Chapter 5 - The Rosary
Sophia didn’t scream. She had learned long ago that screaming in her neighborhood only made people lock their doors tighter. Instead, she pulled her father to his feet, threw his arm over her shoulder, and half-carried him out of the apartment. They took a cab to a discreet, 24-hour clinic in Brooklyn run by an old doctor who didn't ask questions about bruises or cash payments. Once her father was sedated and resting, Sophia sat in the sterile waiting room, staring at the silver pocket watch in her hand. Enzo was the traitor. Vanessa was the mastermind. And Dante was walking blindly into a trap. At 6:00 AM, the clinic door jingled. Dante walked in. He looked immaculate in a dark charcoal suit, but his eyes were bloodshot. Enzo stood two steps behind him, perfectly stoic. Sophia stood up, her heart pounding. She looked from Dante to Enzo, nausea twisting in her stomach. “How is he?” Dante asked quietly, glancing toward the patient rooms. “He’ll live,” Sophia said, keeping her voice entirely neutral. She couldn’t expose Enzo right now. Not while the man was standing three feet away with a concealed weapon. “I told you not to come here, Sophia,” Dante said, his voice hardening. “You disobeyed a direct order. Your employment with my mother is terminated. Effective immediately.” Sophia blinked, stunned. “What?” “You are a liability,” Dante continued smoothly, not breaking eye contact. “I am marrying Vanessa in three days. I don’t need a waitress stirring up drama and endangering my mother’s peace of mind.” Enzo smirked slightly. Sophia felt a hot tear slide down her cheek. He was firing her. After everything, he was casting her aside to appease Vanessa. “Fine,” Sophia choked out. “Keep your money. Keep your miserable, dangerous life.” She pushed past him, aiming for the clinic door. As she brushed against Dante’s shoulder, he suddenly grabbed her arm. His grip was entirely too tight. “Don’t ever come near my family again,” Dante sneered. Then, he shoved his hand forcefully into her coat pocket. He let go, and Sophia stumbled out into the freezing morning air, the clinic door chiming shut behind her. She walked three blocks, her vision blurred with angry tears, before she finally stopped leaning against a brick wall to catch her breath. She plunged her cold hands into her coat pockets. Her fingers brushed against the silver pocket watch. But there was something else. Something Dante had slipped into her pocket when he grabbed her. She pulled it out. It was a worn, wooden rosary. The beads were smooth from years of prayer. Sophia recognized it instantly—it was Elena Moretti’s rosary. Wrapped tightly around the wooden cross was a small, torn piece of a deposit slip. Sophia unrolled it. In Dante’s sharp, masculine handwriting, it read: I know about Enzo. I’m being watched. Vanessa is moving Elena to a facility tomorrow. Find the black ledger hidden in my mother’s mattress. Trust no one.
