man. He was tall, gaunt, and his hair was entirely silver, but his posture was as rigid as forged steel. In his hands, leveled directly at Luca’s chest, was a weathered twelve-gauge shotgun.
And clutching the man's pant leg was the little boy from the locket. Leo.
"Drop the gun, Luca," the older man commanded. His voice was gravelly, ruined by age and smoke, but it carried an undeniable weight.
Luca didn't lower his weapon, but he didn't fire. He stared at the man’s face, illuminated in the harsh beam of the flashlight.
"Elias," Luca whispered, the name tearing from his throat like a physical wound. "It’s really you. Eleven years. You let us bury an empty casket. You let my father drink himself into an early grave thinking he had lost his best friend and his oldest son on the same night."
Elias Thorne’s jaw tightened. He didn't flinch.
"I let your father believe a lie because the truth would have gotten this boy killed," Elias rasped. He nudged the little boy slightly behind his leg, shielding him from our view. "Put the gun on the floor, Luca. You bring strangers into my sanctuary, you don't get to dictate the terms."
Luca glanced at me, his eyes dark with conflict. He slowly bent his knees and placed his handgun on the dusty floorboards, kicking it away.
Elias lowered the shotgun, though his finger remained securely on the trigger guard. He stepped fully into the light. The left side of his face was heavily scarred, the skin pulled tight and pink from the catastrophic burns he had suffered eleven years ago.
"Who is she?" Elias demanded, pointing the barrel toward me.
"Her name is Hannah," Luca said, his voice steadying. "She’s a civilian. She’s my housekeeper. She got caught in the crossfire tonight trying to protect the pocket watch you sent."
Elias’s eyes narrowed. "I didn't send you a pocket watch, Luca. Your father gave me that watch twenty years ago. I kept it hidden. It was stolen from this shop three days ago."
The revelation hit the room like a physical blow.
"Stolen?" Luca repeated, his brow furrowing. "Vanessa’s photographer brought it into my house tonight."
"Your fiancée isn't looking for me to preserve your family's peace," Elias said bitterly, leaning the shotgun against the desk. "She’s looking for me because she knows what I have. And she knows who I’m protecting."
Elias reached down and gently lifted the little boy into his arms. Leo looked terrified, burying his face in his grandfather's neck.
"Look at him, Luca," Elias commanded softly.
Luca stepped forward, his eyes shining with unshed tears. He stared at the boy. The resemblance was undeniable. The dark, curling hair. The sharp jawline. The striking green eyes that were a mirror image of Luca’s deceased older brother, Matteo.
"Matteo’s wife was pregnant when the car bomb went off," Luca whispered, reaching a trembling hand out before pulling it back, afraid to frighten the child. "The police told us there were no survivors."
"The police were on Carlo Bellini’s payroll," Elias spat, the venom in his voice absolute. "It was Carlo who planted that bomb, Luca. Your soon-to-be father-in-law. He wanted to wipe out the Moretti bloodline to take control of the ports. I pulled Matteo from the wreckage. He was dying. But his wife... she survived just long enough in my arms to give birth to Leo weeks later in a basement clinic."
I stood by the doorway, my heart hammering against my ribs. I was witnessing the unearthing of a mafia war that had defined the Chicago underworld for a decade.
"Why didn't you come to us?" Luca demanded, the anger finally breaking through his grief. "My father had an army! We could have protected you!"
"Your father’s inner circle was rotten!" Elias yelled back. "Carlo Bellini had eyes inside your house. If I had brought a newborn heir back to the Moretti estate, Carlo would have smothered him in his crib. I had to disappear. I had to make Carlo believe the bloodline ended with you, so he would bide his time."
Elias walked over to a heavy iron floor safe hidden beneath the floorboards. He spun the dial rapidly, yanked it open, and pulled out a stack of leather-bound ledgers. He threw them onto the desk.
"The Bellini family financial records," Elias said. "I’ve spent eleven years tracking every bribe, every hit, every illegal shipment Carlo ever made. I was waiting until you were fully in charge, Luca. Waiting until you were strong enough to wipe them out. But then... you got engaged to his daughter."
Luca stared at the ledgers. The color drained from his face.
"Vanessa," Luca whispered. "She knew."
"Of course she knew," Elias scoffed. "She’s a Bellini. She didn't want to marry you out of love. She was marrying you to merge the families, and once the papers were signed, you would have met the same fate as your brother. But she found out a few weeks ago that a rumor was circulating on the streets. A rumor that Elias Thorne was seen buying children's shoes in the West Loop."
I looked at the little boy. Leo was shivering, staring at me with wide, fearful eyes.
I didn't think about the danger. I didn't think about the mafia bosses in the room. I just saw a cold, terrified seven-year-old.
I stepped forward slowly, pulling a small, wrapped bundle from my apron pocket. It was a leftover lemon cookie from the prep kitchen I had saved for my train ride home.
"Hi, Leo," I said softly, crouching down to his eye level.
Elias tensed, but Luca put a hand out, silently telling the old man to let it happen.
Leo looked at the cookie, then at me.
"You smell like the bakery down the street," Leo whispered, his voice incredibly small.
I smiled gently. "I work in a very big kitchen. I bake all the time. My name is Hannah."
Leo slowly reached out and took the cookie. He took a small bite, and some of the tension finally left his little shoulders. He looked up at Luca.
"Are you my Uncle Luca?" Leo asked.
Luca fell to his knees, completely ignoring the dust ruining his tailored suit. He looked at the boy, his entire world reshaping in real-time.
"Yes," Luca choked out, tears finally spilling over his dark lashes. "I'm your uncle. And I am never going to let anyone hurt you."
Suddenly, a blinding white light swept across the front windows of the tailor shop, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.
Tires screeched on the wet pavement outside.
Elias instantly grabbed the shotgun. Luca snatched his handgun from the floor, spinning toward the windows.
"They tracked you!" Elias hissed, racking the slide of the shotgun.
"Nobody knew we were coming here," Luca growled, moving to the edge of the window frame and peering out into the alley.
Three black SUVs had completely blocked the street. The doors opened, and a dozen men stepped out into the freezing rain. They were dressed in tactical gear, carrying silenced submachine guns.
But it was the man leading them that made the blood freeze in my veins.
He wasn't a Bellini enforcer. He was wearing the tailored suit of the Moretti inner circle.
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It was Daniel. Luca’s head of security.
And he was raising his weapon directly toward the front door.
