Chapter 8 - THE SILVER CANE
The air in the study turned instantly to ice. The joy and relief that had filled the room seconds ago vanished, replaced by the suffocating reality of the mafia world.
Marco Moretti. The Underboss. The man who had operated in the shadows of the family for decades, letting Luca take the spotlight and the risks, while quietly siphoning the family's wealth into his own pockets with Celia's help.
Answer One, Open Two. Celia wasn't the mastermind; she was a greedy accomplice. Marco had orchestrated the embezzlement, using Celia’s desperation for control as his cover. But if Marco was willing to kill the Head of the Family to protect his secret, how could Luca possibly survive?
"You've been stealing from the Commission, Marco," Luca said. His voice was remarkably steady, though I saw his eyes dart briefly toward the revolver resting on the desk, a few feet out of reach. "When New York finds out, they won't just kill you. They will erase your entire bloodline."
"New York won't find out," Marco replied smoothly, stepping further into the room. The two massive guards filled the doorway behind him, blocking any chance of escape. "Celia is currently being secured in the basement. She will take the fall. She’ll be found dead tomorrow—a tragic suicide out of shame after confessing to her crimes. And you, Luca... you will be the victim of a home invasion. A rival gang attempting a hit on your birthday."
Marco’s cold eyes shifted to Anna, Grace, and me. "It’s a shame there have to be so many casualties tonight. But loose ends are bad for business."
Anna pushed Grace behind her back, shielding the little girl with her own body. "Don't touch my daughter, Marco. You can have the money. Just let us go."
Marco chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. "Oh, Anna. You were always so naive. Money isn't just paper. It's power. And I can't leave power in the hands of a runaway and a bastard child."
He adjusted his grip on the silver-handled cane, his finger resting on the hidden trigger.
I was standing near the edge of Luca's massive oak desk. My heart was pounding so hard I thought my ribs would crack. I looked at the revolver sitting on the leather blotter. I was just a maid. I didn't know how to shoot a gun. I didn't know how to fight mafia enforcers.
But I knew how to serve.
And in a household like this, serving meant knowing the environment better than anyone else.
I remembered dusting Luca's desk. I remembered the heavy, brass letter opener that sat perfectly aligned next to the inkwell. It was sharp. It was heavy.
I didn't look at Marco. I didn't make a sound. I let my hand drop to the desk, my fingers wrapping silently around the cold brass hilt of the letter opener.
"You think you can run the family, Marco?" Luca asked, slowly taking a half-step to his left, drawing Marco's attention, and his aim, away from Anna and Grace. "The captains respect strength. They know you're a coward who hides behind accountants and old women."
"They will respect the man who signs their paychecks," Marco sneered.
"Hey!" I screamed.
Marco flinched, his eyes snapping toward me.
In that split second of distraction, I didn't throw the letter opener at Marco. I threw it as hard as I could directly at the heavy, stained-glass lamp sitting on the bookshelf behind him.
The brass hit the glass with a deafening CRASH.
The room plunged into semi-darkness as the bulb shattered, sending sparks flying.
Marco jumped, swinging his cane toward the noise.
Luca didn't waste a millisecond. He lunged across the desk in a terrifying blur of motion. He didn't go for Marco; he went for the silver revolver resting on the blotter.
Luca hit the floor, rolling to his feet just as Marco fired. A suppressed pfft sound pierced the air, and a bullet embedded itself into the mahogany paneling right where Luca's head had been a second before.
But Luca was already up. He raised the revolver and fired twice.
The roar of the unsuppressed .38 caliber gun was deafening in the enclosed study.
Marco gasped, dropping the silver cane. He grabbed his shoulder, staggering backward, blood rapidly blooming across his expensive wool coat.
The two guards in the doorway reached for their weapons, but Luca was faster, more brutal, and fighting for the survival of his blood. He fired twice more, hitting the doorframe inches from the guards' faces, showering them in wood splinters.
"Drop them!" Luca roared, his voice shaking the floorboards. "Drop the guns, or the next ones go through your eyes!"
The guards, seeing their Underboss bleeding on the floor and facing down the enraged Head of the Family, made the only smart choice they had left. They slowly pulled their pistols from their shoulder holsters and dropped them onto the carpet, kicking them away.
The study was filled with the smell of gunpowder and the ragged breathing of terrified people.
Anna was clutching Grace, both of them unharmed but trembling violently.
I was backed against the wall, my hands over my ears, sliding slowly to the floor.
Luca kept his gun trained on the guards as he walked over to Marco. The older man was groaning, clutching his bleeding shoulder, leaning heavily against the bookcase.
A Reversal of power. The shadow king had been dragged into the light and broken.
Luca looked down at his uncle with absolute disgust.
"You forgot the most important rule of this family, Marco," Luca said coldly. "You never come after a Moretti in their own home."
Luca didn't pull the trigger again. He didn't need to. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out his phone. He dialed a number, keeping his eyes locked on the bleeding man.
"Carlo," Luca said into the phone, speaking to his most loyal captain. "Get a cleanup crew to my study immediately. And contact the Commission in New York. Tell them I have the rat who’s been bleeding their accounts. Tell them I'm gifting Marco to them. Alive."
Marco’s face went perfectly white, the terror of what New York would do to him far outweighing the pain in his shoulder. "Luca... please. We're blood."
"No," Luca said, hanging up the phone. "We share a name. My blood is standing behind me."
Luca turned back to us. He lowered the gun, the fierce, violent mafia boss melting away as he looked at Anna, Grace, and me.
"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice softening.
Anna nodded, tears of relief falling freely. Grace peeked out from behind her mother, looking at Luca with a mixture of awe and fear.
Luca walked over to me. I was still sitting on the floor, shaking. He offered me his hand.
I took it, and he pulled me up.
"You have a very good throwing arm, Emma," Luca said, a genuine, albeit exhausted, smile touching his lips.
May you like
"I used to play softball, sir," I managed to whisper, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my throat.
The nightmare was finally over. The monsters had been dragged out from under the bed and vanquished. Now, it was time to rebuild.
