Chapter 4 - THE VAULT IN THE WALL
The snake tattoo seemed to writhe in the dim light of the chandelier.
Nora looked from the ink on Matteo’s hand to his face, her expression remarkably calm for a child who had just witnessed a violent confrontation.
“Are you the snake man?” she asked softly.
Matteo dropped to one knee, ignoring the expensive fabric of his trousers. He looked at my daughter with a tenderness that completely contradicted the ruthless man he had been five minutes ago.
“Yes, piccola,” Matteo said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m the snake man. I’m your Uncle Matteo.”
He gently took the black ticket from her small fingers. He turned it over in his hand, studying the gold embossed numbers. As he read them, the softness in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sharp, calculating glint.
“Rose,” Matteo said, standing up. “When Leo died, did the police give you his personal effects? His wallet? His keys?”
“Yes,” I answered, my mind struggling to keep up with the rapid shift in reality. “But there wasn’t much. Just his wedding ring and a few dollars.”
“No locker keys? No safe deposit box documents?”
“No. Just a metal lockbox he kept under our bed. But he lost the key to it years ago. I kept it in the apartment for sentimental value.”
Matteo’s jaw clenched. “He didn't lose the key, Rose. This ticket... it’s an access code for a private underground vault at the Central Depository. But it’s a dual-authentication vault. You need the ticket, and you need the physical object it corresponds to.”
“The lockbox,” my mother said, stepping forward. Her protective stance hadn't wavered. “That’s what Richard Ashcroft was looking for when he threw us out.”
“Exactly,” Matteo said. He looked at me, a dangerous fire igniting in his eyes. “Leo didn't just walk away from the family. He took something with him. Something valuable enough that Richard Ashcroft was willing to murder him for it, and wait four years to quietly buy the building to retrieve it.”
A cold dread pooled in my stomach. “But the building is empty now. Richard’s construction crew has had access to our apartment since Friday morning. If they found the lockbox...”
“They haven't,” a new voice interrupted.
We all turned.
Vivienne stood in the doorway. She had changed out of her red evening gown and into a sleek black trench coat. She held a leather designer handbag tightly against her side, her face pale but rigidly composed.
“Vivienne,” Matteo warned, his voice low. “I told you to leave.”
“I’m leaving,” she said, her chin raised in defiance. “But you’re wrong about my father. He didn't find the lockbox. I know, because he’s been tearing that apartment apart for three days and screaming at the foreman.”
Matteo took a step toward her. “Why are you telling us this?”
Vivienne let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “Because you humiliated me, Matteo. You threw me out like trash over a maid. But my father is a fool. He got greedy. He told me about the lockbox a week ago.”
She looked directly at me. “He said Leo hid a ledger. A physical book containing every dirty transaction, every bribed politician, and every offshore account tied to the Romano family. He was going to use it to blackmail the entire syndicate.”
The pieces fell into place with sickening clarity. Leo hadn't just left the mafia; he had taken their insurance policy. He had kept it to ensure Matteo and the others would never come after us.
But Richard found out.
“If your father hasn't found it,” Matteo said, closing the distance between him and his ex-fiancée, “then where is it?”
Vivienne smirked, a desperate, ugly expression. “I don't know. But I do know this: My father isn't working alone.”
Before Matteo could ask who her father was working with, Vivienne reached into her designer handbag.
But she didn't pull out a phone or a compact.
She pulled out a small, silver handgun.
My mother gasped, shoving Nora behind her legs. I froze, my blood turning to ice.
Matteo didn't flinch. He just stared at the weapon, his dark eyes entirely devoid of fear. “Put the gun down, Vivienne. You don't know how to use it.”
“I know how to pull a trigger,” she said, her hand shaking violently as she aimed it at Matteo’s chest. “You think you can just lock my father in a basement and cancel our wedding? He promised me half the money from the ledger, Matteo. I’m not walking away with nothing.”
“You’ll walk away with your life if you put it down,” Matteo said evenly. “If you shoot me, Luca will kill you before you reach the front gate.”
“Then I won't shoot you,” Vivienne said.
She shifted her aim.
The barrel of the gun pointed directly at me.
“She’s the only one who knows the apartment,” Vivienne sneered. “She knows every hiding spot. She’s coming with me to Alder Court right now. And if you try to stop me, Matteo, I will put a bullet in your precious brother’s widow.”
The air in the room evaporated. I felt the cold sweat on my palms.
“Vivienne, please,” I said, raising my hands slowly. “I don't know where it is. I swear to you.”
“You’ll figure it out,” she snapped. “Move!”
Nora let out a terrified whimper. The sound seemed to snap something inside Matteo.
“Let her go, Vivienne,” Matteo commanded, taking a slow step to his left, deliberately placing himself between the gun and my daughter. “Take me. I know Leo’s habits. I know how he thought.”
Vivienne laughed, a jagged, hysterical sound. “You think I’m stupid? You’d kill me the second we got in the car.”
She took a step closer to me, waving the gun. “Walk, Rose. Now.”
I looked at my mother. Her eyes were wide with terror, holding Nora tightly. I couldn't risk a stray bullet hitting them.
“Okay,” I said softly. “I’ll go. Just don't hurt my family.”
I started walking slowly toward the door. As I passed Matteo, our eyes met for a fraction of a second. In that brief glance, I didn't see the cold mafia boss. I saw a man making a silent, deadly promise.
Vivienne grabbed my arm roughly, pressing the cold barrel of the gun against my ribs.
“Let’s go,” she hissed.
But as she dragged me into the hallway, Nora suddenly broke free from my mother’s grasp. She ran forward, crying, holding out a crumpled piece of paper she had pulled from her backpack.
“Mommy, wait!” Nora cried. “Take Daddy’s map!”
Vivienne paused, glancing down at the paper.
It was a child’s drawing. Crayon on construction paper. A drawing Leo had made for Nora years ago, showing our apartment.
But as I looked at it, my heart stopped.
May you like
Behind the drawing of the green front door, Leo had drawn a small, red X. And beneath it, in his neat, mechanic’s handwriting, were three words.
Behind the loose brick.
