Chapter 4 - THE ST. JUDE MEDAL
The heavy oak doors of the study clicked shut behind Tony. The subtle metallic sound of the lock engaging echoed like a gunshot.
Gabriel didn’t raise his hands. He shifted his weight, subtly positioning his body between the barrel of Tony’s gun and me. His gray eyes were terrifyingly calm, tracking every micro-movement Tony made.
"Tony," Gabriel said, his voice smooth and flat. "You pull that trigger, you won't make it to the front gates. The estate is locked down."
"The men at the gates work for me now, Gabe," Tony sneered, taking a step further into the room. "Twelve years I’ve played the loyal soldier. Twelve years I watched your father run to Sicily to hide from his mistakes, while I cleaned up his messes in New York."
My brain was struggling to process the nightmare unfolding in front of me. I looked at Tony, a man who had joked with me at the restaurant just two days ago.
"You..." I whispered, the words tearing at my throat. "You said you did something to my brother."
Tony shifted his cold eyes to me. "Leo, right? The deaf kid who couldn't hear a car engine revving behind him in a dark alley."
A physical wave of nausea hit me so hard I stumbled.
Two years ago. The police told me it was a drunk driver. They said Leo had been crossing the street late at night, that he couldn't hear the screech of the tires. The driver had fled the scene, leaving my twenty-four-year-old brother broken on the asphalt.
"Why?" I screamed, lunging forward.
Gabriel grabbed my waist, pulling me hard against his side, restraining me before I could impale myself on Tony’s bullet. "Hold still, Chloe," he murmured fiercely into my hair.
"Why your brother?" Tony laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Because twelve years ago, when I took out your mother, I missed the kids. I didn't know Maria had a daughter and a son stashed away in a neighbor's apartment. Two years ago, my guys spotted Leo wearing something that didn't belong to him. Something that proved Vincenzo’s bloodline was still breathing."
Tony reached into his suit pocket with his free hand. He pulled out a silver chain and tossed it onto Vincenzo’s desk.
It landed with a heavy, metallic clatter right next to the vintage photograph.
I stared at it.
It was a silver St. Jude medal. The edges were deeply tarnished, and the clasp was broken.
"Leo’s necklace," I choked out, tears spilling hot and fast down my cheeks. "He never took it off."
"No, Chloe," Vincenzo said, his voice trembling as he stared at the medal. He looked up at me, his scarred face twisted in absolute devastation. "It’s not just a medal. Turn it over."
With a shaking hand, I reached out and flipped the heavy silver pendant.
Engraved on the back were three letters: V.C.M.
Vincenzo Costello & Maria.
"Your mother didn't just escape Sicily with a necklace," Vincenzo whispered, tears streaming down his weathered cheeks. "She escaped with my child. You aren't just Maria’s daughter, Chloe."
He looked at Gabriel, then back at me.
"You are my daughter."
The room spun.
I wasn't just a waitress struggling to pay rent. I wasn't just the sister of a boy killed by a hit-and-run driver. I was the illegitimate daughter of one of the most powerful mafia bosses in the country.
Gabriel went completely rigid against me. The man I had served veal and wine to on Thursday nights wasn't just a customer. He was my half-brother.
"Touching family reunion," Tony mocked, raising the pistol higher, aiming it squarely at Vincenzo's chest. "The old man goes first. Then the girl. I’m taking the Costello syndicate tonight, Gabriel. You can either kneel, or you can die next to your newfound sister."
Before Tony could adjust his grip on the trigger, a blur of motion erupted from the corner of the room.
Beatrice.
The seventy-five-year-old deaf woman, who had been standing silently by the bookshelves, didn't scream. She didn't cower.
She picked up a heavy, solid-brass globe from the side table and hurled it with terrifying precision straight at Tony’s head.
The heavy brass struck Tony square in the temple.
The gun fired wildly, the suppressed shot burying itself with a thwack into the leather upholstery of Vincenzo’s chair, inches from the old man’s head.
Gabriel didn't waste a millisecond.
He launched himself across the room. He slammed into Tony like a freight train, driving the traitor backward into the mahogany doors. The gun clattered to the floor, sliding across the Persian rug toward me.
"Get the gun, Chloe!" Gabriel roared, pinning Tony by the throat against the wood, driving a brutal knee into his ribs.
I dove for the weapon. My fingers wrapped around the cold, textured grip. It was heavier than I expected. I scrambled to my feet, my hands shaking so violently the barrel rattled, but I pointed it directly at Tony's chest.
Tony groaned, spitting blood onto the floor as Gabriel hauled him up by his collar, pressing a forearm against his windpipe.
"You think you won?" Tony wheezed, glaring at Gabriel with bloodshot eyes. "My men are outside. They’ll breach that door in two minutes."
Gabriel didn't blink. He reached into his suit pocket, pulled out his phone, and pressed a single button.
"Marcus," Gabriel said into the speaker, his eyes never leaving Tony's face. "Tony just made a play. Clear the grounds. No survivors."
A deep, static-laced voice replied immediately. "Already done, boss. Tony's guys didn't realize the perimeter guards were loyal to you. The trash is taken out."
Tony’s face drained of all color. The arrogant sneer vanished, replaced by the stark, terrifying realization that he had just walked into a trap.
Gabriel released Tony’s throat, letting the traitor crumple to his knees on the rug.
"You killed her brother," Gabriel said, his voice dropping to a whisper that chilled me to the bone. "You murdered an innocent deaf boy because you were afraid of a necklace."
Gabriel turned to me. He looked at the gun in my trembling hands.
"Give me the gun, Chloe," Gabriel said gently.
I looked at Tony. The man who had taken Leo away from me. The man who had forced me to spend two years talking to a gravestone because he was afraid of an old man's secret.
My finger tightened on the trigger.
"He killed Leo," I sobbed, the gun shaking. "He left him on the street like garbage."
"I know," Gabriel said, stepping slowly toward me, keeping his hands open and visible. "But you are not a killer, Chloe. You are a good person. You corrected me in a restaurant because you cared about an old woman's feelings. Do not let this piece of filth turn you into what we are."
I looked past Gabriel. I looked at Beatrice.
She was standing by the desk, her hands raised, tears streaming down her elegant face.
Give him the gun, sweet girl. Let the monsters fight the monsters.
I let out a broken, agonizing sob.
I lowered the weapon and handed it to Gabriel.
Gabriel didn't hesitate. He took the gun, turned smoothly, and struck Tony across the jaw with the heavy steel grip, knocking the traitor unconscious instantly.
The immediate threat was over. But as Vincenzo pushed himself up from his chair, clutching the St. Jude medal in his scarred hand, he looked at Beatrice.
And my new reality suddenly hit a terrifying wall.
"Beatrice," Vincenzo whispered, guilt ravaging his face. "I am so sorry. I hid her from you. I hid the child from you."
Beatrice didn't look angry. She didn't look betrayed.
May you like
She looked at her husband of forty years, raised her hands, and signed a truth that made Gabriel drop the gun entirely.
I know, Vincenzo. I always knew. Who do you think paid the hospital bills when Maria was dying?
