Chapter 4 - THE CHILD'S DRAWING
The alley smelled of wet cardboard and old rain. I stared at the tiny red coat on the ground, my mind struggling to process the magnitude of Marco’s words.
Two years ago, Luca’s older brother, Antonio, and his wife were killed in a horrific car accident. Their three-year-old son, Leo, was reportedly in the backseat. The police report stated the car had caught fire. There was a closed-casket funeral. Luca had mourned for months, locking himself in his study, unable to speak.
“How is he alive?” I demanded, stepping closer to Marco despite my fear. “Luca buried him.”
“Luca buried an empty box weighed down with sand,” Marco said bitterly. “Vanessa orchestrated the crash. She paid off the local precinct to falsify the report.”
“Why?” I asked, sickened.
“Because Antonio was the boss, not Luca,” Marco explained, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one, the brief flare of the lighter illuminating the deep, exhausted lines on his face. “When Antonio died, the empire went to Luca. But if Leo lived, the boy would inherit everything when he turned eighteen. Vanessa couldn’t have that. She was already sleeping with Luca behind Antonio’s back. She wanted the crown, and the boy was in the way.”
“And you helped her,” I accused, stepping back.
Marco flinched. “I was Antonio’s loyal man. I pulled the boy from the wreck before it burned. Vanessa found me at the hospital. She told me if I brought the kid back to the family, she’d have us both killed. She had the police in her pocket. She offered me money to hide him, and I took it to keep the kid breathing.”
“But now you’re blackmailing her.”
“The money wasn’t for me,” Marco spat. “It was for the kid’s medical care. He inhaled a lot of smoke in the crash. His lungs are weak. I’ve been paying an off-the-books doctor for two years. But Vanessa stopped sending the cash. She got greedy. She thought she was untouchable because the wedding was close.”
“So you threatened her. You made her pawn Isabella’s jewelry.”
“I told her if she didn’t pay for the kid’s medicine, I’d walk right into Luca’s office and drop the boy on his desk,” Marco said, dropping his cigarette and crushing it beneath his boot. “But things have changed, Claire. Vanessa didn’t just pawn the jewelry. She hired a hitman.”
My breath caught. “What?”
Marco reached into his pocket again and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to me.
I unfolded it under the flickering security light.
It was a child’s drawing. Done in messy blue crayon, it showed a stick figure of a man holding a little boy’s hand. At the top, in clumsy, oversized letters, it read: MARCO AND LEO.
But the drawing was stained with something dark and rusted. Blood.
“They raided the safehouse in Queens three hours ago,” Marco said, his voice finally breaking. “I fought them off, but I took a bullet to the shoulder. I barely got Leo out.”
“Where is he?” I asked, terror gripping my throat.
“He’s in my truck,” Marco pointed to a battered pickup parked further down the alley. “But I’m bleeding out, Claire. And Vanessa’s men are looking for me. If they find the boy, they will kill him.”
“Why are you coming to me?” I asked frantically. “Go to Luca! Tell him the truth!”
“If I walk up to the Salvatore estate, Vanessa’s guards will shoot me at the gate,” Marco said, leaning heavily against the brick wall, his face pale. “You’re the only one on the inside she hasn’t corrupted yet. You stood up for the cook tonight. You have a conscience.”
Marco stumbled, his knees buckling. I rushed forward, catching him before he hit the ground. His heavy wool coat was soaked in blood on the left side.
“Marco, you need a hospital,” I said, struggling under his weight.
“No hospitals,” he gasped. “Take the boy. Hide him. You have to get proof to Luca before the wedding tomorrow.”
Before I could answer, the roar of an engine echoed at the end of the alley. Twin headlights cut through the darkness, blinding us. A black sedan screeched to a halt, blocking the exit.
“They found me,” Marco rasped. He shoved me hard toward his truck. “Go! Take the kid and run!”
Four men in dark suits stepped out of the sedan. They didn’t shout. They didn’t hesitate. They just drew their weapons with terrifying, silent efficiency.
I didn’t think. I ran for Marco’s truck.
I ripped open the passenger door. Huddled on the floorboard, clutching a worn teddy bear, was a little boy with dark, terrified eyes. He looked exactly like Luca.
“Come here,” I whispered, grabbing him and pulling him into my arms. He was so light, so fragile.
I scrambled into the driver’s seat, locked the doors, and jammed the keys into the ignition.
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Gunshots echoed in the alley behind me. Sharp, deafening cracks that made Leo scream and bury his face in my neck.
I threw the truck into reverse, slamming my foot on the gas. The heavy metal bumper smashed into a stack of wooden pallets, clearing a path to the side street. I didn’t look back. I just drove, my hands shaking violently on the steering wheel, racing into the dark city with the true heir to the Salvatore empire crying against my chest.
