Chapter 4 - THE BLUE DOOR
The night air was freezing as the black SUV sped through the empty streets of Chicago.
I sat in the backseat next to Teresa Caruso. The elderly woman held my hand tightly, her small fingers feeling as fragile as dry twigs.
Luca sat in the passenger seat, his phone pressed to his ear, his voice a low, urgent rumble as he gave orders to his security team.
“Block the alleyways,” Luca commanded. “If Vanessa’s car is anywhere near Little Italy, I want it boxed in. Do not let her inside that building.”
He hung up the phone and looked back at us.
“Are you okay, Teresa?” he asked gently.
“I am just an old cook, Luca,” Teresa whispered, staring out the window at the passing streetlights. “I don’t understand any of this. Why would Antonio hide money in my restaurant?”
“Because he trusted your husband more than anyone else in the world,” Luca said.
We pulled onto Taylor Street.
The heart of Little Italy was usually quiet at this hour, but as our SUV rounded the corner, I saw something that made my blood run cold.
Caruso’s restaurant sat at the end of the block, a narrow brick building with faded green awnings.
But the front door was wide open.
And a black town car was parked illegally on the sidewalk right in front of it.
“She’s already here,” Luca said, his eyes darkening.
He threw the SUV door open before the driver even fully stopped.
“Emma, stay here with Teresa,” Luca ordered. “Lock the doors.”
He didn’t wait for my answer. He sprinted toward the restaurant, disappearing into the dark doorway.
I watched him go, my heart hammering in my chest.
Teresa squeezed my hand.
“She’s going to destroy my kitchen,” Teresa whispered, tears spilling over her wrinkled cheeks. “My husband built that oven with his own hands.”
I looked at the old woman. I thought about my own father, sitting in a wheelchair in our small apartment, entirely dependent on my meager paycheck. I thought about how quickly people with money and power could crush the things we spent our whole lives building.
I couldn’t just sit in the car.
“Lock the door behind me,” I told Teresa.
I slipped out of the SUV and ran toward the restaurant.
The inside of Caruso’s was dark, smelling faintly of garlic, old wood, and dried oregano.
I crept through the main dining room, staying low behind the heavy wooden booths.
I heard voices coming from the back office.
“Tear down the drywall!” Vanessa’s voice echoed sharply. “The confession said it was secured in the trust! It has to be in the floorboards or behind the brick!”
I peered around the corner of the hallway.
The back office was a mess. Files were thrown everywhere. A large, expensive-looking man in a dark suit was using a crowbar to rip the wooden baseboards away from the wall.
Vanessa stood in the center of the room, holding a flashlight.
She looked frantic. Her beautiful red dress was covered in plaster dust.
Luca stood in the doorway, blocking their exit.
“It’s over, Vanessa,” Luca said coldly.
Vanessa spun around, shining the flashlight directly into Luca’s eyes.
She didn’t look scared anymore. She looked unhinged.
“It’s not over until I get what belongs to me!” she screamed.
She gestured to the man with the crowbar.
“Get him out of my way!”
The large man stepped forward, raising the heavy iron crowbar.
Luca didn’t flinch. He easily dodged the clumsy swing, stepping inside the man’s guard. With a single, brutal punch to the stomach, Luca sent the man crashing into a metal filing cabinet. The crowbar clattered to the floor.
Vanessa screamed in frustration.
She grabbed a heavy stone paperweight from the desk and threw it wildly. It shattered the glass window of the office door.
While Luca was distracted by the breaking glass, Vanessa bolted.
She didn’t run toward the front of the restaurant.
She ran deeper into the kitchen.
I stepped out from my hiding spot.
“Mr. Moretti!” I called out.
Luca turned, surprised to see me. “Emma? I told you to stay in the car.”
“She went toward the alley exit,” I said, pointing toward the kitchen.
We ran past the massive brick pizza oven and pushed through the swinging metal doors.
The kitchen was empty.
The heavy blue metal door leading to the alley was wide open, the cold night wind howling through the gap.
Luca cursed under his breath. He ran out into the alley, looking left and right.
I followed him out.
The alley was dark and quiet. Vanessa’s black town car was gone. She had slipped away.
“She got away,” Luca muttered, running a hand through his dark hair.
I looked back at the heavy blue metal door.
It was an old, industrial door, covered in decades of chipped blue paint.
But as I looked closer, I noticed something strange.
The doorframe had a deep, vertical crack running along the hinge. And wedged inside the crack was a small piece of folded red fabric.
I walked over and pulled the fabric loose.
It wasn’t just a piece of cloth. It was a tiny, handmade silk pouch.
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered.
Luca turned around.
I held out the red silk pouch.
He walked over and took it from my hand. He untied the delicate gold string and tipped the contents into his palm.
It wasn’t a document. It wasn’t a key.
It was a heavy, tarnished silver bracelet.
Luca stared at the bracelet, completely stunned.
“This was my mother’s,” Luca said softly. “She wore it every day until she died.”
He turned the bracelet over in his hands.
There was a small engraving on the inside of the silver band.
Luca read the engraving.
His eyes widened in absolute shock.
He looked at me, then back at the bracelet.
“Emma,” Luca whispered, his voice trembling for the first time all night.
“What is it, sir?” I asked.
Luca held the bracelet out to me.
“Read the name,” he demanded.
I leaned closer, squinting in the dim alley light.
May you like
The engraving was elegant, written in looping cursive letters.
To my beloved daughter, Emma Reed.
